Chapter 3 - The Woman Behind the Lie
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Josephine held Elias against her chest while Noah clung to the fabric of her cardigan.
Felicity stood ten feet away with two attorneys.
I stood between them.
“What did you just say?” I asked.
Felicity gave me the same patient smile she'd used whenever she thought I was being unreasonable.
“Don't make this dramatic.”
“You said you're filing for custody.”
“Not me personally.”
She gestured toward the attorney.
“You.”
I stared at her.
She continued calmly.
“You're their biological father. Josephine is living in a shelter, collecting cans for money, and clearly incapable of providing the standard of life those children deserve.”
Josephine flinched.
I felt something inside me ignite.
“You don't get to talk about what they deserve.”
Felicity's smile disappeared.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
One attorney stepped forward.
“Mr. Carter, perhaps we should discuss this privately.”
“No.”
“Bennett,” Felicity warned.
I turned toward her.
“Why did you remove my name from Josephine's hospital records?”
Silence.
The attorneys exchanged glances.
Felicity's expression barely changed.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Why did you pay Rebecca Collins?”
Now she changed.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But I saw it.
“Who's Rebecca?”
“You know exactly who she is.”
Josephine stared between us.
I pulled out my phone.
“I know about the fake hotel photographs. I know about the shell companies. I know about my mother's necklace.”
Felicity's face became still.
One attorney whispered something to her.
She ignored him.
Then she looked at me and laughed softly.
“You've always been dramatic when you're emotional.”
The sentence was so familiar.
She had used it throughout our relationship.
Whenever I questioned her.
Whenever something felt wrong.
She turned doubt into weakness.
But not this time.
“Leave,” I said.
Her eyebrows rose.
“What?”
“Leave Josephine alone.”
“Bennett—”
“If you come near her or the twins again without legal cause, I'll make sure every document Winston found goes to the police.”
Now her eyes hardened.
There.
Finally.
The real woman.
“You think she's going to take you back?”
I didn't answer.
Felicity stepped closer.
“She won't.”
“This isn't about that.”
“Of course it is.”
She lowered her voice.
“You found two babies who resemble you, and suddenly you're pretending to be some heroic father.”
Each word landed because part of it was true.
I hadn't been there.
I didn't deserve to call myself their father yet.
But Felicity had mistaken guilt for weakness.
I stepped closer.
“I may not deserve them.”
She smiled.
“Glad we agree.”
“But you will never use that against Josephine.”
Her smile vanished.
The attorneys persuaded Felicity to leave.
Before getting into the SUV, she looked at me.
“You should ask Josephine why she never came to your house herself.”
I frowned.
“What?”
Felicity smiled again.
“Ask her.”
Then she drove away.
I turned toward Josephine.
She had gone pale.
“What did she mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Josephine.”
“I said nothing.”
She walked toward the shelter.
I followed but kept my distance.
“Did you come to the house?”
She stopped.
Her shoulders shook once.
Then she turned.
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Three weeks before the twins were born.”
I couldn't speak.
“You were home.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I would remember.”
“You didn't see me.”
“What happened?”
She looked toward the children.
Then back at me.
“I stood outside the gate for almost an hour.”
Our home at the time had a long gated driveway.
Security cameras.
An intercom.
“Why didn't you call?”
“I did.”
I already knew the answer.
Blocked.
“I pressed the intercom.”
My throat tightened.
“Who answered?”
She didn't need to say it.
Felicity.
“She told me you wanted me gone.”
“No.”
“She said you'd seen my emails and refused to respond.”
“No.”
“She knew I was pregnant.”
I closed my eyes.
“She told you?”
Josephine gave a broken laugh.
“She told me you already knew.”
My chest constricted.
“What exactly did she say?”
Josephine hesitated.
Then repeated the words.
“Bennett knows about the babies. He doesn't want them.”
I felt physically ill.
“No.”
“She said you were inside.”
“I might have been.”
“You were.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw you through the upstairs window.”
I remembered that house.
My study overlooked the driveway.
I had probably walked past the window without realizing my pregnant wife was standing beyond the gate.
Josephine wiped her cheek.
“I thought you saw me.”
I shook my head.
“No. God, Josephine, no.”
“She told me to stop humiliating myself.”
