Chapter 3 - The Unraveling of Lies
Daniel grabbed the polished wooden banister as if the floor beneath his feet had suddenly turned to quicksand. His chest heaved, his sun-kissed skin turning a sickly, pale gray.
"Grace, stop joking around," Daniel breathed, his voice trembling as he forced the words out. "Where is my son? Is he upstairs? Did something happen?"
"Three days after you walked out of this house to chase your precious investors and your mistress," Grace said, her voice dropping into an icy, measured register, "Noah spiked a 104-degree fever. His little body started trembling. He couldn't breathe, Daniel. He was suffocating in my arms."
Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head frantically. "No... no, you called me? Why didn't you call me?"
"I called you nineteen times!" Grace screamed, the pent-up rage of five agonizing days finally exploding out of her. "Nineteen times, Daniel! My phone battery died at one percent while I was screaming your name into voicemail, begging you to answer because your son needed you! But you weren't answering your phone, were you? You were too busy drinking champagne on a Caribbean beach with Celeste!"
Daniel stumbled forward, reaching out a trembling hand toward her. "Grace, I swear to God, I didn't know—if I had known he was sick, I would have caught the first flight back—"
"With what car, Daniel?" Grace interrupted, stepping directly into his personal space, forcing him to look down into her blazing eyes. "You drove my SUV to the airport because your own car was in the shop. You took my wallet and my debit cards out of the diaper bag. When Noah was turning blue in my arms, I had no car, no money, no identification, and no husband. If it hadn't been for our seventy-three-year-old neighbor Mrs. Alvarez hearing me pound on the wall until my knuckles split open, our son would be dead in a morgue right now!"
The words hit Daniel like physical body blows. He staggered back against the wall, sliding down slightly until his knees buckled, clutching his head in his hands.
"Boston Children’s Hospital," Grace continued relentlessly, her voice dripping with absolute contempt. "Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. Room 412. That’s where your son has spent the last five days fighting for his life against a severe respiratory infection while you were posting vacation updates on social media. The doctors had to place him on an oxygen tent, Daniel. Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch nurses stick IV needles into the arms of a newborn who weighs less than eight pounds, all while your husband is ignoring your calls to play house with another woman?"
"Grace, please..." Daniel choked out, tears finally spilling over his eyelashes and tracking down his sun-darkened cheeks. "I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know..."
"You didn't care," Grace corrected coldly. "There is a massive difference between not knowing and not caring. You chose not to care. From the moment you packed that bag and walked out the door knowing how fragile we both were, you made your choice."
Daniel looked up, his face a mask of desperate, pathetic pleading. "Where is he now? Can I go see him? Please, Grace, let me go to the hospital. I need to see my boy."
Grace crossed her arms over her chest, looking down at the groering man on her foyer floor with absolute detachment.
"You aren't going anywhere near my son," Grace said clearly. "When you were in St. Lucia enjoying your little getaway, I consulted a top family law attorney in Boston. While you were boarding your flight this morning, the preliminary divorce papers were already being filed."
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Daniel froze. The color drained completely from his face, leaving him looking hollowed out. "A divorce? Grace, you can't be serious. We've been together for twelve years! We have a baby!"
"You had a family, Daniel," Grace replied softly, turning her back on him and walking toward the kitchen. "You traded it for a suitcase full of souvenirs and a woman who won't even remember your name when your company accounts are frozen. Pack your bags, Daniel. When I come back downstairs in ten minutes, I want you gone."
