Chapter 9
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn this into a story where Vanessa was the villain and you were another one of her victims.”
Vincent went silent.
“She lied,” Claire said. “Yes. She manipulated things. Yes. She humiliated me whenever she could. She laughed at my body. She made jokes about how you preferred women who could fit into her dresses.”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
Claire saw it.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“You don’t get to become angry on my behalf now.”
The words cut cleanly.
“You were there.”
His brow furrowed.
“At the charity dinner,” Claire said. “Remember?”
He remembered.
Vanessa had joked about Claire avoiding dessert.
People had laughed.
Vincent had been speaking to an investor.
He had heard it.
He had said nothing.
“I remember.”
“You heard her.”
“Yes.”
“And what did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Claire nodded.
“Exactly.”
Emma stirred against her chest.
Claire kissed her daughter’s forehead.
“I spent years wondering why your silence hurt more than Vanessa’s words.”
Vincent could barely speak.
“Why?”
“Because I expected cruelty from her.”
Claire looked at him.
“I expected love from you.”
The room became completely still.
Vincent had faced federal investigations without blinking.
He had sat across tables from men who wanted to destroy everything he had built.
He had buried his father.
He had rebuilt businesses after betrayal.
Nothing had ever made him feel as powerless as that sentence.
Before he could answer, the door opened.
A surgeon entered.
Claire immediately sat straighter.
Vincent turned.
The surgeon removed his cap.
“Mrs. Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“The procedure is finished.”
Claire’s face went white.
“And?”
The surgeon smiled gently.
“Your son did very well.”
Claire collapsed backward against the pillow.
Rachel began crying.
Vincent lowered his head.
For several seconds, nobody said anything.
“He’s stable,” the surgeon continued. “We corrected the obstruction. We want to monitor him closely tonight, but right now I’m very encouraged.”
“When can I see him?” Claire asked.
“Soon.”
“How soon?”
The surgeon smiled.
“I was warned you were a trauma nurse.”
“Former trauma nurse.”
“Then you know I won’t give you a minute I can’t guarantee.”
Claire almost smiled.
Almost.
The surgeon left.
Rachel kissed Claire’s forehead.
“I’m going to call Mom.”
She carried Emma toward the hallway, but stopped near Vincent.
For a moment, Rachel simply looked at him.
Vincent expected anger.
Instead she said quietly, “Don’t make promises to her tonight.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“Because she’s heard enough promises.”