Chapter 3 - The Two Women Who Wanted Clover Gone
Vanessa Cole had worked for me for four years.
She knew my calendar better than I did.
She knew every flight I took, every meeting I attended, every hotel I stayed in, and every time Clover called my office.
Until that moment, I had never considered what that access could mean.
Vanessa stood several feet behind my mother in the hospital hallway.
Thirty-one years old.
Dark hair pulled into a perfect bun.
Gray business suit.
Tablet held against her chest.
She looked exactly as she always looked.
Efficient.
Calm.
Professional.
Except her eyes were fixed on my phone.
She knew.
I ended the call.
“Why are you here?”
My mother stepped forward.
“Adrian, I came as soon as Vanessa told me.”
Clover went rigid beside her.
I noticed immediately.
So did my mother.
Eleanor looked toward Clover.
“Congratulations.”
Clover’s face became expressionless.
“Don’t.”
My mother raised her eyebrows.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t stand there pretending you’re happy.”
The hallway fell silent.
A nurse at the desk glanced toward us.
I stepped between them.
“Mother, did you access my cloud account?”
Eleanor’s expression remained controlled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did you delete Clover’s calls?”
“Of course not.”
“Did you speak to her after she discovered she was pregnant?”
My mother looked at Clover.
Then back at me.
“I spoke with her many times during your marriage.”
“After the separation.”
Her jaw tightened.
“No.”
Clover stared at her.
“That’s a lie.”
Eleanor’s eyes sharpened.
“I understand you’ve been through an emotional morning—”
“Stop.”
My voice echoed louder than intended.
Everyone became still.
I lowered it.
“Do not patronize her.”
My mother’s face changed.
Not much.
But I saw it.
She wasn’t used to me speaking to her that way.
“Adrian.”
“Answer the question.”
She glanced toward Vanessa.
That tiny movement told me more than any confession.
I turned.
“Vanessa.”
She straightened.
“Yes?”
“Why did you purchase a prepaid phone seven months ago?”
All color left her face.
My mother closed her eyes briefly.
Clover looked between them.
Vanessa recovered quickly.
“I purchase temporary phones for international travel arrangements all the time.”
“Not personally.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I have the transaction.”
Her lips parted.
“Adrian, maybe this isn’t the place—”
“The phone was used to create a fake company email address.”
Vanessa didn’t answer.
My mother stepped forward.
“This conversation is ridiculous.”
“No.”
I turned toward her.
“This conversation is seven months overdue.”
A nurse approached us.
“Mr. Vance, please keep your voices down. The babies need a quiet environment.”
I nodded immediately.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Then I looked at my mother.
“Conference room. Downstairs.”
Eleanor lifted her chin.
“I don’t take orders from my son.”
“You do today.”
I walked away.
For several seconds, nobody followed.
Then I heard footsteps.
Clover stayed near the NICU.
I was relieved.
She didn’t need this.
The hospital provided us a small family consultation room on the second floor.
Grant arrived ten minutes later with my head of cybersecurity, Miles Chen.
My mother sat at one side of the table.
Vanessa beside her.
I stood.
Grant closed the door.
Miles opened his laptop.
I looked at Vanessa.
“One chance.”
She said nothing.
“Tell me what happened.”
Vanessa glanced at Eleanor.
My mother’s voice was calm.
“Do not answer questions framed as accusations.”
Grant leaned against the wall.
“Mrs. Vance, this isn’t court.”
“No,” she replied. “It’s worse. It’s my son behaving irrationally because his former wife has suddenly produced a baby.”
I saw red.
“That baby is your grandson.”
“If the child is yours.”
I stepped forward.
Grant caught my arm.
“Adrian.”
I stopped.
My mother looked almost satisfied.
Then Miles spoke.
“We have login records.”
Eleanor’s expression shifted.
Miles turned his laptop around.
“Mr. Vance’s private cloud account was accessed repeatedly from IP addresses assigned to the executive wing of Vance Development.”
My mother folded her hands.
“A shared network.”
“Normally, yes.”
Miles clicked another screen.
“But device identification narrows it down.”
A serial number appeared.
He looked at Eleanor.
