Chapter 5 - The Uninvited Guest
It was raining again on Wednesday afternoon when the doorbell rang.
I was in the kitchen, organizing the nursery shelves, folding tiny cotton onesies into neat little drawers. The bell rang twice, sharp and demanding.
When I opened the front door, Rebecca Thornton was standing on the porch.
She had changed out of the midnight-blue dress. Today she wore a beige cashmere coat, oversized sunglasses, and designer boots that looked entirely out of place on my stone steps. Her hair was windblown, and her composure was visibly frayed.
"Natalie," she said, stepping forward uninvited. "We need to talk."
I didn't move from the threshold. I kept my hand on the edge of the open door, blocking her path into the foyer.
"There is nothing for us to talk about, Rebecca," I said, my voice steady and cold.
"You don't understand," she stammered, pulling off her sunglasses to reveal swollen, red-rimmed eyes. "Grant lied to me. He told me you two had been separated for two years. He said the marriage was just a legal technicality, that you were living separate lives, and that he was filing for divorce the minute the baby was born."
I stared at her. A strange mixture of pity and disgust rose in my chest.
"And you believed him?" I asked. "Even when he told you to wear my dead father's custom birthday dress to his funeral? Even when he snuck you into our home while I was at prenatal appointments?"
Rebecca flinched. She clutched her leather handbag to her chest as if it could protect her from the words. "He promised me things, Natalie. He said we were going to Paris next month. He said—"
"He said whatever he needed to say to keep you compliant," I interrupted. "Just like he said whatever he needed to say to keep me quiet. You weren't the great love of his life, Rebecca. You were just his favorite accessory of the season. And now that the bills are coming due, he's probably already blocked your number."
The color drained entirely from Rebecca’s face. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The reality of what she had hitched her wagon to—a sinking ship captained by a coward—was finally crashing down around her.
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"Leave the property, Rebecca," I said quietly, pulling the door closed until only a few inches of space remained. "And if you ever come near my home or my child again, Edward Blackwood will add your name to the corporate fraud lawsuit as an unindicted co-conspirator."
I didn't wait for her answer. I clicked the heavy oak door shut, threw the deadbolt, and listened as her designer boots clicked rapidly down the stone steps and faded into the afternoon rain.
