Chapter 4 - The Maiden Name
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I pulled back, staring at my father in confusion. "What are you talking about, Dad? You know why?"
Before Isaiah could answer, a nurse poked her head out of the nearby recovery room. "Mr. Sloane? Your wife is awake. She’s asking for you."
Everything else faded into background noise. I abandoned my father in the hallway and sprinted down to the private recovery wing where Claire had been transferred under police guard.
The room was quiet, lit only by the soft blue glow of heart monitors. Claire looked impossibly small in the middle of the large hospital bed, IV lines running into both of her wrists. But when I stepped into the room, her dark eyes found mine immediately.
"Mason," she rasped, her voice thin and dry.
I rushed to her side, dropping to my knees beside the bed and taking her cool hand in mine. "I'm right here, baby. I'm right here. Don't try to talk too much."
"The babies..." she whispered, her fingers tightening around mine with surprising strength. "Are they..."
"They're perfect, Claire," I sobbed, unable to hold back my tears any longer. "All three of them. Noah, Elliot, and Grace. They're healthy, safe, and waiting for you."
A tear slipped down her pale cheek, but a faint, heroic smile touched her lips. "You double-checked?"
"I counted their fingers and toes twice," I managed a watery laugh.
Claire closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a ragged sigh of relief. Then, her expression shifted. The softness evaporated, replaced by a quiet, lingering terror.
"Mason... the woman who brought the tea," Claire murmured, opening her eyes.
I straightened up, every muscle in my body locking into place. "What about her?"
"She wasn't hospital staff," Claire whispered. "When she put the tray down, she looked right at me. She didn't call me Mrs. Sloane."
"What did she call you?"
"She asked, 'Are you Claire Dawson?'"
My chest went cold. Dawson was Claire’s maiden name. She hadn't used that name in over twelve years—not since the day we got married in a small justice of the peace office in downtown Atlanta.
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"Did she say anything else?" I asked, leaning closer.
"She smiled," Claire said, a shudder running through her body. "She said, 'Some debts don't expire just because you change your last name.' Then she walked out."
