Chapter 5: The Price of a Perfect Family
Friday morning, I woke to twenty-seven missed calls.
Most were from unknown numbers.
Three were from people I hadn't spoken to since the divorce.
One was from Camille.
And the last was from Roland.
I made coffee before listening to any of them.
The first voicemail was from an old family friend.
"Eleanor, I don't know what's going on, but Roland says you're threatening to ruin the baby shower. Please don't do anything you'll regret.""
The second was from a former business associate.
"Just calling to check whether the rumors are true. Apparently, Roland is claiming part of your company.""
I deleted both.
Then I listened to Camille's.
"Eleanor, I think we need to talk. You've been making some very strange accusations, and I don't want things to become ugly. Please call me.""
I almost smiled.
She'd sent me an invitation designed to humiliate me.
Now she was worried things might become ugly.
I put the phone down.
At ten, Beatrix arrived at my house.
She carried a briefcase and two coffees.
"You're going to want to see this.""
We sat in the study.
She opened her laptop and showed me a document from the Mercer family trust.
"Roland's father established this arrangement several years ago. The beneficiary structure was designed to preserve the family's development assets.""
I studied the page.
"Where does the baby come in?""
"Roland has been trying to secure control of the trust's voting rights.""
"Why?""
"Because the trust owns a controlling interest in Mercer Development Holdings.""
I leaned forward.
"How much is that worth?""
"Approximately eighteen million dollars based on the latest valuation.""
I stared at her.
"Eighteen million?""
"Yes.""
She opened another document.
"Your former father-in-law included a provision that allows the family trustee to designate a successor beneficiary if a direct descendant is legally acknowledged.""
I frowned.
"Meaning?""
"Meaning Roland wants the child recognized as his son so he can gain control of the assets.""
"But the child isn't his.""
"Correct.""
I looked at the handwritten amendment.
"And this is why he wanted everyone to believe otherwise.""
Beatrix nodded.
"His father died believing Roland was the biological father of any child born during his second marriage. The trust documents were never updated after the divorce.""
I rubbed my forehead.
"So Roland is trying to claim my company and secure eighteen million dollars by pretending his brother's child is his.""
"That's our current understanding.""
I stared at the screen.
"Does Camille know?""
"She signed the agreement.""
I laughed without humor.
"Of course she did.""
Beatrix closed the laptop.
"There's another problem.""
I looked up.
"Tell me.""
"Alistair has agreed to cooperate, but he says Roland threatened him.""
"With what?""
"An accusation that Alistair stole confidential company information and attempted to manipulate the trust.""
I shook my head.
"Can he prove that?""
"Not without evidence. But Roland has already contacted the family trustee.""
I stood.
"Then we need to move quickly.""
Beatrix gathered her papers.
"We are.""
That afternoon, I met Alistair at a neutral office arranged by Martin.
He looked exhausted.
A faint bruise marked his cheek.
I stared at it.
"What happened?""
"Roland.""
I put down my bag.
"Did he hit you?""
Alistair shook his head.
"He shoved me into a cabinet.""
"Why?""
"Because I told him I was going to give you the documents.""
I felt my jaw tighten.
"Did you report it?""
"No.""
"Why not?""
He looked at the floor.
"Because my mother begged me not to involve the police.""
I sat opposite him.
"Your mother is still protecting Roland?""
"She's protecting the family name.""
I laughed bitterly.
"That seems to be the only thing anyone in your family knows how to protect.""
He didn't argue.
I opened my folder.
"Beatrix needs a sworn statement from you. About the affair, the pregnancy, the clinic visit, and the forged financial documents.""
"I'll sign.""
"And you need to tell the truth about when the relationship started.""
"I will.""
I watched him for a moment.
"Why did you wait so long?""
He rubbed his hands together.
"Because I loved Camille.""
I looked at him.
"Do you still?""
He was silent.
Then he said, "I loved the woman I thought she was.""
I understood that answer more than I wanted to.
He continued.
"She told me she was going to leave Roland. She said she wanted to raise our child with me.""
"And then?""
"Roland offered her the estate and the trust arrangement. She changed her mind.""
I looked at him.
"Did she ever tell Roland she was pregnant?""
"Yes.""
"When?""
"Two days before you found them together.""
I remembered that evening.
The wine.
The shoes.
The way Camille hadn't moved away from him.
Alistair looked at me.
"There's something I haven't told you.""
I waited.
"Roland didn't discover the affair by accident. Camille told him.""
I frowned.
"What?""
"She told him she was pregnant and that the baby might be mine. Roland immediately proposed that they get married.""
I stared.
"Why would he propose marriage to a woman carrying his brother's child?""
"Because he saw an opportunity.""
Alistair leaned forward.
"He wanted a child to secure the trust. He wanted to punish you for refusing to give him control of your company. And he wanted to prove to everyone that he could replace you.""
I felt the old anger rise.
But this time, it didn't consume me.
It clarified things.
"Did Camille agree immediately?""
"No.""
"Why not?""
"Because she was afraid I'd tell you everything.""
I looked at him.
"And what did Roland say?""
Alistair's face hardened.
