Chapter 2 - THE PRICE OF GRATITUDE
Three years earlier, Grant Mercer had been the man who arrived whenever the Hall family ran out of options.
Claire’s father, Paul, had died after a sudden stroke at fifty-nine, leaving behind a modest life-insurance policy, a small retirement account, and more debt than anyone had realized.
Claire’s mother, Diane, had been two mortgage payments behind on the brick ranch house in Gastonia where Claire and her younger brother Owen had grown up.
Grant stepped in.
At least that was the story Claire had been told.
He negotiated with the lender. He paid an overdue property-tax bill. He hired someone to repair the leaking roof. He even covered part of the reception when he and Claire married eleven months later.
Diane adored him for it.
“You don’t throw away a man who shows up for family,” she would say whenever Claire complained that Grant was becoming controlling.
When he questioned Claire’s clothes, Diane called him protective.
When he wanted Claire to stop traveling for interior-design projects, Diane said pregnancy would eventually make that practical anyway.
When he moved all household bills to accounts he managed, Diane said Claire had always hated bookkeeping.
And when Claire once spent two nights at her friend Lauren’s condo after Grant punched a kitchen cabinet during an argument, Diane had somehow known where she was before Claire told anyone.
Grant appeared there before breakfast.
At the time, Claire assumed her mother had guessed.
Now she was no longer sure.
Grant paced the foyer with the decoy papers in his hand.
“How long have you been planning this?”
“I made an appointment.”
“With a divorce attorney.”
“I said an appointment.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No. It’s the answer you’re getting.”
His gaze sharpened.
Claire had learned that Grant liked arguments he could convert into negotiations. He wanted figures, concessions, promises. Emotion irritated him because he couldn’t put it into a spreadsheet.
He pointed toward her stomach.
“You’re seven months pregnant.”
“I’m aware.”
“You’re going to walk out now? After everything I’ve done?”
There it was.
Everything I’ve done.
The sentence that had followed Claire through most of their marriage.
Grant had paid Diane’s tax bill.
Grant had gotten Owen an interview.
Grant had upgraded Claire’s car.
Grant had handled the insurance.
Grant had paid.
Therefore Claire owed.
“I’m going to my doctor,” she said.
“We’ll go together.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
Claire bent slowly and began putting her clothes back into the overnight bag.
Grant did not help.
He watched.
Then he said, “Did your mother put this idea in your head?”
Claire’s hand stopped on the bottle of prenatal vitamins.
It was the wrong question.
Diane had spent months urging Claire to stay.
Grant knew that.
He knew it better than anyone.
So why pretend otherwise?
Claire zipped the bag.
“My mother?”
Grant looked away too quickly.
That small movement frightened her more than the slammed door had.
Because suddenly the eighteen transfers in the real envelope were no longer just unexplained money.
May you like
They were connected to something Grant did not want Claire asking about.
And the first transfer had been made six months before their wedding.
