Chapter 3 - She Was Being Positioned
That afternoon, Victoria found Claire holding the folder.
For the first time, her mask slipped completely.
“You had no right to touch that.”
Claire stared at her.
“What is this?”
“Protection.”
“For who?”
“For my grandchild.”
Claire’s hand went to her belly.
“My child.”
Victoria smiled.
“For now.”
That was when Claire realized she was not only being bullied.
She was being positioned.
If Victoria could make Claire look unstable enough, weak enough, careless enough, maybe Daniel would sign something during a crisis.
Maybe after delivery.
Maybe if Claire was medicated.
Maybe if the baby needed care.
Maybe if Victoria convinced everyone that Claire could not handle motherhood.
Claire called Daniel that night.
He answered from a hotel lobby in Chicago, distracted, exhausted.
“Baby, is everything okay?”
She looked at the folder on the bed.
Then at the closed bedroom door.
Victoria was downstairs.
Madison was somewhere in the hall.
“I need you to come home.”
His voice sharpened.
“Is it the baby?”
“No. It’s your mother.”
Daniel sighed.
Not in disbelief exactly.
But in fatigue.
That sigh hurt.
“Claire, I know she’s intense.”
“No. Listen to me. She has papers.”
“What papers?”
“I don’t know. Something about the baby.”
“Take pictures and send them.”
“I tried. Madison came upstairs.”
A pause.
Then Daniel said, “I’ll call Mom.”
“No,” Claire whispered. “Don’t warn her.”
He went quiet.
That was the first time he heard the fear under her voice.
“Claire.”
“I’m scared.”
The words finally left her.
There was no taking them back.
Daniel’s voice changed.
“Lock the bedroom door.”
“She took the key.”
“Claire—”
“I’m okay right now.”
“No. You are not.”
He wanted to fly home immediately.
But storms grounded flights that evening.
Daniel drove through the night instead.
He told no one.
Not Victoria.
Not Madison.
Not even Claire, after her phone suddenly went dead thirty minutes after their call.
Victoria told Claire the next morning that Daniel had an emergency board meeting.
“He’ll be gone through Monday,” she said.
Claire said nothing.
Her phone was missing from the charger.
Victoria claimed she had left it in the pantry.
Madison found it later in a drawer.
Dead.
“Pregnancy brain,” Madison said.
Claire understood then.
They were not even hiding the setup anymore.
By afternoon, Victoria announced she needed groceries for a family dinner.
Claire said she was tired.
Victoria looked at Madison.
Madison smiled.
“Fresh air will help.”
The grocery list was absurd.
Milk.
Wine.
Cream.
Fruit.
Frozen pastry.
Soda.
Roast vegetables.
Six heavy bags.
No driver.
No help.
When Claire returned from the store, freezing rain had begun. She parked at the bottom of the driveway because Madison’s car blocked the upper space.
Victoria watched from the porch.
Dry.
Warm.
Waiting.
Claire carried the bags because refusing felt dangerous.
Halfway up the driveway, her lower back cramped.
She stopped.
“Can someone help me?”
Victoria lifted her wine glass.
“You’re pregnant, not porcelain.”
Madison walked down from the porch.
Claire almost cried from relief.
May you like
Then Madison grabbed her shoulder.
And shoved.
