Chapter 2 : The Secret I Kept

Claire:

I stayed in the city for two full weeks after that morning at his building, calling his manager's office every single morning and leaving messages with his assistant, but nobody ever returned my calls.

"He's in training camp right now, Miss Bennett," his assistant said when I finally managed to get through on the office phone on a Tuesday afternoon. "Mr. Black is focusing entirely on the upcoming season, and he explicitly asked us not to forward any personal calls to his line."

"Can you just tell him I need ten minutes to speak with him?" I asked, sitting on the edge of my bed while holding my phone against my ear. "It's not about his hockey career or his money, it's about something personal that he really needs to know."

"I'm sorry, but he gave us a strict list of people he wants to talk to, and your name is not on that list," she said before hanging up the phone, leaving me listening to the dial tone.

That night, I turned on the television in my living room and saw Damon on the news, standing next to his coach as he signed a five-year contract extension worth millions of dollars. He was smiling at the cameras, talking about how excited he was to start this next chapter of his life without a single care in the world, while my own life had come to a complete standstill.

I turned off the screen, packed my clothes into two bags, and moved to a small apartment on the other side of town, deciding right then that I was done chasing a man who had erased me so easily.

Nine months later, I lay in the hospital room holding a baby girl with a full head of dark hair and deep eyes that looked just like his, and as I rocked her against my chest, the tears started streaming down my face.

"She looks just like you, Claire," my friend Sarah said, standing next to the bed and handing me a clean blanket from the chair. "Have you decided on a name for her yet?"

"Her name is Emma," I said, holding my daughter close as she opened her little eyes and looked up at me. "And she is going to have everything she needs, because I am never going to let her feel like she isn't wanted by anyone in this world."

The next few years went by in a blur of late nights and early mornings, with Emma learning to crawl across the living room carpet and then taking her very first steps toward me on a Sunday afternoon while I cheered for her.

When she turned three, she started pointing at the sports channels whenever hockey games came on the screen, and one evening, she sat on the floor with her small hands pressed against the glass while Damon's face filled the screen during a post-game interview.

"Mommy, who is that man with the big shirt?" Emma asked, pointing her finger right at Damon's jersey as he talked to the reporter about his team's latest win.

"That's just a player on television, sweetie," I said, quickly grabbing the remote control from the table and changing the channel to a cartoon show. "Let's watch your favorite movie instead, because it's almost time for your bedtime story."

"Does he have a little girl like me?" she asked, leaning her head against my knee while the cartoon music played in the background.

"I don't know, Emma," I replied, smoothing her hair back with my hand as I looked away from the television set. "Now go put your toys back in the box so we can read your book before bed."

By the time Emma turned five, she was full of endless questions about everything around her, especially whenever she saw other children at the park playing with their fathers on the swings.

"Mommy, why don't I have a daddy like the other kids at school?" she asked one afternoon while we were sitting together at the kitchen table eating lunch. "Did my daddy not want to live with us?"

"Your daddy lives far away, Emma, and he has a very busy job," I said, holding her small hand in mine across the table while trying to keep my voice completely steady. "But you have me, and I love you more than anything in the whole world, okay?"

"Okay," she said with a small smile, taking another bite of her sandwich and immediately forgetting about the question as she started talking about her drawings from school.

Later that same evening, after I had tucked Emma into bed and walked back out into the living room, my phone started ringing on the kitchen counter, showing my grandfather's number on the screen.

"Claire, I need you to listen to me very carefully," my grandfather said the moment I answered the phone, his voice sounding older and more tired than I had ever heard it before. "The family company is in serious financial trouble, and if we don't fix this by the end of the month, the bank is going to take over everything we own."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, sitting down on the couch as my heart began to beat faster. "I thought the business was doing well, so how could we be losing everything all of a sudden?"

"Your uncle made some terrible investments behind my back, and now we owe tens of millions to creditors who are threatening to file for bankruptcy tomorrow morning," he explained, stopping to take a heavy breath over the phone. "There is only one way out of this disaster, Claire, and I have spent the last three days negotiating with a powerful family that is willing to clear all of our debts."

"What kind of agreement?" I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach because I knew my grandfather never asked for help unless he was completely cornered. "What do they want from us in return for paying off the debts?"

"They want a marriage alliance between our families to merge our market interests," my grandfather said, his voice dropping low as he spoke into the receiver. "The contract is already drafted, and if you agree to marry their son, they will sign the papers and transfer the funds to save our company tonight."

I held the phone closer to my ear, looking toward the hallway where my daughter was sleeping peacefully in her bedroom, knowing that I couldn't let my mother's family lose everything they had worked for.

"Who am I supposed to marry?" I asked quietly.

My grandfather paused for a second before answering.

"Damon Black."