Chapter 2 - He Discovered Why His Pregnant Wife Called Him Eleven Times—Then His Mistress Revealed the Baby Wasn't the Only Thing He Almost Lost That NightAt 5:03 a.m., Vincent called Marcus Sinclair.
Marcus answered on second ring.
“What?”
Vincent's voice sounded wrong.
“May seventeenth.”
Silence.
Marcus knew.
Vincent heard it.
“What happened?”
“You should ask Audrey.”
“I am asking you.”
“Then you're asking wrong person.”
Vincent stood.
“What happened to my son?”
Marcus exhaled.
“Your son survived.”
“I know he's alive.”
“No. You don't understand.”
Vincent's fingers tightened.
“Then make me understand.”
Marcus spoke quietly.
“Audrey hemorrhaged.”
The room shifted.
“What?”
“She was sixteen weeks pregnant.”
“I know.”
“She started bleeding at home. She called you. Eleven times.”
Each number felt like sentence.
“I heard voicemail.”
“Good.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“I called too.”
Vincent searched memory.
One missed call from Marcus.
He had ignored that as well.
“By time I reached her, she was on bathroom floor.”
Vincent closed eyes.
“She was conscious?”
“Barely.”
“Did she—”
“She kept asking for you.”
That hurt worst.
Marcus continued.
“Doctors thought pregnancy might be lost. Placental bleeding. They stabilized her. She stayed overnight.”
Vincent sat.
“I came home next morning.”
“Yes.”
“She was there.”
“Yes.”
“I remember she looked tired.”
“She had been discharged ninety minutes earlier.”
Vincent's stomach turned.
He remembered complaining breakfast coffee was cold.
Audrey had reheated it.
She had stood at kitchen counter after spending night in hospital trying not to lose their child.
And he had walked in after sleeping with another woman.
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“She tried.”
Vincent looked at letter.
“She said she tried eleven times.”
“No.”
Marcus's voice hardened.
“She tried for weeks.”
Vincent stopped.
“What?”
“She started telling you at dinner two days later. You took business call.”
Another time in car.
Vincent had told her not now.
Another at his father's birthday.
He had said they'd talk at home.
Another night Audrey sat on edge of bed holding hospital discharge papers.
Vincent came home at 2:00 a.m., showered, and fell asleep.
Eventually she stopped.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“Because she's my sister, not your employee. She asked me not to.”
“You should've ignored her.”
“And done what? Report her private medical trauma to husband who couldn't answer phone?”
Vincent flinched.
Marcus continued.
“You don't get to become protective now and pretend protection would've fixed absence.”
Vincent couldn't argue.
“Where is she?”
“No.”
“I need to see her.”
“No.”
“Marcus.”
“She's sleeping.”
“Is blood pressure okay?”
“Doctor checked.”
“Baby?”
“Stable.”
“I need—”
Marcus cut him off.
“You need to stop beginning sentences with what you need.”
Call ended.
Vincent stared at phone.
Audrey had said same thing.
Maybe when same truth came from multiple people, it was no longer criticism.
It was diagnosis.
At 8:00 a.m., Vincent canceled everything.
Meetings.
Board dinner.
Private club appointment.
Joanna called at 8:14.
He watched phone ring.
Did not answer.
She called again.
Third time he answered.
“We need to talk.”
Joanna sounded cautious.
“Are you home?”
“Yes.”
“I can come over.”
“No.”
Pause.
“What happened?”
“My wife left.”
Joanna said nothing for moment.
Then:
“I'm sorry.”
Vincent almost laughed.
“Are you?”
“That's unfair.”
“Is it?”
“You told me your marriage was already over.”
“I lied.”
Silence.
He had never said it so plainly.
Joanna's voice changed.
“You said you and Audrey hadn't been real couple in years.”
“Another lie.”
“Vincent—”
“I slept beside her.”
No response.
“I ate breakfast she made. She handled my parents' medical care. She carried my child. She waited for me every night.”
His throat tightened.
“And I told you marriage was dead because that made what I was doing easier to look at.”
Joanna exhaled.
“You can't put all of this on me.”
“I'm not.”
And he meant it.
“You didn't make vows to Audrey. I did.”
Joanna went silent.
Vincent continued.
“It's over.”
“Because she finally caught you?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because I finally caught myself.”
He ended call.
At 10:30, Marcus Hale—Vincent's security chief, unrelated to Audrey's brother Marcus Sinclair—entered townhouse with folder.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
Hale placed folder down.
“You asked me six months ago to quietly monitor leaks around Moretti Hospitality.”
Vincent remembered.
Several competitors seemed to know acquisition bids too early.
“And?”
“Joanna Rask has been meeting with Nathan Cole.”
Vincent looked up.
Nathan Cole.
Former Moretti accountant.
Fired four years earlier after internal audit found suspicious transfers.
“What kind of meetings?”
“Private.”
“Since when?”
“Eight months.”
Two months before affair began.
Vincent became still.
“Why wasn't I told?”
“You were.”
Hale placed copies of emails.
Vincent had received them.
His assistant flagged.
Vincent replied:
Joanna is cleared. Stop wasting resources.
He had trusted desire over evidence.
Again.
“What does Cole want?”
“Unknown.”
“Find out legally.”
Hale's eyebrow rose.
Years earlier Vincent would not have added last word.
