“Custody.”
My jaw tightened.
“She wanted to keep me away from the baby.”
“She wanted to understand her options.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“No,” I said. “I clearly don’t.”
Claire glanced at Marcus.
“He stays,” I said.
She took a breath.
“Emma was frightened that once you learned about the child, you would assume she had kept the pregnancy secret to manipulate you.”
The accuracy of that stopped me.
That was exactly what I might have assumed eight months ago.
Claire continued.
“She was also afraid you would take control of every decision. Where she lived. Which doctors she saw. How the child was raised. She believed you cared about her once, but she no longer trusted what you might do if you felt betrayed.”
“I never would have hurt her.”
“Perhaps not physically.”
The words were quiet.
They still landed.
“She tried to contact you,” Claire said. “Many times.”
“I know.”
“She came to your office.”
My eyes lifted. “No, she didn’t.”
“She said she did.”
“When?”
“About two weeks after you ended the relationship. She waited in the lobby for nearly three hours. Someone eventually told her you had instructed security never to let her upstairs.”
I turned to Marcus.
“I gave no such instruction.”
Marcus’s expression darkened. “I’ll check the building logs.”
Claire watched us both.
“Emma believed the message came from you.”
“It didn’t.”
“She had already received a letter from your attorney.”
“What letter?”
Claire reached into her canvas bag and removed a sealed plastic folder.
Inside was a photocopy of a formal document.
She slid it across the table.
The letterhead belonged to a law firm I had used for years.
The signature at the bottom appeared to be mine.
The letter instructed Emma to cease all attempts at contact. It stated that any further calls, visits, or messages would be considered harassment.
It also claimed that I denied responsibility for her pregnancy and would challenge any future attempt to establish paternity.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
“I never signed this.”
Claire said nothing.
Marcus took the page from me.
“The signature looks real,” he said.
“It isn’t.”
The room felt suddenly airless.
“Did Emma receive anything else?” I asked.
“A financial settlement agreement.”
“I never offered one.”
“She refused it.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in exchange for permanent confidentiality and a waiver promising she would never identify you as the father.”
My hand tightened around the edge of the chair.
“Do you have that document?”
“Emma kept the originals in a safe-deposit box.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire’s gaze held mine.
“She gave me the letter because she wanted someone else to have proof in case something happened to her.”
My voice dropped. “Did she think someone was trying to harm her?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“She thought someone was watching her.”
Marcus leaned forward. “Who?”
“She didn’t know. A gray sedan appeared outside her apartment several times. She received calls where no one spoke. Once, she came home and found the door unlocked.”
“Did she report it?”
“Yes. There was no sign of forced entry and nothing was missing.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.
Claire stared at me.
“Because every piece of paper Emma possessed told her you were the person she needed protection from.”
The sentence left no room for anger.
Only shame.
I looked again at the false letter.
Someone had not merely separated us.
Someone had built a wall between us, one carefully placed brick at a time.
The fabricated evidence Brooke showed me.
The blocked access to my office.
The legal threat.
The false settlement.
Emma had been trapped on one side of that wall.
I had stood on the other, believing she had chosen to leave.
“Did Emma ever say who she suspected?” Marcus asked.
Claire hesitated.
“She mentioned a woman.”
The silence between us changed.
“Brooke?” I asked.
“I don’t know the name.”
“What did Emma say?”
“That shortly before your separation, a woman contacted her and claimed you were in danger.”
My blood ran cold.
“Danger from whom?”
“Federal investigators.”
The same accusation Brooke had made against Emma.
Claire continued.
“The woman told Emma that someone close to you was providing information to the government. She asked Emma to help identify the source.”
“Did Emma agree?”
“At first.”
I stared at her.
Claire reached into the bag again and removed a small black notebook.
“She began recording conversations and dates because she didn’t know whom to trust. A week later, she realized the woman was trying to make her access your private files.”
“Emma had access,” Marcus said.
“She refused to use it. After that, the woman told her she had already gone too far to turn back.”
“Did Emma write down her name?”
“No. She called her ‘B’.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
Brooke.
It had to be.
