Chapter 4: Room 214
My daughter was born at 4:17 in the afternoon.
Seven pounds, two ounces.
A full head of dark hair.
She came into the world fast and loud, and the nurse who placed her in my arms laughed and said she had good lungs.
I named her Clara Rose Gallagher.
I lay in the hospital bed with Clara on my chest and thought about Lucas — the way he used to press his hand flat against my stomach and wait, perfectly still, for a kick.
The way he'd said, the last morning I saw him, that he was going to be embarrassingly emotional in the delivery room.
He had been so certain he would be there.
I pressed my lips to the top of Clara's head and didn't let myself fall apart.
Not yet.
Not here.
Samantha arrived at seven that evening.
She knocked softly before coming in, and she stood at the foot of the bed for a moment without saying anything.
"She looks like him," Samantha said finally.
"I know."
Samantha set her bag on the chair and pulled out a thin folder.
"I won't stay long.
But there are things you need to know tonight, before Charles has time to maneuver."
"Tell me."
"He was taken in for questioning this afternoon.
Not arrested — not yet.
But the officers recovered the folder he brought to your house.
The signature on the liquidation authorization is not yours.
Our handwriting analyst confirmed it within two hours." Samantha sat down.
"Eleanor has filed for an emergency injunction.
Nothing moves.
Not the house, not the accounts, not the shares.
Everything is locked."
"What about the company?"
"Baldwin-Gallagher Logistics." Samantha opened the folder.
"Lucas held fifty-one percent of the controlling shares.
Under the terms of his will, those shares transfer to you in trust for Clara until she turns twenty-five, with you as sole trustee.
Charles held a minority stake — eighteen percent.
He cannot act without your approval."
I looked at Clara.
Her eyes were closed, her small fist curled against my collarbone.
"He came to take all of it," I said.
"Yes."
"He knew exactly what Lucas had built."
"He'd been watching it for years.
The company has grown significantly in the last three years.
Last quarter's revenue was just over four million." Samantha paused.
"Charles stood to gain a great deal if he could establish himself as the estate administrator before anyone checked the deed or the will."
"He thought I was too grief-stricken to fight back."
Samantha didn't soften it.
"Yes.
He did."
Clara stirred against my chest.
I shifted her gently.
"What happens next?" I said.
"That depends on what he does.
If he retains a good attorney and cooperates, he may avoid criminal charges and settle for civil penalties.
If he fights it —" Samantha closed the folder.
"Eleanor will bury him."
I nodded slowly.
"And Courtney?"
"She was present during the att\*ck.
She's a witness whether she wants to be or not."
I thought about Courtney laughing on the porch.
Her hand over her mouth.
The sound of it.
"She knew," I said.
"I believe she did."
A nurse came in to check Clara's vitals.
Samantha stood, gathered her things, and squeezed my hand once before she left.
I stayed awake long after the ward went quiet.
Clara slept on my chest, breathing in that small, steady way that newborns do, as though the world is entirely manageable.
I thought about the folder Charles had dropped on my kitchen table.
The certainty in his face when he walked through my door.
He had planned this.
He had waited for the worst three weeks of my life and then walked in without knocking.
My phone lit up on the bedside table.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
May you like
*You have no idea what your husband was hiding.
Ask Samantha about the second will.*