“Your desktop.”
Silence.
My mother’s confidence cracked.
Barely.
But enough.
She said, “I occasionally helped Adrian manage family matters.”
“By deleting messages?”
“I don’t know what was deleted.”
Miles continued.
“We also recovered administrator activity affecting Mr. Vance’s phone backups.”
Vanessa’s breathing changed.
I turned toward her.
“You knew how to access them.”
She looked at the table.
“Vanessa.”
Nothing.
My mother spoke.
“She was doing what I asked.”
Everyone looked at Eleanor.
I froze.
“Say that again.”
My mother inhaled.
“I asked Vanessa to help manage some communications.”
“Clover’s communications?”
“Yes.”
The word landed like a gunshot.
Grant swore under his breath.
I stared at my mother.
“You deleted her calls.”
“I prevented unnecessary conflict.”
“She was pregnant.”
“I didn’t know at first.”
“And when you found out?”
My mother’s jaw tightened.
“I believed telling you would drag you back into a marriage that was already destroying you.”
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You decided that?”
“You weren’t yourself.”
“I loved my wife.”
“You were distracted by her.”
I slammed both hands on the table.
“She was my wife!”
My mother flinched.
I had never raised my voice at her.
Not once.
Eleanor recovered.
“You were negotiating the WestBridge expansion. Your father spent his life building the foundation for this company. You were weeks from closing the largest deal in our family’s history.”
“So you destroyed my marriage to protect a contract?”
“I protected your future.”
“My future is lying in an incubator upstairs!”
My voice cracked.
No one spoke.
I stepped back.
My hands were shaking.
Grant looked toward the floor.
Vanessa wiped tears from her eyes.
I turned toward her.
“And you?”
She whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I did what she asked.”
“Why?”
She closed her eyes.
Then said something that surprised me.
“Because she promised me your COO position.”
Grant’s head snapped up.
“What?”
Vanessa looked ashamed.
“She said once the WestBridge deal closed, Adrian would restructure senior management.”
Grant laughed without humor.
“That position doesn’t exist.”
Vanessa stared.
“What?”
“We never discussed a COO.”
She turned toward Eleanor.
My mother looked away.
Vanessa’s face changed from guilt to horror.
“You lied to me too.”
Eleanor remained silent.
Vanessa pushed back from the table.
“I risked everything.”
“You made your own choices,” my mother said coldly.
Vanessa stared at her.
Then something hardened inside her.
“You told me Clover was planning to take half the company.”
My mother didn’t answer.
“You told me she was seeing someone.”
Grant looked toward me.
Clover seeing someone had been one of the rumors that helped destroy my trust.
I stepped closer.
“What did she say?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“She said Clover had been meeting a divorce attorney and another man.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You sent me photographs.”
Her face dropped.
There.
Another piece.
During the final months of my marriage, I had received anonymous photographs showing Clover outside a hotel with an unfamiliar man.
I assumed infidelity.
I never confronted her.
Why?
Pride.
Cowardice.
Maybe both.
“Were those photos staged?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No. But I know who took them.”
“Who?”
“A private investigator your mother hired.”
I turned toward Eleanor.
She didn’t deny it.
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
“That phrase means nothing anymore.”
“She was meeting men behind your back.”
Clover’s voice came from the doorway.
“She was meeting my brother.”
Everyone turned.
Clover stood there.
Pale.
Hospital gown beneath a robe.
Her arms crossed.
“My younger brother, Matthew, flew in from Denver because our father had just died and I was falling apart.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Clover’s brother.
I had only met him twice.
He had grown a beard since the last time I saw him.
The photograph had been grainy.
My mother knew exactly who he was.
I looked at Eleanor.
“You knew.”
She didn’t answer.
Clover stepped inside.
“Tell him.”
Eleanor remained silent.
“Tell him you knew Matthew was my brother.”
My mother finally said, “I suspected.”
“You met him at our wedding.”
“That was years earlier.”
“You knew.”
Clover’s voice trembled.
“You wanted Adrian to think I was cheating.”
“I wanted him to see that your marriage was unstable.”
“No. You wanted me gone.”
Eleanor’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
The honesty stunned all of us.
