The first contained a photograph of Sienna in the hotel suite, Nathan asleep behind her.
The next message read: He chose me.
Stop calling and let him enjoy Christmas.
Another followed twelve minutes later: Stress is bad for the baby, Clare.
Try not to be dramatic.
Nathan turned away.
He had known Sienna disliked Clare.
He had enjoyed the competition because it made him feel desired.
But he had never imagined Sienna contacting his wife directly.
Or perhaps he had simply never asked what Sienna was capable of doing on his behalf.
Rebecca unlocked Clare’s tablet and opened the bank statement mentioned in the final message Clare had received that morning.
Nathan recognized the account immediately.
It belonged to Donovan Residential Holdings, the company through which he managed several family investments.
Three transfers had been made to a consulting company controlled by Sienna.
The payments totaled $180,000.
Nathan stared at the dates.
He had authorized the first transfer six months earlier after Sienna claimed she could connect him with luxury clients in California.
He had approved the second without reviewing the invoice.
The third had been initiated from his laptop during the Beverly Hills trip.
“I didn’t approve this one,” he said.
Rebecca closed the tablet.
“Clare discovered the transfers while collecting financial records for her attorney.
She did not make them, and she is not accusing you of stealing from yourself.
But the court will require a full accounting because marital assets may have been used.”
Nathan reached for his phone.
Rebecca stopped him with one sentence.
“If you warn Sienna to destroy records, that call may become evidence too.”
He lowered the phone.
For the first time in years, Nathan had no immediate move that restored his control.
Across town, Clare sat beneath a knitted blanket in the guest room of her older sister Emma’s brownstone.
Snow rested along the windowsill.
A fetal monitor rented on Dr.
Blake’s recommendation sat beside the bed.
Clare had not slept for more than an hour at a time since leaving the hospital.
Every time she closed her eyes, she heard Sienna’s message notification and felt the first violent tightening across her stomach.
Emma entered carrying tea.
“He was served,” she said.
Clare kept one hand over the curve of her belly.
“Did Rebecca say how he reacted?”
“She said he asked why no one told him you were in the hospital.”
Clare gave a tired, humorless smile.
Six calls.
Two voice messages.
One photograph sent from the emergency room by Dr.
Blake.
Nathan had ignored all of them.
Clare had spent years translating his neglect into excuses.
He was busy.
He was under pressure.
He did not express emotion well.
His father had raised him to see tenderness as weakness.
Every explanation had required Clare to disappear a little more.
The Christmas Eve message finally made disappearance impossible.
When the photograph arrived, Clare had been standing beside the tree wrapping a tiny knitted hat for the baby.
Sienna was smiling in Nathan’s hotel room with her hand resting on his bare chest.
