Chapter 3 - SLOANE TOLD ANGELA WHAT STEVEN HAD SAID ABOUT THEIR MARRIAGE, AND STEVEN FINALLY SAW THE ULTRASOUND HE HAD ALMOST MISSED
Angela did not invite Sloane to explain.
She simply stayed silent.
Sometimes silence made people reveal more than questions did.
Sloane filled it.
“He told me you had tried once.”
“Years ago.”
“He said after the miscarriages you decided you didn’t want to keep trying.”
Angela closed her eyes.
Their second miscarriage had happened eighteen months earlier.
She had bled in an emergency room bathroom because she could not bear to do it in front of Steven.
He sat outside the door for forty minutes.
When she finally came out, he held her all night.
Three months later, she had said:
“I don’t know if I can do this again.”
Steven had kissed her forehead.
“We don’t ever have to.”
That had not meant she never wanted children.
It meant she was grieving.
Later, they talked.
Eventually she said she still wanted a child.
Steven said he did too.
Just not yet.
Always later.
Now Sloane was telling her he had used Angela’s grief as proof she never wanted motherhood.
“When did he tell you that?”
Angela asked.
“About four months ago.”
“Did you ask why he was still married?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That you were financially intertwined.”
“That he wanted separation handled privately because of the acquisition.”
“What acquisition?”
“Northshore Media.”
Angela knew the name.
Steven’s company had been negotiating for almost a year.
Nine figures.
Press-sensitive.
He had spent months using it as the answer to every question.
Why are you home late?
Northshore.
Why did you cancel Napa weekend?
Northshore.
Why did you stop coming to Rebecca’s Sunday dinners?
Northshore.
Apparently it was also why he could not tell his wife he had another woman.
Sloane continued:
“He said your marriage had become companionship.”
“No intimacy?”
“Yes.”
Angela almost laughed.
Their child had been conceived six weeks earlier.
Obviously some intimacy remained.
“Did he tell you we were sleeping together?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you he was trying to have a baby with me?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you he held me three months ago and asked whether I still wanted to be a mother?”
Sloane went quiet.
“No.”
Good.
Angela did not enjoy hurting her.
But truth had weight.
Sloane needed to feel it if she wanted to discuss the marriage.
“Why are you calling me?”
Sloane exhaled.
“Because I left Bellamy’s after you.”
“What?”
“Steven stayed outside.”
“I went to the restroom.”
“Then left through the hotel entrance.”
Angela had not known.
“He called me later.”
“He said he had to fix things with you.”
There.
Fix.
As though marriage were acquisition paperwork.
“Did he end it?”
“Yes.”
Angela felt nothing she expected.
No triumph.
No satisfaction.
Just exhaustion.
“And you’re calling because?”
“Because this morning he said you were pregnant.”
“And I realized…”
Sloane’s voice broke slightly.
“I realized there were two versions of you.”
“The one Steven described.”
“And the woman who stood at that table.”
Angela said nothing.
Sloane continued:
“You weren’t hysterical.”
“You weren’t controlling.”
“You didn’t even insult me.”
“You told me about his walnut allergy.”
Angela almost smiled.
“That was petty.”
“Maybe.”
“But not what he described.”
“What did he describe?”
Sloane hesitated.
“Angela.”
“What?”
“He said you monitored him.”
“Checked his location.”
“Demanded updates.”
“Made scenes when he traveled.”
Angela stared.
She had checked his location twice.
Once after he missed a flight and did not answer for seven hours.
Once when a snowstorm shut down O’Hare.
“Did you witness any of this?”
“No.”
“Then stop repeating it.”
“You’re right.”
Good.
“Anything else?”
Sloane swallowed.
“He said he planned to file after Northshore closed.”
“When?”
“Six weeks.”
Angela’s stomach tightened.
Six weeks.
Her pregnancy was six weeks.
Steven had been planning to leave at almost exactly the moment their child began.
“Was he going to tell me before our anniversary?”
Sloane went quiet.
“I don’t know.”
“Ask yourself why you don’t know.”
Another silence.
Then Sloane said:
“There’s something else.”
Of course.
“He offered me an apartment.”
Angela looked toward Rebecca.
“Where?”
“Gold Coast.”
“How long ago?”
“Three months.”
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“It felt…”
She stopped.
“Too real?”
“Yes.”
Interesting.
The supermodel Steven’s wife had envied through glass had also apparently been living inside a half-finished promise.
“I’m not your ally.”
Angela said.
“I know.”
“I’m not going to help you decide whether Steven loved you.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not interested in competing.”
“I’m not asking.”
“Good.”
Angela took a breath.
“If you have evidence relevant to the divorce, give it to your lawyer.”
“Not me.”
“Understood.”
“And Sloane?”
“Yes?”
“Do not call again unless it concerns something that directly affects my safety or my child.”
A pause.
“Okay.”
Angela ended the call.
Rebecca stared.
“Well?”
Angela sank into chair.
“He told her I didn’t want children.”
Rebecca closed eyes.
“Steven is lucky I’m not allowed to own weapons.”
“You own three cast-iron pans.”
“Good point.”
Angela laughed unexpectedly.
