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“Why?”

“Because the father of your child just denied the significance of your relationship in writing.”

“He didn’t deny paternity.”

“He avoided it. Avoidance by a man with lawyers is rarely accidental.”

Claire looked toward the balcony. Lucien stood with his back to the room, watching the sea.

“What happens if Adrien says the baby isn’t his?”

“You can seek testing. During pregnancy, there are noninvasive options, but no one will force you into an immediate medical decision for public relations. After birth, the court can address it if necessary.”

“I don’t want my daughter born into a court order.”

“Then do not let that fear pressure you into a bad agreement now.”

Miriam slid Madeleine’s proposed document across the table.

“This is not a child-support arrangement. It is a silence agreement with a child hidden inside it.”

Claire looked at the signature line left blank beneath her name.

“Could it be enforced?”

“Parts of it could be litigated. That is not the same as enforced. The more important question is why it was prepared before the banquet.”

“Madeleine knew I was coming.”

“Perhaps. Or she expected you to become a problem eventually.”

Claire thought of the library door closing.

Miriam tapped the document. “Who drafted this?”

“The firm listed on the last page.”

“I know the firm. They do not usually produce documents overnight.”

The first fair signal had been the quality of the paper.

The second was a date in the footer.

The agreement had been created eleven days before Claire told Adrien she planned to attend the banquet.

Madeleine had not reacted to a crisis.

She had prepared for one.

The forensic examiner arrived that afternoon. Claire watched him place the black phone inside a signal-blocking pouch after documenting its condition, serial number, and battery level.

When he asked for the passcode, she hesitated.

It was her mother’s birthday.

Adrien had known that.

The examiner did not react when she gave him the numbers. Nina, standing by the kitchen counter, did. Her eyes closed briefly.

After the phone left, the apartment seemed oddly empty.

Claire wandered into the nursery she had not finished arranging. A flat-packed crib leaned against the wall. Paint samples were taped near the window: cloud, pearl, pale sand, colors named by people paid to make indecision sound elegant.

She sat on the floor because the rocking chair was covered in unopened linens.

Nina appeared in the doorway.

“Need help getting up?”

“Eventually.”

Nina sat beside her.

For a while they looked at the crib pieces.

“I bought the wrong screws,” Claire said.

“You bought a crib that requires an engineering degree.”

“The website said simple assembly.”

“The website hates pregnant women.”

Claire rested her head against the wall.

“I knew he was engaged,” she said.

Nina picked at the edge of a paint sample. “Not at first.”

“After May.”

“Yes.”

“I still saw him twice.”

“Yes.”

“I wanted him to explain it in a way that made me innocent.”

Nina considered this. “Did he?”

“He tried.”

“Was it convincing?”

“For about ten minutes.”

“That sounds like him.”

Claire laughed once, then covered her face with both hands.

“I feel stupid.”

Nina did not tell her she was not.

Instead she said, “You were stupid about him.”

Claire lowered her hands.

“But you are not a stupid person,” Nina continued. “Those are different sentences.”

Three days after the banquet, Elise requested a private meeting.

Miriam advised against it.

Lucien called it a trap.

Nina said Elise’s message contained too many semicolons to be sincere.

Claire agreed to meet her anyway.

They chose a quiet tea room in Cannes with no connection to either family. Elise arrived without her veil, diamonds, or bridal composure. Her blonde hair was pulled into the same neat low bun, but loose strands had escaped near her ears. She looked younger without the gown and older without the confidence.

Claire had imagined hating her.

In person, hatred felt too simple.

Elise sat across from her and placed her phone face down on the table.

“I didn’t know you were his daughter,” she said.

Claire stirred tea she did not intend to drink. “Would it have mattered?”

Elise flinched. “That is fair.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“No. It was.”

A server set down two small plates of almond biscuits. Neither woman touched them.

Elise folded and unfolded her napkin. “Adrien told me you were an events coordinator he had dated briefly. He said you became obsessed after he ended it.”

“And you believed him.”

“I wanted to.”

“Why?”

Elise looked toward the window. Outside, a man in a linen shirt argued with a parking meter.

“My father’s company has been negotiating with Adrien’s for eighteen months,” she said. “The engagement made the transaction easier.”

“That sounds romantic.”

“It was not presented as a transaction.”

“What was it presented as?”

“A sensible future.”

Claire said nothing.

Elise’s mouth tightened. “You think I am ridiculous.”

“I think you whispered that I was bluffing while I was standing there pregnant.”

Color rose along Elise’s throat. “I was humiliated.”

“So was I.”

“Yes.”

The acknowledgment arrived without defense. Claire had not expected it.

Elise picked up an almond biscuit, broke it in half, and left both pieces on the plate.

“He told me the child could not be his,” she said.

Claire’s hand stopped around the spoon.

“What exactly did he say?”

“That you had been seeing someone else. That the dates did not align.”

“They do.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“I found hotel records.”

Claire stared at her.

Elise spoke quickly. “Not medical records. Travel records. He told me he had not been in Nice during the week the child would have been conceived. But his expense account shows dinner here, and a driver took him to your building.”

“Why do you have his expense account?”

“My father’s company is reviewing the merger.”