I couldn't breathe.
“And you believed her?”
Josephine looked at me with a sadness I deserved.
“I had spent months begging you to believe me.”
That ended the conversation.
There was nothing I could say.
I returned home alone.
Felicity was gone.
Her clothes remained.
But her personal documents had vanished.
So had her laptop.
I called Winston.
“She knows.”
“I figured she would.”
“How?”
“Someone may have tipped her off.”
“Rebecca?”
“No. She's cooperating.”
“Then who?”
“I don't know yet.”
That evening, Winston came to my house.
We converted my dining table into an investigation board.
Bank records.
Phone logs.
Photographs.
Payments.
Every piece pointed toward Felicity.
But motive remained unclear.
“Why?” I asked.
Winston leaned back.
“Money is usually simple.”
“She had money.”
“Her family had money.”
“What's the difference?”
“Her father controlled it.”
I looked at him.
Winston slid over a financial report.
Felicity's father, Conrad Danforth, owned a regional investment firm.
Felicity had access to wealth but limited personal assets.
Then, approximately eighteen months earlier, Conrad changed his will.
“Why does that matter?”
“Because Felicity was removed from primary inheritance.”
I frowned.
“Who replaced her?”
“Her brother.”
“That still doesn't explain Josephine.”
“No.”
Winston pointed toward another document.
“But this might.”
It was a proposed merger agreement.
Danforth Strategic Holdings.
Carter Development Group.
My company.
I remembered.
Conrad had approached me two years earlier about combining several real-estate projects.
I'd declined.
A merger would have given the Danforth family partial control over assets worth more than $80 million.
“Felicity knew about this?”
“She was copied on internal discussions.”
I sat back.
Winston continued.
“If she married you…”
“She gains influence.”
“And potentially access.”
I shook my head.
“That sounds too calculated.”
Winston raised an eyebrow.
“So does paying someone to frame your wife.”
Point taken.
Then his phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Rebecca sent something.”
He opened the message.
It was an audio file.
We played it.
Rebecca's nervous voice came first.
“I don't want to do this anymore.”
Then Felicity.
Cold.
Controlled.
“You've already done it.”
“What if Bennett finds out?”
“He won't.”
“And Josephine?”
“She has no money. No lawyer. No one will believe her.”
My fists clenched.
Rebecca whispered, “She's pregnant.”
Silence.
Then Felicity laughed.
“So?”
My skin went cold.
Rebecca continued.
“They're Bennett's babies.”
“I know.”
My heart stopped.
Felicity had known.
Before I did.
Rebecca asked, “What are you going to do?”
Felicity's answer came clearly through the speaker.
“Make sure he never sees them.”
The recording ended.
I sat motionless.
Winston looked at me.
“We have enough to go to law enforcement.”
“Do it.”
But the next morning, Josephine disappeared.
The shelter manager called me at 6:40.
“She left during the night.”
“With the twins?”
“Yes.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No.”
I called her.
Disconnected.
I drove to the shelter.
Her room was empty.
Only one thing remained.
A folded piece of paper on the bed.
My name was written on it.
Bennett.
I opened it.
The message contained only three sentences.
I’m sorry.
I can't let her use the boys to hurt you again.
Please don't look for us.
I stared at the letter.
Then Winston called.
“Bennett.”
“What?”
“We have another problem.”
“What now?”
“Felicity filed a report.”
My grip tightened.
“What kind?”
“She claims Josephine kidnapped your children.”
I closed my eyes.
“They're Josephine's children.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“But she's telling authorities you asked her to help recover them.”
My eyes opened.
“What?”
“She has documents with your signature.”
“I didn't sign anything.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Forgery.”
I looked at the empty shelter room.
Felicity had spent a year manipulating reality.
Now she was doing it again.
Only this time, the stakes were my sons.
“Find Josephine before Felicity does.”
Winston was silent.
Then he said, “I'm trying.”
“How long?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at the crumpled blankets where Elias and Noah had slept.
Yesterday, I had finally stood close enough to hear my children breathe.
Today, they were gone.
And somewhere in Springfield, Felicity was rewriting the story one more time.
But this time, I wasn't going to believe her.
May you like
This time, I was going to expose her.
Even if it cost me everything.