"He told her you wouldn't believe me.""
I stared at him.
He continued.
"He said you were already emotionally unstable from the divorce. He said if I approached you, he'd make sure everyone believed I was lying to destroy his marriage.""
I sat back.
That was why Camille had written the message.
Not simply to hurt me.
She wanted to establish a story before I could tell mine.
A bitter, jealous ex-wife.
A woman who couldn't accept that her former best friend had given her husband the son she couldn't.
It was a perfect narrative.
Except for one problem.
I had the evidence.
"Alistair, do you have the original messages between you and Camille?""
He nodded.
"Most of them.""
"Where?""
"On an old phone.""
"Can Martin retrieve them?""
"Yes.""
I looked at him.
"Then do it.""
He nodded.
As I gathered my things, he spoke again.
"Eleanor?""
I turned.
"There's something else you should know about the baby shower.""
I waited.
"Roland invited the family trustee.""
I frowned.
"Why?""
"He wants to announce that he's formally accepting the child as his son.""
"Can he do that?""
"Not without the necessary legal steps.""
"But he can make a public announcement.""
Alistair nodded.
"He wants the family to witness it. Once everyone accepts the story, challenging it becomes more difficult.""
I looked at him.
"Does Camille know about the DNA report?""
"No.""
"Does Roland?""
Alistair hesitated.
Then he said, "I think he does.""
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
It was a photograph of the baby shower venue.
White flowers.
Gold balloons.
A large sign reading:
*WELCOME, LITTLE MERCER PRINCE.*
Beneath it was another message.
Saturday will be unforgettable, Eleanor. I hope you dress nicely. — Camille.
I stared at the screen.
Then a second message appeared.
This one was from Beatrix.
Emergency. The investigator has recovered the original clinic records. There's a document with your signature on it, and Roland has been using it to support his claim against your company.
I felt my stomach drop.
I opened the attachment.
It was a medical consent form.
My name appeared at the bottom.
My signature.
My date of birth.
My old address.
But I'd never seen the document before.
At the top, in bold letters, was the name of the fertility clinic we'd attended during my marriage.
I read the description.
*Consent for the use and storage of reproductive material.*
Then I saw the date.
It was dated two years before my divorce.
And beside my forged signature was a second name.
Roland Mercer.
I called Beatrix immediately.
"What is this?""
Her voice was tight.
"Eleanor, we believe Roland used your medical records to support a completely different claim.""
"What claim?""
"That you agreed to a reproductive arrangement involving his family.""
I gripped the phone.
"What arrangement?""
She took a breath.
"Your former husband is claiming that you knowingly consented to the use of a donor arrangement, and that any resulting child was intended to be raised within your marriage.""
I stared at the paper.
The implication was horrifying.
He was trying to use my own fertility treatment records to justify his claim to Camille's child.
"That's a lie.""
"I know. But we need the original clinic records to prove it.""
I looked at the date again.
Two years before my divorce.
Two years before Camille's pregnancy.
Two years before I ever knew she was sleeping with Alistair.
"Beatrix, how did he get this?""
"We're investigating.""
Then she lowered her voice.
"There's something else. The clinic has confirmed that the consent form was never processed. But someone accessed your medical file and requested a copy three weeks before the divorce.""
"Who?""
A pause.
"Camille Bennett.""
I closed my eyes.
The woman who had held my hand through every failed fertility treatment had been accessing my private medical records.
And now she was using them to help my ex-husband take my company.
I looked at the invitation on my desk.
Saturday.
The baby shower.
I picked it up.
"Beatrix?""
"Yes?""
"I'm still going.""
She sighed.
"Eleanor, I expected you to say that.""
"But I'm not going alone.""
"Who are you bringing?""
I looked at the photograph of Alistair.
Then at the DNA report.
"Someone Camille won't expect to see.""
I ended the call.
At that exact moment, my doorbell rang.
I walked downstairs and opened the door.
Roland stood on my porch.
He was wearing an expensive navy suit, holding a bouquet of white roses.
The same flowers he'd sent me every anniversary before the affair.
He smiled.
"Hello, Eleanor.""
I didn't move.
He looked past me into the house.
"Can I come in?""
"No.""
His smile disappeared.
Then he leaned closer.
"Fine. I'll make this quick.""
He placed the roses on the porch.
"You're coming to the baby shower tomorrow.""
I folded my arms.
"Is that an invitation or an order?""
His eyes hardened.
"It's a warning.""
I stared at him.
He lowered his voice.
"Whatever you think you've discovered, keep it to yourself. Camille is pregnant. My family is happy. And you're not going to destroy that because you can't accept that I moved on.""
I looked at the man who had spent six years blaming me for something he knew wasn't my fault.
Then I smiled.
"Roland, there's something you should know.""
He frowned.
"What?""
I leaned slightly closer.
"I've already seen the DNA report.""
For the first time, his face went completely pale.
And before he could answer, his phone rang.
The caller ID displayed one name.
*ALISTAIR.*
Roland looked at the screen.
May you like
Then he looked at me.
And I knew, from the expression on his face, that tomorrow's baby shower was going to be very different from the celebration Camille had planned.
