Chapter 5 - The Child She Knew About
I did not sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Selina's smile above me on the living room floor.
Only now the smile meant something different.
She had known.
Not guessed.
Not suspected.
Known.
Five weeks before the stabbing, someone had photographed me leaving Lakeshore Women's Clinic.
I had gone there alone.
I had parked three blocks away because I did not want anyone from Flynn's world noticing the car.
I had worn sunglasses and a baseball cap like a ridiculous celebrity hiding from photographers.
I had done all of that because I wanted the pregnancy to belong to me for one quiet day before I told my husband.
Selina had stolen even that.
At 6:20 the next morning, Detective Alvarez arrived with another officer and a sealed evidence envelope.
"We found more photographs."
I gripped the blanket.
"How many?"
"Eleven."
"Of me?"
"Yes."
The photographs covered three weeks.
Me leaving the clinic.
Me entering a pharmacy.
Me meeting Camille's old colleague for coffee long before Camille became my lawyer.
Me walking through a grocery store.
Me sitting in my car outside Flynn's office.
Someone had been following me.
"Who took them?"
"We are tracing the files."
"Were they on Selina's computer?"
"Printed copies were in her desk."
"So she hired someone."
"Likely."
I pointed to the clinic photograph.
"If she knew I was pregnant, then the attack was not random."
Alvarez did not disagree.
That frightened me more than if she had.
"We need to be careful with the word attack."
"My husband stabbed me twice in the abdomen."
"I mean Selina's role."
"She lied about me hurting her."
"Yes."
"She prepared the lie in advance."
"The evidence points that way."
"She knew I was pregnant."
"Yes."
"She knew Flynn was holding a knife."
Alvarez's eyes narrowed.
"How would she know that before she entered the room?"
I stopped.
The question cut through my anger.
Flynn had been slicing an apple before Selina came inside.
If her plan depended on the knife, she needed to know it was there.
Or she needed to put it there.
I thought back to that afternoon.
The fruit bowl had been full.
Flynn almost never cut apples with a paring knife in the living room.
He usually ate them whole.
Why had he been slicing one that day?
Then I remembered something small.
A silver tray on the coffee table.
Apple slices arranged beside a small bowl of almonds.
Our housekeeper, Rosa, had been off that day.
I had assumed Flynn prepared it himself.
"Detective."
Alvarez leaned closer.
"What?"
"The knife was already in the living room."
"Yes."
"But that was unusual."
"How unusual?"
"Very."
I told her about the tray.
"Who prepared it?"
"I assumed Flynn did."
"Ask him."
Alvarez made a note.
At 9:00 a.m., Warren Pike held another press conference.
This time Flynn stood beside him.
Nathan turned on the television against my wishes.
Flynn looked older than he had four days earlier.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
His tie was slightly crooked.
For a man who had built his reputation on control, those tiny flaws felt almost shocking.
Pike read a statement saying Flynn was devastated by the loss of his unborn children and deeply remorseful for the harm caused to his wife.
Then Flynn stepped toward the microphone.
"I take full responsibility for my actions."
Reporters shouted questions.
"Did Selina Cole lie to you?"
"Did you know your wife was pregnant?"
"Are you being charged?"
Flynn lifted a hand.
"I will cooperate with law enforcement."
Then a reporter asked the only question that mattered to me.
"Do you still believe Selina Cole?"
Flynn froze.
Pike touched his elbow.
For one second, Flynn looked directly into the cameras.
"I do not know what to believe."
I turned off the television.
Nathan stared at the blank screen.
"That answer just cost him whatever sympathy he had left."
I felt nothing.
Not because the answer did not hurt.
Because I had finally stopped expecting him to choose reality over Selina.
At noon, Camille arrived with a copy of my old investment records.
She had contacted my former firm and obtained archived documents from the Vance financing.
We spread them across the bedside table.
"Your memory was right."
She tapped a conversion clause.
"If the Vance descendant trust receives more than twenty percent of voting shares, your preferred position converts at an enhanced ratio."
"How much enhanced?"
"Enough to give your holding company approximately 6.8 percent of Vance Global voting power."
I stared at her.
"That is enormous."
