Chapter 4 - The Ghost from the Past
By Friday, Claire’s life had upended itself in ways she never could have imagined.
She had signed the contract. The electrical bill was paid in full, three months of back rent had been cleared, and she had spent her first afternoon as Director of Customer Experience setting up her home office with equipment provided by Cole Global Solutions.
Sophie was sleeping peacefully in her crib. Claire was sitting at her new mahogany desk, reviewing customer retention metrics, when a sharp, loud pounding echoed from her front door.
Claire frowned. Delivery drivers usually knocked once.
She walked down the narrow hallway and opened the door.
The words died in her throat.
Standing on the doormat was a tall man with tousled brown hair, wearing a leather jacket and a familiar, sheepish grin. He looked older, heavier around the jawline, but there was no mistaking the sharp green eyes.
Marcus.
The man who had promised to stay, promised to help pay for prenatal care, and then vanished the exact afternoon Claire told him the obstetrician’s tests confirmed she was having a girl.
“Claire,” Marcus breathed, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Hey. Wow. It’s… it’s been a long time.”
Claire gripped the edge of the doorframe so hard her knuckles turned white. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to slam the door in his face.
“What are you doing here, Marcus?” she asked, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy whisper.
“I heard through mutual friends… well, through your mom, actually. I called her up last week to check in,” Marcus stammered, holding up his hands defensively. “She told me you had a baby. A little girl. Sophie.”
“You haven’t spoken to my mother in two years,” Claire spat. “And you haven’t spoken to me since you packed your duffel bag and told me you weren't ready to be a father because your band was cutting a record in Nashville.”
“The record deal fell through, okay?” Marcus said, stepping closer, his voice laced with manufactured remorse. “I’ve spent the last year doing some soul-searching, Claire. I’ve grown up. I realized what I walked away from was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Spare me the country-song monologue,” Claire said, her anger boiling over. “Where were you when I was sitting in the NICU alone for six weeks? Where were you when I couldn't afford groceries? Where were you three nights ago when my baby was screaming from hunger and I had three dollars in my bank account?”
Marcus blinked, looking momentarily stunned. “Wait, what? You were broke? Why didn't you call me?”
“Call you? On what number, Marcus? The one that went straight to voicemail for eighteen months? Or the one where some woman answered and told me never to call back?”
“That was… that was a mistake,” Marcus mumbled, looking away. Then his expression shifted, a sudden calculation crossing his eyes as he looked past Claire into the brightly lit apartment. “Anyway, that’s in the past. What matters now is family. I’m back in Indianapolis for good. I got a real job, I’m getting my life together, and I want to be a dad to my daughter.”
Claire let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “You want to be a dad? Now that she’s out of diapers, sleeping through the night, and doesn't require emergency medical intervention? How convenient.”
“I have rights, Claire,” Marcus’s tone hardened, the polished remorse slipping to reveal the entitled, selfish boy underneath. “I’m her biological father. I can go to court. I can file for joint custody. Don't make this harder than it has to be.”
Claire’s breath hitched. Court?
Before she could answer, a heavy, quiet voice spoke from the hallway behind Marcus.
“I wouldn't recommend that.”
Marcus jumped, spinning around. Ethan Cole stood near the top of the stairwell. He wore a simple black turtleneck and dark jeans, but his presence dominated the narrow apartment hallway like a physical force. He had apparently arrived to drop off some paperwork regarding Claire’s health insurance transition.
“Who the hell are you?” Marcus demanded, puffing out his chest.
“I’m the person who will fund the legal team that ensures you never see a single minute of unsupervised custody if you ever step foot near this door again,” Ethan said calmly, stepping closer until he towered over Marcus by two inches.
May you like
Marcus looked from Ethan’s expensive clothes to Claire, a ugly sneer spreading across his face. “Ah. I see. So that’s how you’ve been paying your bills. Took you all of three seconds to find a rich sugar daddy, didn't it, Claire?”
Before Marcus could finish the sentence, Ethan’s fist connected squarely with his jaw.
