Chapter 3 - The Ghost Returns
My breath caught in my throat.
Barnaby immediately stepped between me and the door, his posture shifting into an alert, protective stance. "Did he say his name?"
"Trued," Renlay said quietly, her hand resting on the nursery door handle. "He brought a bouquet of grocery-store flowers and a leather overnight bag."
Trued.
The man who had packed his car and driven three states away the moment I showed him the positive pregnancy test. The man who hadn't called during my pregnancy, hadn't shown up for their birth, and hadn't sent a single dollar or diaper when I was crushed in an intersection.
"Let me handle this," Barnaby said, stepping toward the door.
"No," I said, using my cane to push myself upright, my voice growing surprisingly firm. "I need to look at him myself."
I walked to the front door and pulled it open.
Trued stood in the hallway carpet, wearing a tailored denim jacket, his blond hair styled, holding a bouquet of wilted lilies. He looked exactly the same as he had eighteen months ago—handsome, polished, and utterly shallow.
"Sable," Trued said, offering a weak, practiced smile that had used to charm me when I was twenty-seven. "My God... look at you. I heard about the accident. I came as fast as I could."
"As fast as you could?" I asked, leaning on my cane, my tone dry enough to wither the flowers in his hand. "The accident was eleven weeks ago, Trued. You're a little late for the ambulance."
Trued flinched, glancing nervously at Barnaby, who stood two feet behind me, looking like a wall of solid brick.
"I know I made mistakes, Sable," Trued said, lowering his voice into a dramatic, sorrowful pitch. "When you told me about the babies, I panicked. I was young, I wasn't ready to be a father. But I've changed. I've been in therapy in Ohio. I realized that my place is here, with my family."
"Your family?" I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "You don't have a family here, Trued. You have two children whose names you don't even know."
"Rowena and Beckett," Trued said quickly, as if he had memorized a script. "I know their names, Sable. I want to meet them. I want to hold my son and daughter."
He tried to take a step past the threshold, but Barnaby placed a single, heavy hand flat against the doorframe, blocking him completely.
"You don't step another inch into this apartment," Barnaby said calmly, his tone laced with absolute authority.
Trued sneered at Barnaby. "Who the hell are you? Her new boyfriend? This is between me and the mother of my kids."
"No, Trued," I said, stepping right up to the doorframe. "This is between me and the coward who abandoned his children. Why are you really here? You haven't sent a single text in over a year. Who told you about the accident?"
Trued’s eyes darted away for a fraction of a second—a tell I remembered all too well from our year of dating whenever he was caught in a lie.
"Nobody told me," Trued claimed hastily. "I just... I looked you up online and saw a news article about the delivery truck crash."
"The news article didn't list my home address," I countered instantly. "And it didn't mention the babies' names, because they weren't named in the police report."
Trued swallowed hard, his throat moving nervously against his collar.
"My mother called you, didn't she?" I asked, the final piece of the ugly puzzle falling into place. "Finanella called you."
Trued let out a long, defeated sigh, dropping the lilies onto the hallway floor. "Look, Sable... your mother contacted me three days ago. She said you were struggling, that your mind was altered from trauma medication, and that a group of predators was trying to steal my kids' settlement money. She said if I came back now and asserted my paternal rights, we could file for joint custody and secure the trust fund for the babies!"
I stared at him, sickening horror washing over me anew.
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Finanella hadn't given up when Sandra Vance was fired.
She had tracked down the man who abandoned my babies, fed him lies about my mental stability, and offered him a piece of the $1.4 million settlement if he helped her strip me of legal custody.