"Yes."
"Would the twins have triggered the trust transfer?"
"Not immediately."
"Then why would Selina care before they were born?"
Camille turned the page.
"Because Flynn's father amended the trust last year."
I read the clause.
Upon verified pregnancy of a lawful spouse, the trustee may begin preparatory transfer procedures.
My stomach tightened.
"Verified pregnancy."
"The transfer could have started before birth."
"Who is the trustee?"
Camille looked at me.
"Flynn."
I laughed once, without humor.
"Of course."
"There is more."
She pointed to another clause.
If Flynn became legally incapacitated, removed as trustee, or convicted of a felony involving violence against a spouse or descendant, control passed temporarily to an independent fiduciary.
"So if he is convicted, he loses control of the trust."
"Potentially."
"And my shares convert if the trust transfer begins."
"Potentially."
"Which means this mess can affect control of Vance Global."
"Significantly."
I leaned back against the pillow.
The story had just become larger than an affair.
Larger than jealousy.
Larger than one woman's obsession with my husband.
Money and control were now sitting underneath everything.
"Who benefits if I disappear?"
Camille's expression was grave.
"Your shares would pass according to your estate plan."
I closed my eyes.
"Flynn is the primary beneficiary."
"Was."
I looked at her.
"Was?"
"Your estate lawyer sent me an update you signed two years ago."
She turned the document around.
If I died without children, Nathan received my holding company.
If I died while pregnant, any surviving child inherited through a trust.
If the pregnancy did not survive me, Nathan again became beneficiary.
Selina gained nothing directly.
Flynn gained nothing directly.
But if I died and the shares passed to Nathan, the conversion rights might never activate because he was not Flynn's spouse.
The threat to Vance control would disappear.
"Someone who wanted to protect Flynn's control would want me gone before the pregnancy triggered the transfer."
Camille nodded slowly.
"Or someone who wanted Flynn to believe you were a threat to his company."
"Did he know about the conversion?"
"We need to find out."
That afternoon, Alvarez returned with Flynn's answer about the apple tray.
"He says he did not prepare it."
My skin prickled.
"Then who did?"
"He assumed you did."
"I did not."
Alvarez nodded.
"We spoke with the gate staff."
"And?"
"A catering courier entered at 3:21 p.m."
"We did not order catering."
"The gate log says the delivery was authorized under a guest access code."
I already knew what she was going to say.
"Whose code?"
"Selina Cole's."
My heartbeat accelerated.
"What did the courier deliver?"
"A small insulated bag."
"To whom?"
"He says he left it with a woman at the side entrance."
"What woman?"
"Dark hair, sunglasses, cream blouse."
Selina.
"Did he see her face?"
"Not clearly enough for a positive identification."
Alvarez opened her folder.
"But we recovered side entrance video."
The footage showed a woman shaped like Selina entering at 3:26 p.m.
She wore a cap low over her face.
She left four minutes later without the insulated bag.
At 3:34, an interior hallway camera recorded Flynn entering the living room.
At 3:36, he sat down and began eating the apple slices.
At 4:00, Selina appeared at the front door pretending she had just arrived.
I stared at the sequence.
"She was already in the house before she came to the front door."
"It appears someone entered using her access code."
"And left the knife."
Alvarez nodded toward the still image.
On the silver tray beside the apple was the paring knife.
The same knife Flynn later used on me.
My mouth went dry.
"She put the weapon in front of him."
"We cannot yet prove the woman in the cap was Selina."
"But she used Selina's code."
"Yes."
"And Selina had already prepared fake messages and an old photograph."
"Yes."
"And Selina knew I was pregnant."
"Yes."
For once, Alvarez did not add a caution.
The facts were beginning to speak loudly enough on their own.
Then she showed me the courier's delivery receipt.
The order had been placed online at 2:58 p.m.
The name on the account was fake.
The card used for payment belonged to S. Cole Consulting LLC.
Selina's company.
I stared at the receipt.
"Arrest her."
Alvarez's expression did not change.
"We are close."
"Close to what?"
"Conspiracy."
The word settled heavily between us.
I looked toward the ultrasound image beside my bed.
"She wanted Flynn angry."
