6. The Morning After

Claire's POV

Damien wasn't home, of course he wasn't.

I stepped inside anyway, but the apartment felt different. Larger somehow. Colder. The silence seemed to stretch endlessly through the empty rooms, and for the first time since discovering I was pregnant, fear settled heavily in my chest. It wasn't fear for myself, and it wasn't even fear of the divorce.

It was fear that I had waited too long.

I stood in the foyer for several moments without moving. Rainwater dripped from the hem of my coat onto the marble floor. My hair clung damply to my shoulders, and my shoes were soaked through.

Normally, Damien would have complained if I tracked water into the penthouse, not because he cared about the floor, but because he cared about routines.

He liked things where they belonged, he liked order, structure, and predictability.

For four years, I had fit neatly into that structure, but now, for the first time, I wasn't sure where I belonged anymore.

The realization followed me as I hung my coat in the closet and walked deeper into the apartment.

The lights were off, the living room was empty, and the kitchen was untouched. Every room carried the strange feeling of a place waiting for someone to return, a place waiting for him.

I looked at the clock.

9:47 p.m.

Damien had only been gone a little over an hour. There was no reason to panic, and no reason to assume the worst.

Tiffany had suddenly reappeared after four years. Naturally, there would be questions. Naturally, Damien would want answers.

That didn't automatically mean anything had changed. The problem was that my heart didn't seem interested in logic.

I wandered into the kitchen and placed my purse on the counter. The tiny white box containing the knitted baby booties remained tucked safely inside, and so did the ultrasound photograph.

The same photograph I should have shown Damien days ago, maybe weeks ago or maybe the moment I found out, but instead, I had waited, and waited, and waited. Always believing there would be a better time.

A perfect time, a moment when the words would somehow come easier, but now Tiffany was back, and suddenly every missed opportunity felt like a mistake.

I pulled the ultrasound image from my purse and stared at it.

The tiny grainy shape on the paper looked exactly the same as it had yesterday, exactly the same as it had an hour ago, yet everything around it felt different, more fragile as though the future I had allowed myself to imagine was slowly slipping away.

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach. "Your timing is terrible," I whispered softly.

The baby offered no opinion, probably for the best.

I had a feeling Olivia would have several, and the thought almost made me smile, almost. Instead, I tucked the photograph back into my purse and headed toward the bedroom.

The bed felt enormous it always did when Damien wasn't there.

I changed into pajamas and climbed beneath the blankets, and stared at the ceiling.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and then thirty but sleep never came because every time I closed my eyes, I saw Tiffany's name on Damien's phone and every time I tried to think about something else, I remembered the look on his face the shock, the confusion the concern and most of all, the concern.

That was the part I couldn't stop thinking about because Damien cared about very few people when he worried about someone, it meant something.

At midnight, I checked my phone but there were no messages.

At one o'clock, I checked again and still nothing.

By two o'clock, I had officially given up pretending I was going to sleep.

I left the bedroom and wandered into the living room. The city stretched beyond the windows in a sea of lights normally, I found comfort in the view but tonight it felt lonely.

I curled up on the sofa with a blanket and tried reading but five pages later, I realized I hadn't absorbed a single word.

My thoughts kept drifting back to Damien and Tiffany and back to the possibility that perhaps I had been lying to myself for years.

Maybe Damien had moved on from Tiffany or maybe he hadn't or maybe I had simply convinced myself that four years was enough time to erase a first love.

A sharp ache settled in my chest and I hated that phrase first love because no matter how much I tried not to compare myself to Tiffany, the comparison always existed.

She had been chosen first I hadn't.

The clock crept toward dawn and still no Damien still no call and still no message. Eventually exhaustion dragged me into an uneasy sleep.

The sound of my phone vibrating woke me and for a moment, I didn't know where I was but then reality returned all at once.

Damien.

My heart leapt as I reached for my phone and immediately sank it wasn't Damien it was Olivia.

I answered. "Please tell me you're calling because you won the lottery and want to share."

"Good morning to you too." Her cheerful voice felt painfully out of place.

I rubbed my eyes. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight."

I groaned. "That's not a real hour."

"It is if you're employed."

"I'm questioning that."

Olivia laughed but then her tone changed. "Have you seen the news?"

My stomach tightened instantly. "No."

There was a pause a very ominous pause. "Claire."

The way she said my name made me sit upright. "What happened?"

"I think you should look online."

Every muscle in my body tensed and without another word, I opened my browser. The first article appeared immediately and the headline hit me like a physical blow.

TIFFANY MORGAN RETURNS TO NEW YORK.

My pulse quickened as I clicked and photographs filled the screen with Tiffany outside the hotel. Tiffany arriving the previous evening and Tiffany smiling at reporters.

I scrolled and stopped. My breath caught.

Another photograph with a black SUV. Damien stepping out and the timestamp showed it had been taken less than an hour after he left me at the restaurant.

The image was grainy, but unmistakable Damien entering Tiffany's hotel.

For several seconds, I couldn't move couldn't think and couldn't breathe.

The article itself was mostly speculation reporters wondering whether old flames had reunited. Financial analysts discussing the possible impact on Laurent Group. Social media comments filled with excitement.

Nobody knew the truth and neither did I but staring at the photograph made one thing painfully clear while I had spent the night alone wondering whether my marriage was ending, Damien had been with Tiffany.

"Claire?" Olivia's voice came through the phone.

I had forgotten she was still there. "I'm here."

"Are you okay?"

The question was impossible to answer so I lied. "Of course."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Occupational hazard."

She sighed. "Do you want me to come over?"

For a brief moment, I considered saying yes but then I looked toward the front door and toward the empty hallway beyond. "No."

"You sure?"

"No."

Olivia laughed softly. "At least you're honest."

I smiled despite myself and ended the call a few minutes later.

The apartment seemed even quieter afterward I set my phone down and stared at the article again. At the photographs. At Tiffany's smile. At Damien walking into her hotel.

A knot formed in my stomach because for the first time, the fear I had been carrying since last night no longer felt irrational it felt real.

The morning stretched endlessly.

Nine o'clock became ten, ten became eleven and still no Damien.

I tried working but gailed and then I tried reading but also failed. I even attempted cleaning the kitchen simply because I needed something to do with my hands but nothing helped.

By noon, my nerves felt stretched thin and by one, I was pacing. By two, I had convinced myself that I no longer cared where Damien was. At two fifteen, I checked my phone again.

At four, I heard the front door open and every thought vanished instantly. My heart slammed against my ribs as I lowly turned toward the foyer.

Footsteps echoed through the apartment ahen Damien appeared and for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, he was finally home.