Chapter 5 - The Baby Wasn’t The Biggest Betrayal
For several seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
Patricia turned away.
Detective Collins remained near the doorway.
Lauren was crying into the phone.
“How far?”
My own voice sounded distant.
“Twelve weeks.”
I closed my eyes.
Twelve weeks.
The affair had become physical four months ago.
The math worked.
“Is Ryan the father?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
That hurt more.
Not because I wanted Ryan anymore.
I didn’t.
But seven years of marriage have memories embedded in places anger cannot immediately reach.
Ryan and I had once chosen baby names.
We had once stood in a nursery department holding a tiny yellow blanket.
We had lost a pregnancy at eleven weeks.
I had cried into his chest until morning.
Now my best friend was carrying his child.
Patricia walked into the kitchen.
I followed.
“Lauren,” I said, “why was the clinic envelope in the storage unit?”
Silence.
“I asked you a question.”
“Ryan didn’t want anything from the clinic coming to my apartment.”
“Why?”
“He was afraid you’d find out.”
“So he used a storage unit rented in my name?”
“Yes.”
I almost admired the cruelty of it.
Almost.
“What else?”
Lauren sniffed.
“What do you mean?”
“You did not call me only to tell me you’re pregnant.”
A long pause.
Then:
“Ryan promised me he was leaving you.”
I laughed once.
“That isn’t news.”
“He promised before the baby.”
“Still not news.”
“He said he was going to have money.”
I went still.
“What money?”
Patricia turned toward me.
Lauren continued.
“He said after the board meeting, everything would change.”
“The CEO vote?”
“Yes.”
“He told you he would control Mercer Development?”
“Yes.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“I know that now.”
Patricia muttered, “Apparently neither did he.”
Lauren’s voice lowered.
“There’s more.”
I waited.
“He said once he became CEO, he could move company assets.”
“What assets?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I swear.”
“Lauren.”
“He mentioned selling something.”
“What?”
“A property.”
Patricia came closer.
“What property?” she mouthed.
I repeated the question.
Lauren hesitated.
“The Hawthorne property.”
Patricia went completely still.
I noticed immediately.
“What is Hawthorne?”
She took the phone from my hand.
“What did Ryan say about Hawthorne?”
Lauren became quiet.
Patricia’s voice sharpened.
“What did he say?”
“That he could sell it once he had authority.”
Patricia nearly dropped the phone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She handed it back.
Her face was pale.
“Hawthorne isn’t his.”
“What is it?”
“My late husband’s largest remaining property holding.”
“How large?”
“Seventy-two acres outside Bend.”
I stared at her.
“What’s it worth?”
“Depending on zoning? Twelve to fifteen million.”
I looked at the phone.
Lauren whispered, “He told me it was basically his.”
Patricia laughed bitterly.
“Ryan has been saying things are ‘basically his’ since he was sixteen.”
She sat down.
“Hawthorne is held in a family trust.”
“Who controls the trust?”
“I do.”
There it was.
Ryan had planned an entire future around authority he did not possess.
CEO.
Company money.
Property sale.
Lauren.
A child.
He hadn’t merely cheated.
He had built a parallel life.
And he expected everyone else to finance it.
Detective Collins stepped into the kitchen.
“I need to know more about this trust.”
Patricia nodded.
“I’ll call the attorney.”
By eight thirty, three attorneys were involved.
My divorce lawyer.
Mercer Development counsel.
The family trust attorney.
And by nine, another piece fell into place.
Ryan had submitted preliminary paperwork two weeks earlier describing Hawthorne as an “underperforming corporate property.”
It wasn’t corporate property.
He had apparently hoped the board would approve a development sale without examining ownership closely.
The buyer?
North River Lifestyle Holdings.
His company with Lauren.
For $3.2 million.
A property worth potentially fifteen million.
Patricia stared at the proposed contract.
“He was going to buy our property using our money.”
Thomas nodded.
“And then potentially resell it.”
The profit could have been enormous.
The room became silent.
Lauren was no longer merely the woman sleeping with my husband.
She was named in the company Ryan planned to use.
Whether she understood the scheme or not, her signature appeared throughout it.
At 10:18, Ryan finally called Patricia.
She put him on speaker.
“Mom.”
“Where are you?”
“I need you to stop listening to Emma.”
Patricia looked at me.
“This has nothing to do with Emma.”
“She’s vindictive.”
“You forged documents.”
“Allegedly.”
“You tried to buy Hawthorne.”
Silence.
There.
He hadn’t expected her to know.
“Who told you?”
“You just did.”
Ryan swore.
“Mom, I can explain.”
“You keep saying that.”
“It was a development strategy.”
“At one-fifth the market value?”
“The land needs work.”
“It has three competing development inquiries worth over ten million.”
He said nothing.
Patricia leaned closer to the phone.
“You were going to steal from your own family.”
“Don’t call it stealing.”
“What would you call it?”
“Taking control.”
That sentence stayed in the room.
Taking control.
Patricia’s expression changed.
Some final piece of denial disappeared.
“Ryan.”
Her voice became very calm.
“You are removed from all Mercer entities effective immediately.”
“Mom.”
“Your accounts tied to the company are frozen.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I already did.”
“I’m your son!”
“Yes.”
Patricia swallowed.
“And that is why this hurts.”
He hung up.
I expected her to cry.
She didn’t.
She picked up her phone.
“Thomas, schedule an emergency board meeting for tomorrow.”
Then she looked at me.
“And Emma?”
“Yes?”
“You should file for divorce today.”
I already had.
Rebecca submitted the petition at 4:36 p.m.
Ryan was served electronically and physically the following afternoon.
But before that happened, something else occurred.
At 11:47 that night, my security camera sent an alert.
Motion detected.
I opened the app.
A hooded figure stood at my front door.
For one second, I thought Ryan had returned.
Then the person lifted their face.
Lauren.
She was holding a blue binder.
The missing binder.
She looked directly into the camera.
Then she whispered something I barely heard.
“Emma, Ryan knows I have it.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
Headlights appeared behind her.
Lauren began pounding on my door.
“Open up!”
The car stopped at the curb.
A man stepped out.
May you like
Ryan.
And he was running toward her.