It hurt.
Still useful.
Later that afternoon, Natalie Brooks called.
“Steven’s lawyer reached out.”
“What does he want?”
“A meeting.”
“No.”
“With counsel.”
Angela paused.
“About the pregnancy?”
“Everything.”
“Do I have to?”
“No.”
“Would it help?”
“Maybe.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Angela thought.
“That I’ll see him cry and forget what he did.”
Natalie became quiet.
“That is not weakness.”
“It feels like it.”
“No.”
“Loving someone doesn’t switch off because they betray you.”
“Your job is not to stop feeling.”
“It’s to stop letting feelings make decisions alone.”
Good.
Angela agreed to one meeting.
Two days later.
Neutral law office.
No Bellamy’s.
No penthouse.
No Rebecca’s apartment.
Steven arrived first.
Dark suit.
No tie.
He stood when Angela entered.
Then froze.
Her coat was open.
There was no visible pregnancy at six weeks.
Still, his eyes moved instinctively toward her stomach.
Angela hated how much that hurt.
Natalie sat beside her.
Steven’s attorney, Marcus Feld, sat beside him.
The first five minutes were procedural.
Safety.
Communication.
Property.
Angela would remain with Rebecca temporarily.
Steven would not appear uninvited.
Medical updates through written channel.
Then Marcus asked whether Angela intended to continue pregnancy.
Steven turned sharply.
“What kind of question is that?”
Marcus stayed calm.
“A legal one.”
“She is.”
Angela answered.
Steven looked at her.
“Thank you.”
She frowned.
“For what?”
“For telling me.”
“I’m not continuing it for you.”
“I know.”
Good.
Then he said:
“Can I see the original ultrasound?”
Angela had brought the ivory box.
She did not know why.
Maybe because the night it was supposed to be opened had become unfinished business.
She placed the box on the conference table.
Steven stared.
“What is that?”
Angela untied the silver ribbon.
Opened it.
Inside:
The test.
The tiny ultrasound.
A card she had written before Bellamy’s.
She removed the card before he could read.
Too private.
Then slid the box toward him.
Steven looked down.
His entire face changed.
The businessman disappeared.
The husband.
The man Angela had imagined at dessert.
There he was.
Too late.
He touched the ultrasound with one finger.
Not lifting it.
As though afraid he had no permission.
“You had this with you?”
“At Bellamy’s.”
His eyes closed.
“Oh God.”
“I was going to put it beside dessert.”
He covered his mouth.
Angela looked away.
Steven began crying.
Not elegant tears.
His shoulders shook.
Marcus stared at papers.
Natalie watched Angela instead.
Good attorney.
Steven whispered:
“I ruined it.”
Angela’s throat tightened.
“You ruined our anniversary.”
“You ruined the marriage.”
“You did not ruin the baby.”
He looked up.
“Can I keep a copy?”
“Yes.”
She had already printed one.
She handed it across.
He took it carefully.
Then said:
“I ended things with Sloane.”
Angela felt irritation.
“Do not tell me that like it earns something.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He flinched.
“Maybe.”
“Angela, I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“I want to fix this.”
“No.”
His face changed.
“You just said—”
“I said the baby isn’t ruined.”
“Our marriage may be.”
“May?”
Angela paused.
Then corrected.
“Is.”
Steven looked as if she had struck him.
Good.
Truth can be sharp without cruelty.
He breathed.
“Can we at least wait?”
“For what?”
“Before filing.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re pregnant.”
“No.”
“I don’t want stress—”
“Do not use my pregnancy to postpone a decision you forced.”
Silence.
Then Steven said:
“I was going to leave you.”
“Yes.”
“I know how terrible that sounds.”
“It sounds accurate.”
“I thought…”
He stopped.
“What?”
“I thought the marriage was over.”
“Did you tell me?”
“No.”
“Then you did not have a dead marriage.”
“You had a marriage you stopped participating in.”
That landed.
Steven looked down.
Then:
“I loved you.”
Angela’s eyes filled.
“Past tense?”
He looked up quickly.
“No.”
“I love you.”
She swallowed.
“And Sloane?”
“I loved being with her.”
“Not answer.”
He stared.
“I don’t know.”
There.
Finally.
Unmanaged.
Angela nodded.
“Good.”
“What is good?”
“You don’t know.”
“Say that more often.”
He almost laughed through tears.
Then Natalie’s phone buzzed.
She checked screen.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
Angela asked.
Natalie looked at Steven’s attorney.
“You may want to check your email.”
Marcus did.
His face tightened.
Steven frowned.
“What happened?”
Marcus turned phone toward him.
A photograph had been published online.
Bellamy’s.
Steven and Sloane in their anniversary booth.
His hand over hers.
Timestamp:
7:52 p.m.
Eight minutes before Angela arrived.
Headline:
DANIELS CAPITAL CEO CAUGHT WITH SUPERMODEL ON FIFTH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY
Steven closed his eyes.
Angela stared at photo.
Then at him.
May you like
The private betrayal had just become public.
And Steven Daniels, who had spent his entire life controlling the room, was about to discover what happened when the story no longer belonged to him.
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