Clover blinked.
My mother continued.
“I never believed you were right for him.”
“Because I wasn’t rich enough?”
“Because you made him weak.”
Clover stared at her.
My mother looked at me.
“Before you met her, you were focused.”
“I was lonely.”
“You were successful.”
“I was lonely.”
“You were building something.”
“And Clover gave me something worth going home to.”
For the first time, my mother looked wounded.
“You think I did this because I hate you?”
“I think you did it because you believe controlling me is love.”
Her lips tightened.
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“I’m a father now.”
The words changed the room.
I pointed upward.
“There is a three-pound baby upstairs. My son. And the first thing I have learned as his father is that loving your child does not mean deciding which parts of his life he is allowed to keep.”
My mother looked away.
I turned toward Vanessa.
“I want every password, every file, every email, every instruction Eleanor ever gave you.”
She nodded quickly.
“Okay.”
“Now.”
“Adrian,” my mother warned.
I ignored her.
Vanessa opened her tablet.
“There’s more.”
Everyone became still.
“What?”
She looked at Clover.
“I didn’t know about the pregnancy until later.”
Clover’s face tightened.
Vanessa continued.
“Mrs. Vance called me after you contacted her.”
My mother rose.
“That’s enough.”
Grant moved toward the door.
“Sit down.”
Eleanor glared at him.
He didn’t move.
Vanessa’s hands trembled.
“She told me to block Clover’s number from Adrian’s office lines.”
Clover closed her eyes.
“And?”
“To filter her emails.”
My stomach twisted.
“And?”
Vanessa started crying.
“She asked me to intercept anything mailed to the office.”
I remembered Clover saying she had sent a letter.
“What happened to it?”
Vanessa looked at Eleanor.
“She opened it.”
My mother said nothing.
“What was in the letter?” I asked.
Vanessa whispered, “An ultrasound.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
Clover covered her mouth.
I looked at my mother.
“You saw my son.”
She looked down.
“You saw the ultrasound.”
No answer.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
The word nearly destroyed me.
“You knew Clover was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“And you still kept it from me.”
My mother looked at me.
For once, there was emotion in her eyes.
“I thought if you saw that picture, you would go back.”
“You were right.”
She inhaled.
“I knew.”
Clover turned away.
I stepped toward my mother.
“You took seven months from me.”
“I believed I was protecting—”
“Seven months.”
My voice dropped.
“You took the pregnancy.”
Her face cracked.
“The appointments.”
I pointed toward the ceiling.
“The first heartbeat.”
My mother’s eyes filled.
“The first ultrasound.”
I swallowed.
“The moment Clover needed me most.”
Silence.
Then Clover spoke.
“There was another letter.”
We all turned.
My mother’s face changed instantly.
Clover noticed too.
“So you remember.”
I looked between them.
“What letter?”
Clover stared at Eleanor.
“The one I sent after your mother told me you wanted nothing to do with the baby.”
My heart pounded.
“What did it say?”
Clover’s eyes filled.
“I told you I was leaving Dallas.”
I froze.
“I said I wouldn’t contact you again.”
She paused.
“And I enclosed something.”
“What?”
Clover looked at my mother.
Eleanor whispered, “Clover…”
“What was it?” I demanded.
Clover answered.
“A copy of the prenatal DNA test.”
No one moved.
“I had it done because your mother said you questioned whether the baby was yours.”
My stomach turned.
Clover’s voice became softer.
“The result said Adrian was the father with greater than ninety-nine percent probability.”
I stared at Eleanor.
“You had proof.”
She nodded.
“And you still did this.”
My mother began to cry.
Quietly.
For the first time in my life, I felt nothing seeing her tears.
Then Vanessa spoke.
“There’s one more thing.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She unlocked a folder.
“Mrs. Vance wasn’t the only person receiving copies of Clover’s messages.”
My heart stopped.
“Who else?”
Vanessa turned the tablet toward me.
An email address appeared.
Grant stepped closer.
His face drained of color.
Because he recognized it before I did.
It belonged to the attorney who handled our divorce.
May you like
And according to the records, he hadn’t been working for Clover.
He had been working for someone else entirely.
