Chapter 5 - The House Bradley Tried to Steal
Two weeks later, I left St. Mary’s without my babies.
It was one of the hardest things I had ever done.
Noah and Grace were improving, but they needed more time in the NICU.
Dr. Kline stood beside my wheelchair.
“You can come back tomorrow morning.”
“I could stay.”
“You need to sleep.”
“I can sleep here.”
“You’ve barely slept in fourteen days.”
“I’m their mother.”
“And mothers require functioning organs.”
Dominic nodded.
“I like her.”
I glared at both of them.
“Traitors.”
Dr. Kline smiled.
“Go home.”
The word hurt.
Home.
Bradley had changed the locks.
At least, he thought he had.
When Dominic’s car pulled into the driveway, I stared at the brick house where I had spent four years building a life.
A locksmith was waiting.
So was my attorney.
Bradley had been legally ordered not to interfere with my access.
I stepped inside.
Half the furniture was gone.
So were several paintings.
The safe was empty.
My wedding photograph still sat on the mantel.
I picked it up.
Bradley was smiling.
So was I.
Dominic stood behind me.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
I looked at him.
“I thought you mafia people were supposed to say something profound.”
“I can arrange something.”
“Please don’t.”
I removed the photograph from the frame.
Then tore it once through the middle.
Dominic nodded.
“That works too.”
A voice came from the foyer.
“What are you doing in my house?”
Bradley.
My attorney immediately stepped forward.
“You were instructed not to come here while Ms. Mercer was present.”
Bradley ignored her.
He looked at Dominic.
“Of course.”
Dominic’s hands remained visible at his sides.
I knew he was making a point.
No threat.
No aggression.
Just presence.
Bradley looked at me.
“You brought him into our home.”
“My home.”
His face reddened.
“You think because your gangster father appeared, you can rewrite reality?”
“No.”
I held up the court order.
“The judge helped.”
Bradley laughed.
“You really want a public fight?”
“No.”
“I do.”
“Then enjoy it alone.”
He walked closer.
“Rachel, they froze my company accounts.”
“Because investigators found money you moved from mine.”
“You signed those documents.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You can’t prove that.”
My attorney spoke.
“We already have.”
Bradley’s eyes shifted toward her.
“What?”
“The hospital preserved the original power-of-attorney document. Forensic analysis identified the source of the copied signature.”
Bradley went pale.
I stared at him.
For the first time, he looked small.
Not physically.
Morally.
“You forged my name while I was carrying your children.”
He said nothing.
“Why?”
“I was desperate.”
“So was I.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I was under pressure.”
“I was bleeding in a hospital hallway with two babies in danger and seventeen dollars left in checking.”
He looked away.
I stepped closer.
“You always had a reason, Bradley.”
His jaw clenched.
“Don’t act like you were perfect.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You stopped supporting my career.”
“I stopped agreeing to mortgage everything for projects that kept failing.”
“You embarrassed me in front of investors.”
“I asked where our money was.”
“You became difficult.”
I stared at him.
There it was.
The entire marriage in two words.
I smiled sadly.
“Good.”
“What?”
“I became difficult.”
He frowned.
“I should have become difficult sooner.”
Bradley turned toward Dominic.
“This is what you wanted.”
Dominic’s voice remained calm.
“I wanted my daughter alive.”
“You don’t even know her.”
Dominic looked at me.
“No.”
Then back at Bradley.
“But I’m trying.”
Bradley laughed.
“Father of the year.”
Dominic accepted the insult without reacting.
“You’re right.”
Bradley clearly hadn’t expected that.
Dominic continued.
“I failed her for twenty-six years.”
I stared at him.
He looked directly at me.
“I can’t change that.”
Then he looked at Bradley.
“But you had her every day.”
His voice lowered.
“And you still chose to fail her.”
Bradley had no answer.
My attorney pointed toward the door.
“You need to leave.”
Bradley looked at me one last time.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“Once you do this, there’s no going back.”
I looked around the empty house.
At the missing furniture.
The torn wedding photograph.
The nursery he had never finished.
“I know.”
He left.
I locked the door behind him.
Dominic stood several feet away.
“Do you want to stay here?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“I want to sell it.”
“Okay.”
“And I don’t want one of your companies secretly buying it.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“I hadn’t considered that.”
“You’re lying.”
“I had briefly considered it.”
“Dominic.”
“Fine.”
I looked toward the unfinished nursery.
“I want somewhere smaller.”
“You have twins.”
“Fine. Medium.”
“With security.”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“No armed men standing in my kitchen.”
“Alarm system.”
“Yes.”
“Cameras outside.”
“Yes.”
“Driver.”
“No.”
He frowned.
“Negotiable.”
“No.”
“Occasional driver.”
“Dominic.”
“Fine.”
I smiled despite myself.
That evening, we returned to the NICU.
Noah had gained four ounces.
Grace had gained three.
The nurse smiled.
“If they continue like this, we can start discussing discharge planning soon.”
My heart jumped.
“How soon?”
“Weeks, not months.”
I looked at Dominic.
His eyes lit up.
He tried to hide it.
He failed.
I sat beside Grace’s incubator.
“Did you hear that?”
Dominic leaned closer.
“She’s coming home.”
“They both are.”
He nodded.
“They both are.”
And for the first time since Bradley’s text appeared on my phone, I believed I was going to have a future.
Not the future I had planned.
Something better.
May you like
One I actually chose.
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