Part 3
Alexander spent the next hour staring at the photograph.
He had learned long ago that uncertainty was dangerous.
In business, uncertainty meant hidden liabilities, false projections, competitors moving silently behind closed doors.
His instinct had always been to eliminate it.
Make a call.
Hire an investigator.
Demand records.
Find the answer.
But this was not a company.
Claire was not an acquisition.
And the children were not a problem to be solved.
By noon, Alexander had made a decision that surprised even him.
He would ask.
Not investigate.
Not pressure.
Ask.
It was the first small lesson Claire had taught him without being present.
That evening, he returned to the flower shop.
This time he left the Rolls-Royce two blocks away.
He walked.
It felt strangely appropriate.
Claire was locking the front door when she noticed him.
Her shoulders tightened.
“You came back.”
“You said not today.”
“That was yesterday.”
“I know.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
The twins were nowhere in sight.
“My neighbor is watching them upstairs,” Claire said, apparently reading his expression.
Alexander nodded.
“I need to ask you something.”
Claire sighed.
“I suspected you might.”
He took the photograph from his coat.
The moment she saw Dr. Bennett, her face changed.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
“Where did you get that?”
“Daniel found it.”
“So you investigated me.”
“No.”
Claire gave him a look.
Alexander corrected himself.
“I asked him to find you. He found more than I expected.”
She looked toward the empty street.
“I suppose I should have known you would.”
“Why were you at a high-risk pregnancy clinic?”
Claire unlocked the door again.
“Come inside.”
They entered the darkened shop.
Claire switched on only the lamps above the counter.
Shadows gathered among the flowers.
She removed her coat and folded it over a chair.
“The twins nearly didn’t make it.”
Alexander stopped.
“What?”
Claire took a slow breath.
“The pregnancy was difficult from the beginning.”
She sat down.
Alexander remained standing until she gestured toward the chair opposite her.
“Sit.”
He obeyed.
“At eleven weeks,” Claire said, “I started bleeding.”
Alexander’s hands tightened.
“I was alone.”
The two words nearly crushed him.
“My doctor sent me to a specialist outside Chicago because I didn’t want attention. Your divorce had been covered everywhere. Reporters were watching everything connected to the Moretti name.”
Alexander remembered the headlines.
BILLIONAIRE MORETTI DIVORCES WIFE.
$150 MILLION SETTLEMENT REJECTED.
MYSTERY BEHIND CHICAGO POWER COUPLE’S SPLIT.
He had ignored every article.
Claire had lived inside them.
“Dr. Bennett helped arrange the clinic,” she continued.
“Why Bennett?”
“Because I called him.”
Alexander frowned.
Claire folded her hands together.
“I needed answers.”
“To what?”
“To how I had gotten pregnant.”
There it was.
The question that had kept Alexander awake.
Claire studied him.
“You really don’t know.”
“No.”
She leaned back.
“Then perhaps you should.”
For several seconds, she seemed to be deciding how much of the past she was willing to reopen.
“When we started fertility treatment,” she said, “you insisted on handling many of the medical arrangements.”
Alexander remembered.
He had told Claire it was because he wanted to protect her from stress.
The truth had been uglier.
He wanted control.
“I believed everything the clinic told me,” Claire continued. “That my hormone levels were inconsistent. That implantation was failing. That sometimes there was no explanation.”
Alexander looked down.
“I altered some of the schedules.”
“I know.”
His eyes rose.
Claire’s voice remained steady.
“Dr. Bennett told me.”
Alexander went cold.
“He knew?”
“Not at first.”
She pulled open a drawer beneath the counter.
Inside was an envelope.
Old.
Creased.
She placed it between them.
“After I left you, Bennett reviewed everything.”
Alexander opened the envelope.
Inside were copies of medical records.
Dates.
Dosages.
Appointments.
Notes.
Some he recognized.
Some he did not.
Claire pointed to a page.
“You had your personal physician contact the clinic twice.”
Alexander remembered.
The memory tasted poisonous.
“I told them I was concerned about side effects.”
“You told them to delay medication.”
He said nothing.
Claire continued.
“You also missed several appointments when your participation was required.”
“I traveled.”
“You scheduled the travel.”
He looked away.
“Yes.”
Claire's voice softened.
“I spent three years believing my body had failed me.”
Alexander could not defend himself.
There was no defense.
“But Bennett found something else,” she said.
Alexander looked back at her.
“What?”
Claire tapped a laboratory report.
“On the final cycle, the clinic had already prepared embryos.”
Alexander frowned.
He remembered the cycle.
Barely.
He had canceled the transfer.
He had claimed an urgent business crisis required them to travel.
Claire had cried for days.
“I thought that cycle was abandoned.”
“It was.”
“Then how—”
“Something happened before that.”
Claire pushed another page toward him.
Alexander read it twice.
Then a third time.
A natural conception.
His pulse quickened.
Claire gave a faint, tired smile.
“Apparently, biology did not care about your planning.”
Alexander stared at the paper.
“You became pregnant naturally.”
“Yes.”
