Chapter 4
I spent the next three hours wondering whether my daughter would arrive before I was ready.
The hospital monitored her heartbeat.
Every steady beat sounded like a miracle.
The doctor examined me and explained that I was experiencing contractions, but there was no evidence of active labor.
My baby's condition was reassuring.
I was relieved.
Then I started crying again.
Not because of the pain.
Because I had almost lost everything before understanding what was happening around me.
My father sat beside my hospital bed.
He had removed his jacket and loosened his tie.
I hadn't seen him look that tired since my mother's funeral.
"Dad," I whispered, "did you know?"
He shook his head.
"Not about the property transfer."
"About Adrian's family?"
He hesitated.
That told me enough.
"You suspected something."
"I knew Margaret was interested in your family's financial position."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
He looked at our joined hands.
"Because every time I questioned Adrian, you defended him."
I closed my eyes.
He was right.
When Dad invited Adrian to dinner, I accused him of interrogating my husband.
When he suggested a prenuptial agreement, I called him controlling.
When he warned me that love and trust were different things, I told him he didn't understand our relationship.
I had been so determined to prove I wasn't a spoiled heiress that I ignored every warning.
"I'm sorry."
Dad squeezed my hand.
"You don't owe me an apology for wanting to be loved."
I wiped my cheeks.
"But I should have listened."
"You should have been able to trust your husband."
His voice trembled slightly.
That hurt more than anything.
My father had spent my entire childhood making sure I never doubted I was loved.
And somehow, I had married into a family that made me question my worth every day.
Olivia arrived shortly after midnight.
She carried a folder and a small overnight bag.
"Your father asked me to bring some clothes," she said.
I looked inside.
Comfortable pajamas.
Fresh underwear.
Slippers.
And the soft blue sweater I always wore when I stayed at Dad's house.
My throat tightened.
"Thank you."
She sat near the foot of the bed.
"Serena, we need to discuss the messages."
I handed her my phone.
She photographed the screen for preservation and asked me not to delete anything.
"Have you responded?"
"No."
"Good."
She studied the picture.
"Do you recognize the room?"
"Our study."
"And the person who took it?"
"No idea."
Olivia nodded.
"I'll work with the investigators to identify the sender. Meanwhile, I want you to know something important."
I leaned forward.
"The attempted property transfer has not been completed."
Relief flooded through me.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Your father was alerted because the proposed transaction conflicted with the trust's approval requirements. We challenged the paperwork immediately."
I exhaled.
"So Margaret doesn't own my house."
"No."
Olivia paused.
"But someone went to considerable trouble to make that happen."
I looked toward Dad.
"What about the message mentioning my baby?"
Olivia's expression grew serious.
"We've discovered that a family-law attorney received an inquiry involving Adrian."
My stomach twisted.
"What inquiry?"
"Questions about whether a father could obtain temporary primary custody if his wife was considered medically or emotionally unstable after childbirth."
I felt physically sick.
"No."
"Serena—"
"No. Adrian wouldn't."
Then I remembered every time he'd called me emotional.
Every time he'd said I was overreacting.
Every time Margaret suggested pregnancy had made me irrational.
The pieces began fitting together.
"They were building a story about me."
Olivia nodded.
"Possibly. We need more evidence before drawing conclusions."
I stared at the hospital ceiling.
My own husband might have been preparing to portray me as an unfit mother.
All while kissing my stomach each night.
All while telling our unborn daughter how excited he was to meet her.
I felt something harder than anger.
Fear.
"Dad, I don't want him near me."
My father stood immediately.
"He won't come into this room without your permission."
I nodded.
A nurse entered to check my blood pressure.
When she left, my phone vibrated again.
This time, Adrian's name appeared.
I declined the call.
He called again.
And again.
Finally, a text arrived.
"Please let me explain. I love you and our baby. Mom and Bianca are making everything worse."
I showed Olivia.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Notice what he didn't say."
"What?"
"He didn't deny knowing about the paperwork."
I read the message again.
She was right.
I typed four words.
"Speak to my attorney."
Then I blocked his number.
For a while, I thought that would be the end of the night.
I was wrong.
At nearly two in the morning, Olivia received a call.
She stepped into the hallway.
When she returned, her expression had changed.
"What happened?" Dad asked.
"The police have obtained additional evidence from the hotel's security recordings."
My heartbeat accelerated.
"About the ring?"
"That, and something else."
She sat down.
"The footage shows Margaret entering the private lounge with Bianca. Bianca placed the ring in Adrian's jacket while he was distracted."
"So he didn't know?"
"That particular footage doesn't establish that he knew about the ring."
I felt a painful flicker of relief.
Then Olivia continued.
"However, his conversation with Margaret afterward is concerning."
My father leaned forward.
"What did he say?"
Olivia opened her notebook.
"He told her that once Serena signed the remaining papers, everything would be settled before the baby arrived."
I stared at her.
"What remaining papers?"
She hesitated.
"That's what we're trying to determine."
I looked down at my swollen stomach.
Somewhere beneath my hospital blanket, my daughter moved gently.
I placed my palm over her.
"I won't let them take her."
My father leaned closer.
"They won't."
Olivia's phone rang again.
She answered, listened, and slowly stood.
"Are you certain?"
Silence.
Then she said, "Send the complete file securely."
She ended the call.
I could see the shock on her face.
"Olivia?"
She looked at my father.
"Richard, the person who submitted the property documents also submitted an application for a substantial private loan."
Dad frowned.
"Against what collateral?"
Olivia looked at me.
"Serena's anticipated inheritance."
My mouth went dry.
"But I haven't inherited anything."
My father slowly rose from his chair.
"Not yet."
I stared at him.
"Dad?"
May you like
His expression was unlike anything I had ever seen.
"Serena, there is something about your mother's estate that I should have told you years ago."
