Chương 1
"Six hours after Genevieve Vance gave birth to her daughter, her husband walked into the hospital room with another woman wearing nothing beneath his charcoal overcoat.
For several seconds, Genevieve wondered whether the morphine had finally done what the nurses kept warning it might do.
Then Victoria Hale pulled the coat tighter across her bare chest, glanced toward the hallway, and said, “You told me she’d be asleep.”
Julian closed the door behind them.
“She can’t even get out of bed.”
The words hurt more than Genevieve expected, perhaps because they were true.
Below her waist, her body might as well have belonged to somebody else.
She could see the shape of her legs beneath the hospital blanket, but when she ordered her toes to move, nothing happened.
Hazel slept in the clear bassinet beside the bed, one tiny fist tucked against her cheek.
Genevieve kept her eyes on her daughter because looking at Julian felt impossible.
There was lipstick on his collar.
Not much.
Just a red crescent near the top button of the shirt Genevieve had bought him for their anniversary.
Victoria noticed where she was looking and smiled.
That smile ended the last argument Genevieve had been having with herself.
There would be no misunderstanding to clear up tomorrow.
No explanation involving alcohol, panic, or some catastrophic lapse of judgment.
This had history.
The door opened again before Genevieve could speak.
Eleanor Vance entered carrying a brown leather portfolio Genevieve recognized immediately.
It had belonged to Genevieve’s father.
“Where did you get that?”
Eleanor ignored the question.
She put the portfolio on the rolling meal table and pushed it over the bed.
Inside were documents marked with yellow adhesive flags.
Genevieve read the first page once, then again because the language seemed absurd.
Durable medical power of attorney.
The second document concerned voting authority at Vance Development.
The third transferred Genevieve’s interest in the Lake Geneva property to Julian.
Her mouth went dry.
“Sign them,” Eleanor said.
Genevieve looked at Julian.
He would not meet her eyes.
Instead, he adjusted the cuff of his shirt and stared at the heart monitor as if the machine had suddenly become fascinating.
“Julian.”
“Don’t make this worse.”
“I’m asking you to look at me.”
He did.
Eleven years of marriage should have made his face familiar beyond surprise, but Genevieve found herself studying him as though they had met in an elevator.
There were shadows beneath his eyes.
His hair needed cutting.
A small muscle moved near his jaw.
He looked frightened.
That frightened her more than cruelty would have.
Cruel people could be impulsive.
Frightened people made plans.
“You prepared these before I went into surgery,” she said.
Julian rubbed his thumb against the side of his wedding ring.
“We prepared for contingencies.”
Victoria gave a small laugh.
Eleanor shot her a look.
“What?”
Victoria asked.
“Nothing.”
“No, say it.”
“I just think ‘contingencies’ is generous.”
Julian’s face tightened.
“Victoria.”
She shrugged and moved toward the window.
The overcoat opened slightly around one bare thigh before she pulled it closed again.
Genevieve turned away.
There was something almost pathetic about the spectacle.
A few hours earlier, three surgeons had opened Genevieve’s abdomen because Hazel’s heart rate had collapsed during labor.
Now these people had apparently decided adultery needed theatrical staging.
“What happened to my safe?”
Genevieve asked.
That finally unsettled Eleanor.
Only for a second.
Then the older woman recovered.
“You’re exhausted.”
“My father’s portfolio was in my office safe.”
“Genevieve.”
“Who opened it?”
Julian picked up the pen from the table.
“You gave me the combination years ago.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You use Dad’s birthday for everything.”
The word Dad landed strangely.
Julian had called Richard Vance that after the wedding, first jokingly, then affectionately, then so naturally that Genevieve’s father had once answered him without noticing.
Richard had been dead four years.
Genevieve stared at the leather portfolio and remembered his habit of shoving receipts into it until the zipper barely closed.
He had hated organized paperwork.
He had also hated Julian when they first met.
Genevieve had spent two years convincing him he was wrong.
Hazel made a soft snuffling sound.
All four adults looked toward the bassinet.
For one ridiculous moment, nobody moved.
Then Genevieve reached automatically.
Her hand fell short by nearly two feet.
Julian saw it.
Something passed across his face.
He pushed the bassinet farther away.
Genevieve stopped breathing.
“Bring her back.”
“You need to stay calm.”
“Bring my daughter back.”
“She’s right there.”
“I can’t reach her.”
“I know.”
The room became very quiet.
Victoria turned from the window.
Even she looked uncomfortable now.
“Julian,” she said.
He ignored her.
Genevieve gripped the blanket until the IV catheter tugged against the back of her hand.
That small sting steadied her.
Thirty-seven minutes earlier, while Julian had been ignoring her calls, Genevieve had used the accessibility controls on her phone to contact Sarah Thorne.
Sarah had been Genevieve’s attorney for seven years and her friend for considerably less time, largely because Sarah considered friendship a poor excuse for free legal advice.
Genevieve had told her about the missing portfolio.
She had also told her that Julian had asked a nurse whether postoperative confusion could affect a patient’s legal capacity.
Sarah had gone silent for three seconds.
Then she had said, “Do exactly what I tell you.”
Genevieve’s phone now rested beneath the edge of her pillow.
The recording had been running ever since.
She did not know whether it would matter.
She did not know whether Sarah would arrive in ten minutes or an hour.
She only knew she needed Julian and Eleanor to believe she had nobody.
That part did not require acting.
Eleanor pulled the visitor chair closer.
“You’ve had a traumatic delivery.”
“Don’t.”
“You are medicated.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m confused.”
“I’m talking to you like someone who has spent the last twelve hours frightening everyone around her.”
May you like
Genevieve almost laughed.
Eleanor had always been best when she could dress contempt as concern.
