Chapter 2 - THE RING IN HIS MOTHER’S HAND
Daniel Harrison stared at the diamond in his mother’s palm as though it belonged to someone else.
“What did she say?”
Margaret’s fingers closed around the ring.
Around them, the ballroom kept moving.
The orchestra played.
Servers passed champagne.
People laughed because they had not yet realized that the marriage everyone in Manhattan considered untouchable had just ended thirty feet from the dance floor.
Margaret looked at her son.
“She said she finally chose peace.”
Daniel’s face emptied.
“What does that mean?”
“You know exactly what it means.”
“No, I don’t.”
Margaret’s eyes moved past him toward Vanessa.
Vanessa had stopped smiling.
For the first time that evening, she looked uncomfortable.
Daniel followed his mother’s gaze.
“Don’t do this.”
Margaret’s voice hardened.
“I’m not the one who did this.”
“It was a dance.”
“Was Chicago a dance?”
Daniel went still.
Vanessa turned sharply.
Margaret saw it.
So did Daniel.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
Margaret’s expression changed.
Not anger.
Disappointment.
The kind a mother saved for the moment her grown son became a stranger.
“You really thought no one noticed?”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Mom.”
“You disappeared from the hotel bar with her at one in the morning.”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Margaret, I don’t think this is the place—”
Margaret looked at her.
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
The words were quiet enough that only the three of them heard them.
They still landed like a slap.
Daniel glanced toward the entrance.
Amy was gone.
He pulled out his phone.
No answer.
He called again.
Straight to voicemail.
A third time.
Nothing.
Then a fourth.
Vanessa touched his sleeve.
“Daniel, people are watching.”
He looked down at her hand.
Something about the gesture suddenly felt different.
Not intimate.
Possessive.
He removed her fingers from his arm.
“My wife just left.”
Vanessa’s jaw tightened.
“Then go after her.”
“I intend to.”
Daniel walked away.
He barely remembered crossing the lobby.
Outside, the Manhattan night was wet and glittering. Cars moved along Fifth Avenue in long ribbons of white and red light.
Daniel searched the curb.
No Amy.
He approached the doorman.
“My wife. Amy Harrison. She just came through here.”
The man hesitated.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where did she go?”
“She got into a black sedan.”
“What company?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Which direction?”
“Downtown.”
Daniel called Amy again.
Voicemail.
He texted.
Where are you?
Then:
Please answer me.
Then:
Whatever you think you saw, let me explain.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
He read the words again.
Whatever you think you saw.
Even Daniel knew how guilty that sounded.
He deleted the unfinished message beneath it.
Margaret appeared behind him.
“You should go home.”
“I need to find her.”
“If she wanted you to follow her, she wouldn’t have handed me that ring.”
Daniel turned.
“You think I’m just going to let my pregnant—”
He stopped.
Margaret frowned.
“Your what?”
Daniel stared at her.
He had not meant to say the word.
Pregnant.
Why had it come into his head?
Maybe because Margaret looked pale.
Maybe because Amy had been different lately.
Tired.
Skipping wine.
Touching her stomach unconsciously.
Leaving dinner early.
The pieces appeared one at a time.
Daniel’s heartbeat accelerated.
“Has Amy told you something?”
Margaret’s expression became guarded.
“No.”
“Mom.”
“She hasn’t told me anything.”
Daniel watched her too closely.
Margaret was telling the truth.
That frightened him even more.
He left the gala without saying goodbye to a single guest.
Vanessa watched him go.
Twenty minutes later, Daniel entered the penthouse and immediately knew Amy had planned this.
Her closet was not empty.
That would have been too obvious.
Instead, selected things were gone.
Her gray travel coat.
Two pairs of jeans.
Running shoes.
Her favorite sweater.
The leather bag she had owned since college.
In the bathroom, one toothbrush remained.
His.
Daniel stood in the doorway.
“Amy?”
Silence.
He checked the guest room.
Kitchen.
Terrace.
Office.
Nothing.
Then he entered their bedroom.
A small envelope sat on Amy’s side of the dresser.
His name was written across the front.
Daniel stopped breathing.
He opened it.
The photograph slid into his hand.
Gray.
Black.
White.
Tiny.
Unmistakable.
An ultrasound.
Below it, in Amy’s handwriting:
We’re going to be parents.
Daniel sat down hard on the bed.
For nearly a minute, he could not move.
