Chapter 1 - THE GLASS DOOR
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Seven months pregnant beneath a thousand glittering crystal lights, I stood completely motionless outside the half-closed library of Manhattan’s Halston Grand Hotel. One hand rested on the heavy curve of my stomach, while three hundred elite guests celebrated beyond the velvet curtains of the main ballroom. Inside the quiet room, Dominic Callahan, my billionaire husband, poured himself another finger of amber scotch. Beside him stood Vanessa Cole, his sharp-eyed communications director—and the woman I was rapidly realizing was far more than an employee.
“She has served her purpose,” Dominic said, his smooth, melodic Italian echoing off the mahogany bookshelves. “She carries my son. After he is born, I throw the toy away.”
My fingers tightened so hard around my crystal glass that the thin stem nearly snapped in my palm. Dominic believed I was just a quiet Brooklyn girl who knew nothing beyond basic English and polite conversational phrases. He never knew my mother had been born in Naples, or that I had spent four years studying advanced Italian literature in college. Years ago, before our lavish wedding, I had even spent weeks quietly translating complex shipping contracts that ultimately saved Callahan Maritime from bankruptcy when his father’s estate was collapsing.
“And the attorneys?” Vanessa asked softly, leaning close enough that her perfume drifted into the hallway.
“They are fully prepared,” Dominic replied in effortless Italian, swirling his glass. “As soon as the child is delivered, we document a sudden psychological breakdown. Postpartum instability. Paranoia. Dangerous behavior toward the child.”
I stopped breathing entirely. The air in the carpeted corridor felt like lead in my lungs.
“She’ll fight you, Dominic,” Vanessa warned, her tone laced with low intrigue. “She isn't completely helpless.”
“She has no money of her own,” Dominic scoffed with ice-cold conviction. “Everything she thinks she owns is tied to my name.”
I pressed my lips into a tight line, my heart pounding violently against my ribs. He had forgotten the initial capital investment I had transferred from my late father’s estate into his holding firm. Or perhaps he simply assumed I had forgotten it.
“What about custody?” Vanessa pressed.
May you like
“I will receive emergency sole custody within forty-eight hours,” Dominic answered as casually as if discussing freight schedules. “Clare can have supervised visits once a month, provided she behaves herself.”
My baby shifted sharply beneath my ribs, a tiny kick that felt like a quiet battle cry against my spine.
