Part6: My Husband Thought I Couldn’t Understand German—Until I Discovered He Had Stolen My Baby

PART6

No spouse, current or future, shall have authority to transfer, encumber, sell, or otherwise dispose of the property without the sole written consent of Claire Bennett.

I stared at the sentence.

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Because you never needed to.”

Daniel tapped the page.

“And there’s more.”

He turned to another page.

My father had established a separate investment account.

An account that would become fully accessible to me on my fortieth birthday.

I was thirty-nine.

My birthday was three months away.

I looked at Daniel.

“How much is in it?”

He paused.

“Approximately $3.8 million.”

I couldn’t speak.

I had known my father was comfortable.

I hadn’t known about this.

My father had deliberately kept it separate.

Probably because he knew exactly what kind of people surrounded me.

Then I remembered something.

My father’s funeral.

Julian had stood beside me.

He had cried.

He had held my hand.

And that same night, he had asked me whether my father had left me anything.

I had told him I didn’t know.

He had kissed my forehead.

“Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

I closed my eyes.

He hadn’t been comforting me.

He had been fishing.

That afternoon, Daniel discovered something even worse.

Julian had opened a line of credit against a commercial property connected to the trust.

Without my permission.

He had also attempted to transfer money from one investment account to another.

The transaction had failed.

But the attempt was recorded.

“Why would he need money?” I asked.

Daniel looked at me.

“Sophie.”

I frowned.

“You think he’s paying her?”

“Maybe.”

“But why would he need millions?”

Daniel’s expression darkened.

“Because I don’t think this is just about a baby.”

He pushed another document toward me.

A bank transfer.

Several large payments.

All going to a company called Larsen Family Holdings LLC.

I recognized the name.

“Who owns this?”

Daniel looked at me.

“Sophie.”

My heart sank.

“How much?”

“Over the last eighteen months?”

He paused.

“Nearly $600,000.”

I stared at the number.

Six hundred thousand dollars.

While Julian had told me we needed to cut back.

While he had told me the fertility treatments were expensive.

While he had asked me to stop ordering takeout.

While he had told me we couldn’t afford to renovate the kitchen.

He had been sending Sophie hundreds of thousands of dollars.

I laughed.

It wasn’t a happy laugh.

It was the kind that comes when reality becomes too absurd to process.

“He told me we couldn’t afford a vacation.”

Daniel didn’t smile.

“I know.”

“He told me we needed to save for retirement.”

“I know.”

“He told me my fertility treatments were putting us under financial pressure.”

Daniel looked down.

“Claire…”

I swallowed.

“I paid half of those treatments myself.”

“I know.”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“You don’t understand.”

I stood.

“I paid half because I believed he was making sacrifices too.”

My voice cracked.

“He wasn’t.”

Daniel said nothing.

I wiped my eyes.

Then I sat back down.

“What does Sophie know?”

“We need to find out.”

That evening, Julian came home at 9:38.

He looked exhausted.

Or pretended to.

“Long day,” he said.

I smiled.

“I made dinner.”

He looked surprised.

“You did?”

“Of course.”

He kissed me.

I forced myself not to recoil.

Dinner was quiet.

Halfway through the meal, Julian put down his fork.

“Claire.”

“Yes?”

“I think we should talk.”

I waited.

He took a breath.

“There have been some complications.”

I looked at him.

“With Sophie?”

His fork stopped moving.

I kept my face calm.

“What?”

“You said Sophie.”

I smiled.

“You were talking about her.”

He stared at me.

For the first time, the mask slipped.

“You know?”

I didn’t answer.

His face went pale.

“How long?”

I took a sip of water.

“Long enough.”

He stood abruptly.

“You’ve been spying on me.”

“No.”

“You’ve been going through my things.”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

I looked at him.

“I understand German.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

His mouth opened slightly.

“You…”

“Yes.”

“You’ve understood us all this time?”

“Not all this time.”

I smiled sadly.

“But long enough.”

He sat down.

I watched him.

“Tell me about Sophie.”

He looked at the table.

“Claire, I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“She was in a difficult situation.”

“Pregnant with your child?”

He closed his eyes.

“Yes.”

I nodded.

“Five months?”

“Yes.”

“While you were telling me to keep trying?”

He said nothing.

I felt something inside me break.

Not because I didn’t know.

Because hearing him admit it made everything real.

“You knew I was taking those medications.”

“I know.”

“You knew how much they hurt me.”

“I know.”

“You knew I wanted a child more than anything.”

“I know.”

“And you still did it.”

His eyes filled with tears.

“Claire, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

I laughed bitterly.

“How was it supposed to happen?”

He didn’t answer.

I stood.

“Tell me.”

He looked at me.

“My mother had a plan.”

I froze.

“Your mother?”

“Yes.”

“What plan?”

He rubbed his forehead.

“She knew about Sophie.”

“And?”

“She wanted Sophie to have the baby.”

I stared at him.

“Obviously.”

“She also knew you couldn’t have children.”

My heart clenched.

“You mean she knew about our failed treatments?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

He looked away.

I suddenly understood.

“She knew because you told her.”

Julian didn’t respond.

“You told your mother about my medical records.”

“I was desperate.”

“For what?”

He stood.

“To have a child.”

I stared at him.

“So you found another woman.”

“No.”

“Your mother did?”

He didn’t answer.

I walked closer.

“Did you love Sophie?”

“No.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

He closed his eyes.

“Yes.”

I nodded.

“Then what am I supposed to call that?”

He whispered, “A mistake.”

“A mistake that lasted eighteen months?”

Silence.

I felt tears burning my eyes.

“Why did you marry me?”

His face crumpled.

“I loved you.”

“Past tense?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

He didn’t answer.

I asked again.

“Why did you marry me?”

Finally, he whispered:

“Because my family wanted your father’s money.”

The room seemed to tilt.

I stared at him.

“What?”

He looked horrified.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.”

“No.”

“You just said it.”

“I was angry.”

“You were honest.”

He reached for me.

I stepped back.

“Don’t touch me.”

He stopped.

I looked at him.

“My father knew.”

Julian’s expression changed.

“What?”

“My father knew what your family wanted.”

He went pale.

I continued.

“He knew.”

“Claire…”

“He knew before our wedding.”

Julian stared at me.

“How?”

I smiled.

“My father kept records.”

Then I walked away.

That night, I slept in the guest room.

At 2:14 a.m., my phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

I stared at it.

Then I answered.

“Hello?”

A woman’s voice whispered:

“Claire?”

I sat upright.

“Sophie?”

“Yes.”