Chapter 3 - SLOANE CAME TO MY HOME TO TELL ME I HAD LOST
Sloane arrived at 8:14 the next morning.
She didn't ring downstairs.
She still had Preston's secondary access credential.
That became evidence number twenty-seven.
I was drinking tea when the elevator opened.
She stepped out wearing black trousers, a camel coat, and the expression of someone arriving to negotiate the surrender of a defeated country.
Then she saw Gabriel.
Her confidence faltered.
“Where's Preston?”
“Not here.”
I had asked Preston to stay at the Lowell Hotel while temporary living arrangements were negotiated.
He objected.
Gabriel reminded him that creating conflict around a pregnant spouse while Section Nine was active would be unwise.
Preston left.
Sloane removed her sunglasses.
“You threw him out?”
“I asked him to leave.”
“This is his apartment.”
“That's becoming a surprisingly complicated question.”
Her jaw tightened.
Gabriel stood.
“Ms. Mercer, you should know Vivian is represented.”
“I didn't come to speak to you.”
“Then I recommend you speak carefully.”
Sloane ignored him and approached me.
“You froze my father's financing.”
“No. The trust suspended disbursement pending review.”
“You know what that means.”
“Yes.”
“You could collapse the deal.”
“Possibly.”
She laughed bitterly.
“So this is revenge.”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe this suddenly became a financial concern after yesterday?”
“It became a financial concern when I learned your father tied financing conditions to Preston remaining personally involved in the transaction while you were having an undisclosed relationship with him.”
Her expression flickered.
There.
She hadn't known I knew that part.
Mercer Capital wasn't merely investing.
Sloane's father, Richard Mercer, had demanded Preston personally guarantee certain performance obligations.
If Preston was removed as CEO, the financing could be renegotiated.
Sloane had been helping keep Preston in control.
And Preston had been helping ensure Mercer obtained favorable conversion rights.
Their affair sat directly inside a conflict neither side disclosed properly.
“You don't understand the deal,” she said.
“I understand it better than you.”
“You're an heiress playing accountant.”
I smiled.
“Is that what Preston told you?”
“He told me plenty.”
“I’m sure.”
“He said you had no interest in business.”
“I don't.”
That surprised her.
“I have an interest in not financing dishonest people.”
Her face hardened.
“You think you're better than me.”
“No.”
“You're enjoying this.”
“No.”
That was true.
I wasn't enjoying any of it.
I was pregnant.
My marriage was collapsing.
The father of my child had humiliated me in a medical room.
Power didn't make heartbreak pleasant.
It only gave me options.
Sloane leaned toward me.
“Preston loves me.”
I looked at her.
“Then why are you here?”
She blinked.
“If you had him, you wouldn't need me to lose.”
Silence.
Gabriel looked down, perhaps hiding approval.
Sloane's cheeks reddened.
“You have no idea what your marriage was like from his side.”
“That's probably true.”
“He was miserable.”
“Then he should have left.”
“You would've destroyed him.”
“I’m divorcing him now.”
“Exactly.”
“No. I'm enforcing a contract he demanded.”
Her lips parted.
“He wanted the prenup, Sloane.”
That landed.
“He wanted protection from me.”
I continued.
“He just never imagined I might need protection from him.”
Sloane picked up her purse.
At the elevator, she turned.
“You'll regret making an enemy of my father.”
Gabriel spoke before I could.
“Was that intended as a threat?”
She froze.
“No.”
“Excellent.”
The elevator closed.
Gabriel waited.
Then looked at me.
“She is remarkably bad at this.”
I laughed for the first time in twenty-four hours.
Then pain tightened across my abdomen.
My smile disappeared.
Gabriel stood immediately.
“Vivian?”
I breathed.
Another tightening.
Not sharp.
Pressure.
Then it faded.
“Probably Braxton Hicks.”
“Probably isn't a diagnosis.”
“You've known too many doctors.”
“I've known you since you were twelve. Call Elaine.”
I did.
Dr. Porter wanted me examined.
Stress.
Pregnancy.
Twenty-eight weeks.
No unnecessary chances.
At Saint Aurelia, the same nurse from yesterday met me.
Her name was Maya.
She looked nervous.
“I’m sorry about what happened.”
“You didn't do anything wrong.”
“I should've removed them.”
“I told you not to.”
She nodded.
“Administration interviewed me.”
“You're not in trouble.”
Her shoulders loosened.
“I made sure of that.”
“Thank you.”
During the examination, my baby's heartbeat filled the room again.
This time there was no Preston.
No Sloane.
No humiliation.
Just me.
Maya.
Dr. Porter.
And that impossible little sound.
Strong.
Fast.
Alive.
I cried quietly.
Maya handed me a tissue.
“Do you want to know today?”
I knew what she meant.
The sex.
I looked at the monitor.
Then shook my head.
“Not yet.”
May you like
I wanted one beautiful thing that Preston had not contaminated.
I would wait.
