Chapter 4 - The Masquerade Begins
The Whitmore estate was a sprawling, neoclassical mansion in Belle Meade, surrounded by manicured lawns and high stone walls. When I pulled into the circular driveway that afternoon, Claire was standing on the veranda, wearing a designer cream-colored dress, talking frantically to a wedding coordinator.
"Rowan! Sweetie, where have you been?" she squealed, rushing down the steps and throwing her arms around my neck. She smelled of expensive French perfume—the same scent she had worn the day she helped throw Megan out of our home.
I forced every muscle in my body to relax. I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her cheek, channeling every ounce of corporate negotiation strategy I had ever used to deceive hostile takeovers.
"Sorry, corporate emergency," I lied smoothly, flashing a tired smile. "A minor audit issue with the logistics division. Had to spend the night at the downtown office."
Claire pulled back, her eyes narrowing slightly with that sharp, calculating look she always tried to hide beneath a bubbly persona. "An audit? On a Sunday night? You should have called me, darling. My father could have handled the regulators with a single phone call."
"It’s fine, it’s handled," I said, gently guiding her inside the grand foyer. "How are the wedding preparations coming?"
"Oh, perfect!" she beamed, clapping her hands. "The governor confirmed his attendance, and Vogue wants to cover the reception. Everything is exactly as it should be. Though, I must admit, I’m still annoyed about that white trash encounter on the road yesterday. Seeing your ex-wife like that... it was just so tacky. I hope she doesn't try to show up in town and embarrass us."
I stopped near the grand staircase, looking down at her. "Don't worry about Megan, Claire. She’s completely out of the picture. She has nothing. No one will ever believe a word she says."
"Exactly," Claire chuckled, her smile wide and victorious. "She’s a nobody, Rowan. You and I... we are the future of this city."
As she walked away to consult with the florist, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a encrypted message from Marcus Vance.
May you like
Found the financial link. Claire made a wire transfer of $250,000 to an offshore account linked to the director of Heavenly Blessings the morning after the triplets were born. The child was placed with a wealthy couple in Atlanta under a closed, expedited agreement. I have the address.
My breath caught. Atlanta. Just a four-hour drive away. Our third son was there.
