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Chapter 9
Claire slipped in with her practiced timid act: “There’s an urgent document from Finance that needs your signature.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened. Dead silence.
“Since when does Operations handle Finance paperwork?” I took a deliberate bite of the perfectly peeled apple.
Claire glanced at Nathan, her voice dripping vulnerability. “I’m leaving the company soon. Just helping out while 1 wrap things up.”
“Leaving?” I turned to Nathan. “Your assistant’s quitting?”
Nathan methodically wiped his hands with a Kleenex, looking almost amused. “I’m running a Fortune 500 company. You think I track every HR detail?”
Claire’s lashes fluttered, tears welling perfectly. “Mrs. Pierce, I know this isn’t appropriate, but Cooper’s father wants
us to relocate to London-”
“That’s enough.” Nathan cut her off, standing. “My wife needs rest. We’ll handle this outside.”
A minute after they left, I was out of bed.
Around the corner by the service elevator, I caught Claire’s tearful performance:
“Cooper hasn’t seen you in a month. He keeps asking why Daddy won’t come home.”
“I agreed to London. Just give him one birthday dinner. Our son’s never even gotten a hug from his father.”
“Don’t we deserve a proper goodbye? Nathan…”
She looked up at him, the picture of helpless devotion in her Ann Taylor suit.
Nathan stood there like a Brioni–clad statue.
When he returned, he was all smiles with the doctor.
“Great news, angel you’ll be home in two days. You made it.”
I nodded. “Yes. I certainly did.”
He added casually: “Oh, that paperwork from Claire needs some attention. I’ll stop by the office this afternoon. Won’t be long.”
I met his eyes. “How long?”
“Missing me already?” His practiced smile.
“Back by seven.”
Chapter 9
I closed
my eyes. “Perfect.”
At 5 PM. I signed my discharge papers.
The nurses were stunned. “Your devoted husband isn’t here?”
I smiled. “I manage just fine alone.”
At 6 PM, my Uber Black pulled up to her Greenwich community.
Same guard, same story about visiting a friend.
By 6:10, I stood at her door, my phone buzzing with Nathan’s text: “What would you like for dinner from Jean–Georges, beautiful?”
I turned off my iPhone and punched in the code.
Click.
Inside, the perfect family tableair: Cooper’s birthday cake from Magnolia, Claire playing doting mom, Nathan on his
phone.
“Birthday cake sounds perfect.”
The singing stopped.
Claire turned, horror cracking her Stepford wife mask.
Nathan froze, Hermès tie suddenly too tight.
“Are you Mommy and Daddy’s friend? Here for my party?” Cooper beamed, innocent in his Little English polo.
I smiled gently. “Yes, sweetheart. Happy birthday.”
“Thank you!”
“Mind if I talk to your daddy first?”
“Sure!”
I walked to Nathan, looking down at his perfectly coiffed head.
He sat there, Cartier watch ticking away the silence.
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