“Understood.”
At noon Audrey woke at Marcus Sinclair's apartment.
Her brother had turned guest room into temporary nursery despite baby not being due another month.
Audrey stood doorway.
“You bought a crib?”
“Facebook Marketplace.”
“You don't even have children.”
“I watched YouTube.”
“That is not reassuring.”
Marcus smiled.
Then expression softened.
“He called.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“He sent message.”
She looked at phone.
I listened to voicemail. I am sorry. I won't come unless you ask. Please tell me only if you and baby are medically safe. Nothing else is owed to me.
Audrey had read it seven times.
She did not answer.
Not yet.
Her obstetrician called that afternoon.
Blood pressure improved slightly.
Bed rest remained.
Audrey was thirty-five weeks and four days.
Every day mattered.
She knew that clinically.
Emotionally, each day felt like standing at edge.
At 4:00 p.m., doorbell rang.
Marcus checked camera.
His face hardened.
“It's her.”
“Who?”
“Joanna.”
Audrey stared.
“Don't let her in.”
Joanna spoke through intercom.
“I need five minutes.”
Marcus reached to disconnect.
Audrey stopped him.
“Why are you here?”
Joanna's voice came through speaker.
“Because Vincent ended it.”
Audrey laughed.
“Congratulations?”
“No. Because I think you're in danger.”
Marcus and Audrey exchanged look.
Ten minutes later Joanna sat across from them.
No designer armor.
No glamorous dress.
Jeans.
Coat.
Fear.
Audrey remained cold.
“You have five minutes.”
Joanna nodded.
“Nathan Cole approached me eight months ago.”
“Who?”
Marcus knew name.
“Former Moretti accountant.”
Joanna continued.
“He told me Vincent was moving illegal money through hospitality properties.”
Audrey looked at Marcus.
“Was he?”
Joanna answered.
“I don't know. Nathan wanted proof. He knew Vincent trusted me professionally.”
“And personally?”
Joanna swallowed.
“That happened later.”
Audrey's face remained still.
“Don't sanitize it.”
Joanna lowered eyes.
“Yes.”
“You slept with my husband.”
“Yes.”
“Knowing he was married.”
“Yes.”
“Knowing I was pregnant.”
Joanna's voice became quiet.
“Yes.”
Audrey nodded.
“Good. Continue.”
Joanna looked almost grateful for cruelty.
“Nathan asked me to photograph documents. At first I refused. Then he showed me evidence that someone in Moretti organization was moving money through maternal-health charities.”
Audrey froze.
“What charities?”
“Moretti Women's Foundation.”
Audrey sat straighter.
She served on board.
Joanna continued.
“Money was entering foundation, then leaving through shell clinics.”
Marcus asked:
“How much?”
“Twenty-six million over four years.”
Audrey's stomach tightened.
“Why come now?”
“Because Nathan sent this last night.”
She placed phone on table.
Message:
THE WIFE LEFT. GOOD. PHASE TWO STARTS BEFORE BABY IS BORN.
Audrey stared.
“What is phase two?”
“I don't know.”
“Why would my leaving matter?”
Joanna hesitated.
“Because Nathan believes your signature controls foundation reserve.”
Audrey understood.
The foundation held more than eighty million in restricted charitable assets.
As board chair, Audrey's authorization was required for major transfers.
“I would never sign.”
“I know.”
“Nathan knows too.”
Joanna looked directly at her.
“He doesn't need you to sign willingly.”
Marcus stood.
“We're calling police.”
Joanna nodded.
“Do it.”
Audrey looked at her.
“You're willing to testify?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Joanna's face twisted.
“Because I thought I was exposing Vincent.”
She looked down.
“I didn't understand Nathan was using me to reach you.”
Audrey felt baby move.
Hard.
Then another tightening across abdomen.
She breathed.
Marcus noticed.
“Contraction?”
“Braxton Hicks.”
“You sure?”
“I was labor nurse eleven years.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Audrey almost smiled.
Then phone rang.
Vincent.
She stared.
Did not answer.
It rang again.
Third time.
Joanna looked at screen.
“Answer.”
Audrey frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Nathan knows I came here.”
“How?”
Joanna's face drained.
“My phone.”
She reached into purse.
A red light blinked near charging port.
Tracker.
Marcus swore.
Audrey answered Vincent.
“Hello?”
His voice came fast.
“Audrey, leave Marcus's apartment now.”
She stood.
“How do you—”
“Hale found Nathan Cole's vehicle two blocks away.”
Marcus moved toward window.
Vincent continued.
“Police are coming. Do not go downstairs.”
Then glass shattered.
Marcus threw Audrey down.
A bullet struck wall.
Joanna screamed.
Audrey covered stomach.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Vincent's voice came through phone.
“Audrey!”
“I'm here.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Baby?”
“I don't know.”
Her abdomen tightened again.
This one hurt.
Then warmth spread beneath her.
Audrey looked down.
Blood.
Not much.
But enough.
Her training took over.
“Marcus.”
He turned.
“We need hospital.”
Vincent heard.
“What happened?”
Audrey breathed through another contraction.
“Vincent.”
“Yes?”
“I think I'm in labor.”
For second, most feared man in Chicago forgot how to speak.
May you like
Then Audrey added:
“And this time, you're answering the phone.”
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