"Yes."
"She wanted a knife within reach."
"That is one interpretation."
"She knew I was pregnant."
Alvarez said nothing.
My voice became quieter.
"She wanted him to hurt my stomach."
That was the first time Detective Alvarez looked away.
Later that evening, Flynn tried to call through Camille's office.
Camille refused the call.
Then Warren Pike sent a formal request for a private meeting.
He said Flynn had information relevant to the investigation and would speak only if I agreed to hear it in person with counsel present.
"Absolutely not," Nathan said.
Camille looked at me.
"It is your decision."
I thought of the tray.
The knife.
The photograph from the clinic.
The money.
The missing leather case.
"I will meet him."
Nathan stared at me.
"Why?"
"Because I want to see his face when he finds out she knew I was pregnant."
The meeting was scheduled in a hospital conference room the next morning.
Flynn arrived with Pike.
I arrived in a wheelchair with Camille and Detective Alvarez observing from the back by agreement.
Flynn looked at me as if I were something fragile he was afraid to approach.
I felt nothing.
Camille began.
"Mr. Vance, you requested this meeting."
Flynn nodded.
"I remembered something."
His voice was rough.
"About the knife?"
He looked at me.
"About Selina."
I waited.
"The week before it happened, she asked me what would happen to Vance Global if you ever had a child."
Every person in the room became still.
Flynn continued.
"I thought she was making conversation."
"What did you tell her?" Camille asked.
"I told her the family trust would eventually shift voting shares to my children."
I gripped the armrest.
"Did you tell her about my preferred shares?"
He looked confused.
"What preferred shares?"
Camille studied him.
"Do not answer that now."
Flynn ignored her.
"Mabel, I did not know you still held Vance preferred stock."
I believed him.
I hated that I believed him.
Then Alvarez stepped forward.
"Mr. Vance, did Ms. Cole know your wife was pregnant?"
Flynn's face changed.
"No."
"How certain are you?"
"I did not know."
"That is not what I asked."
He looked at me.
I reached into Camille's folder and placed the surveillance photograph from Lakeshore Women's Clinic on the table.
Flynn stared at it.
The color drained from his face.
"Where did you get this?"
"Selina's apartment," I said.
He looked up at me.
"She had this?"
"Five weeks before you stabbed me."
Flynn's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I slid the next photograph toward him.
The pharmacy purchase.
Then the still image of the side entrance.
Then the catering receipt paid by Selina's company.
Then the old photograph she had used to convince him I attacked her.
Flynn stared at the evidence in front of him.
His hands began to shake.
"No."
I watched him carefully.
"She knew I was pregnant before you did."
He looked sick.
"No."
"She planted the knife in our living room."
"Mabel."
"She staged the messages."
"Stop."
"She staged the scratch."
"Stop."
My voice did not rise.
"And you gave her exactly what she wanted."
Flynn pushed back from the table so quickly his chair struck the wall.
Pike grabbed his arm.
"Sit down."
Flynn did not seem to hear him.
He looked at Alvarez.
"Where is Selina now?"
Alvarez's expression became instantly alert.
"That is not your concern."
"Where is she?"
"Mr. Vance, sit down."
He turned toward the door.
Two officers blocked it.
For the first time, I saw pure hatred replace the love Flynn had always carried for Selina.
It should have satisfied me.
It did not.
Because hatred after the truth was easy.
Trusting me before violence would have mattered.
Flynn looked back at me.
His face was wrecked.
"She knew."
I held his gaze.
"Yes."
"She knew about our babies."
"Yes."
He covered his mouth with one hand.
Then Detective Alvarez's phone rang.
She answered, listened for several seconds, and her posture changed.
"When?"
She looked toward the door.
"Lock down the garage."
Everyone in the room froze.
Alvarez ended the call.
"What happened?" Camille asked.
Alvarez looked at me.
"Selina's apartment is empty."
Flynn went still.
"She left?"
Alvarez shook her head.
"Not exactly."
She glanced at the officers.
"We found her assistant, Megan Price, unconscious in the bedroom."
Then she looked directly at Flynn.
May you like
"And your private jet just filed a flight plan for Montreal."
