Chapter 4 - The House of Cards
While Gavin was being unceremoniously marched out of the corporate building by two burly security guards, holding a single cardboard box containing a few framed photos and personalized pens, Tessa was experiencing her own catastrophic morning. I had arranged for a private courier to deliver a very specific package to my grandmother’s house—the house Tessa was currently occupying under the delusion that she was its new mistress. My investigator, Elias, had tapped into the estate's security cameras, and I watched the footage later with a grim sense of satisfaction.
The video showed Tessa lounging in the sunroom, wearing one of my expensive silk robes that she had eagerly raided from my closet. The twins were asleep in their bassinets nearby, watched over by a highly-paid nanny. When the doorbell rang, Tessa answered it herself, expecting perhaps a belated anniversary gift or congratulations from Gavin's sycophantic friends. Instead, a process server handed her a thick manila envelope, much like the one Gavin had given me the night before.
Tessa tore it open, her brow furrowing in confusion. Inside were three documents. The first was a notice of immediate eviction. The property was owned by the Penhaligon Trust, and as Gavin was no longer legally permitted on the premises, Tessa was deemed an unlawful squatter. She was given exactly twenty-four hours to vacate. The second document was a civil lawsuit filed against her for grand larceny, emotional distress, and conspiracy to commit medical fraud.
But it was the third document that made Tessa drop her coffee cup, shattering porcelain and spilling hot liquid across the antique hardwood floor. It was the DNA report. The same report I had kept hidden. The cover letter, written bluntly by Arthur’s team, outlined the irrefutable biological truth: Claire was the mother. Gavin was not the father.
According to the nanny's later deposition, Tessa began to scream hysterically. She frantically tried to call Gavin, but his phone was already seized as corporate evidence. She then tried to use the black AMEX card Gavin had given her to book a luxury hotel suite, only to have the operator inform her that the account was frozen by a court order. The illusion of her grand, wealthy life evaporated in less than sixty seconds. She had traded her sister, her morality, and her body to marry a millionaire, only to discover she had tethered herself to a broke, sterile fraud who was about to face federal prison time.
Later that afternoon, I sat in the CEO’s chair, the leather still warm, looking out over the city. My phone buzzed on the desk. It was an unknown number, but I knew exactly who it was. I let it ring four times before answering.
“Claire, please,” Tessa’s voice was ragged, desperate, stripping away decades of her practiced arrogance. “You have to listen to me. He manipulated me. Gavin told me you hated children, that you were relieved the IVF failed. He said he was desperate for a family and that you had given your blessing for him to find a surrogate, but he wanted it kept quiet to protect your pride. I didn’t know he stole your embryos! I thought they were his and a donor egg!”
I closed my eyes, feeling a deep, agonizing sorrow beneath the anger. She was lying. She always lied when she was cornered. “Tessa, the clinic intake forms have your signature acknowledging the use of donor sperm because Gavin is sterile. You knew he wasn't the father. You knew exactly whose embryos those were. You saw the crescent birthmark on the little girl's neck.”
Silence hung heavy on the line. She was breathing hard, trapped in her own web. “Claire, I have the babies. They need me. I birthed them.”
“You were a host, Tessa. A host who was paid in stolen designer clothes and a fraudulent marriage proposal. You have twenty-four hours to leave my grandmother’s house. Leave the children with the nanny. If you attempt to take them across state lines, I will have you arrested for kidnapping.”
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“They are my family now!” she shrieked, the desperation turning venomous.
“You have no family,” I stated flatly. “You destroyed it last night. Pack your bags, Tessa. The police will be there tomorrow at 9:00 AM.” I hung up the phone, blocking the number. The house of cards had completely collapsed, but the hardest battle—bringing my children home—was just beginning.