Then he found the date.
Seventeen weeks.
His fingers began to shake.
Four months.
Amy had been pregnant for four months.
He thought of London.
Dallas.
San Francisco.
The Saturday morning he had rolled a suitcase past their bedroom while she sat up half asleep.
You said this weekend was ours.
Something came up.
He remembered kissing her forehead.
I’ll make it up to you.
Daniel bent forward and pressed both hands against his face.
His phone rang.
Vanessa.
He rejected the call.
It rang again.
He rejected it again.
A third time.
Daniel answered.
“What?”
Vanessa’s voice softened.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“My wife is pregnant.”
Silence.
Then Vanessa said, “What?”
Daniel looked at the ultrasound.
“Seventeen weeks.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Neither did I.”
“Daniel…”
He heard something in her voice.
A hesitation.
A calculation.
And suddenly another memory returned.
Chicago.
A hotel lounge.
Too much bourbon.
Vanessa sitting beside him after the conference dinner.
Her hand touching his tie.
Her saying Amy never understood what it took to build something like Harrison Freight.
Daniel remembered telling her she was wrong.
Then remembered Vanessa kissing him.
And the part he had spent months refusing to examine honestly:
He had kissed her back.
Only for several seconds.
Only once.
He had stopped it.
He had left.
He had never slept with her.
But he had kissed her back.
And then he had returned home and said nothing.
“Did Amy know about Chicago?” Vanessa asked.
Daniel looked toward the dark window.
“I don’t know.”
“You told me it meant nothing.”
“It shouldn’t have happened.”
“It didn’t go anywhere.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
Vanessa’s voice sharpened.
“Don’t suddenly turn me into a villain because your wife decided to disappear.”
Daniel stood.
“My wife didn’t just decide to disappear.”
“Daniel—”
“She spent four months carrying my child while I gave her every reason to believe she came second.”
Vanessa went quiet.
Daniel looked again at the photograph.
Something small and almost impossibly human floated in gray shadow.
His child.
Amy had gone to appointments alone.
He had missed all of it.
A knock came from the front door.
Margaret.
Daniel ended the call.
His mother entered and immediately saw the ultrasound in his hand.
Her face changed.
“Oh, Daniel.”
He looked at her.
“You really didn’t know?”
“No.”
Margaret sat beside him.
“How far?”
“Seventeen weeks.”
She covered her mouth.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Daniel whispered, “I kissed Vanessa.”
Margaret’s eyes closed.
“In Chicago.”
“How long?”
“Seconds.”
Margaret opened her eyes.
“That is not what I asked.”
Daniel understood.
“How long has this been going on?”
“It hasn’t.”
“Emotional affairs still count.”
“I didn’t have an affair.”
“Did you hide messages from Amy?”
Daniel said nothing.
“Did you know Vanessa wanted you?”
Silence.
“Did you enjoy it?”
His jaw tightened.
Margaret nodded slowly.
“There’s your answer.”
Daniel stood.
“I’m finding Amy.”
“No.”
He turned.
Margaret held out the ring.
“You’ve spent years assuming she would stay wherever you left her.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No. What’s unfair is making a woman compete with a company, then acting shocked when she refuses to compete with another woman too.”
Daniel stared at his mother.
Margaret set the ring beside the ultrasound.
“You don’t get to chase her just because you’re finally afraid.”
“She’s carrying my child.”
“And she is still a person before she is the mother of your child.”
Daniel looked away.
His phone vibrated.
A bank alert.
Then another.
Not Amy.
His security director, Lucas.
Call me immediately. Possible unauthorized access to Mrs. Harrison’s travel profile.
Daniel read the message twice.
Then called.
Lucas answered immediately.
“We have a problem.”
“What problem?”
“Someone accessed your family travel account twenty-seven minutes ago.”
Daniel’s body went cold.
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Did they see Amy’s itinerary?”
A pause.
“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”
Daniel looked at Margaret.
“Lock everything.”
“I already did.”
“Find out who accessed it.”
“I will.”
Daniel ended the call.
Margaret stood.
“What happened?”
“Someone may be trying to find Amy.”
“Who?”
Daniel slowly turned toward the ballroom invitation lying on the dresser.
At the bottom were the names of the foundation’s executive staff.
One name stood above the rest.
Vanessa Cole — Director of Public Relations.
May you like
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
“I think I know where to start.”
