Chapter 4 - He Finally Learned Where Chloe Was
Grant did not come to the hospital.
He went home.
I know because our security system notified me at 3:02 a.m.
Primary residence entry: Grant Vance.
For ten minutes, nothing happened.
Then my phone started ringing again.
He called once.
Twice.
Seven times.
I ignored every call.
At 3:16, he texted:
Where are you?
At 3:18:
Where is Chloe?
That was the first time he mentioned her name.
I stared at the message.
Then I typed three words.
St. Matthew’s ICU.
The typing indicator appeared immediately.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Then my phone rang.
I answered.
For the first time in fourteen years, Grant had no words.
All I heard was breathing.
Finally:
“What?”
“Chloe is in intensive care.”
“What happened?”
“She had an anaphylactic reaction.”
Silence.
“When?”
“While you were on my yacht.”
“Evelyn—”
“Do not say my name.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You didn’t know because you weren’t there.”
He started speaking quickly.
“I told Chloe I had to step out. She was fine.”
“She nearly died.”
His breath caught.
“What?”
“The doctor said another two minutes could have changed the outcome.”
“Oh my God.”
I heard movement.
Keys.
A door.
“I’m coming.”
“You should.”
I ended the call.
Twenty-eight minutes later, Grant appeared at the entrance to the pediatric ICU.
His hair was damp from mist.
He still wore the linen shirt from Madison’s photograph.
I could smell salt air when he approached.
A nurse stopped him.
“Sir, family only.”
“I’m her father.”
The nurse looked toward me.
I nodded once.
Grant entered.
The moment he saw Chloe through the glass, his face collapsed.
Maybe another wife would have felt satisfaction.
I did not.
I felt nothing.
He walked to the bed.
“Chloe.”
He reached for her.
I moved between them.
His eyes snapped toward mine.
“Evelyn.”
“Wash your hands.”
He stared.
“What?”
“You’ve been on a boat all day. Wash your hands before you touch her.”
For once, he obeyed.
When he returned, he stood beside Chloe’s bed.
“Baby.”
His voice cracked.
“I’m here.”
I looked at him.
No.
You’re here now.
There is a difference.
Grant sat down.
“What did she eat?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Where was Rosa?”
“You gave her the afternoon off.”
His shoulders stiffened.
“I was only supposed to be gone an hour.”
“You boarded a yacht.”
“I know how that looks.”
“How it looks?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
I laughed once.
Quietly.
“Our daughter almost died, and you’re explaining how your affair wasn’t supposed to happen this way?”
“Keep your voice down.”
That sentence ended whatever patience I still had.
“You do not get to manage my volume.”
Grant looked toward Chloe.
“I made a mistake.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You forgot a dinner reservation. That’s a mistake. You left our twelve-year-old daughter alone after promising to spend the day with her, ignored eleven calls from this hospital, and sailed away with another woman.”
His face went pale.
“How do you know about Madison?”
“Her photographs were public.”
He closed his eyes.
“It isn’t what you think.”
I stared at him.
There are sentences so predictable they become insulting.
“Then what is it?”
Grant lowered his voice.
“She means nothing.”
I looked toward Chloe.
“Do you know what that makes this worse?”
He frowned.
“You abandoned your daughter for someone who means nothing.”
He had no answer.
At sunrise, Dr. Patel came in.
“We’re going to begin reducing sedation.”
Grant stood.
“When will she wake?”
“If all goes well, gradually.”
“Will she be okay?”
“We are optimistic, but we need to watch her airway and neurological response.”
Grant nodded.
Then Dr. Patel added quietly:
“She was very fortunate someone reached her when they did.”
Grant flinched.
I watched it happen.
Good.
He should.
At eight, Melissa texted me.
We found something else. Need to speak privately.
I stepped into the hallway.
“What?”
“Grant’s personal attorney contacted Daniel.”
“Why?”
“He heard cards were frozen.”
“How?”
“Grant called him.”
Of course.
“What does he want?”
“He asked whether the Vance family trust accounts had been restricted.”
I frowned.
“Grant has no access to those.”
“That’s what Daniel told him.”
Melissa paused.
“Evelyn, why would Grant think he did?”
My mind moved rapidly.
Then a memory surfaced.
Six months earlier, Grant asked me to sign updated household authorization documents.
I had refused because I was leaving for a meeting and wanted counsel to review them.
He had been annoyed.
At the time, I thought nothing of it.
“Find those documents.”
“Already did.”
“And?”
“Your signature appears on one.”
I went cold.
“I never signed them.”
“I know.”
The hallway suddenly seemed silent.
“What did the document authorize?”
Melissa answered carefully.
“Access to a family liquidity account.”
“How much?”
“Up to five million dollars.”
I turned toward the ICU window.
Grant sat beside Chloe.
Head bowed.
Playing the devastated father.
May you like
But while my daughter fought to wake up, I had just discovered that her father might have forged my signature to reach money that had never belonged to him.
And the affair was no longer the most dangerous secret in my marriage.
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