The Rejected Wife: Chapter 58

‘You stowed away in the back of the gardener’s van and crept out and hid yourself in the shed when he wasn’t looking?’

She got past Quentin’s security team? That’s no small feat. This woman is more desperate than I realized. And Quentin needs to fire his entire security staff for letting it happen.

I rub at my temple trying to take in what she’s told me. My fingers come away streaked with color. The same color which is also smudged on my wife’s features, and on my clothes and hers. I love that it connects the two of us. I’m proud that it shows what we were up to before we were interrupted.

Cilla is seated next to me on the settee in my office. I weave my fingers through hers, knowing the paint from my fingers is going to stain her hand, but needing the contact.

The intruder who broke in and scared my daughter—again—is seated in the chair across from us. I can’t bring myself to think of her as the woman who carried my daughter to term. But it’s an unshakeable fact; something my wife has already recognized. It means, there will always be a link between her and Serene. One I might want to forget but can never erase.

I called Summer to stay with Serene. Then asked Connor and Brody, to act as backup security while Cilla and I deal with Lauren.

‘Add breaking and entering to your list of misdemeanors. Combined with your having broken the restraining order, it’s enough to put you away behind bars for a long time.’

She pales. Despite the early spring chill in the air outside, she’s also sweating. She locks her fingers together and hunches her shoulders. ‘I’m truly sorry.’ She swallows. ‘I know I shouldn’t have come, but…I couldn’t keep away. It’s been hell since I saw Serene hurt herself and fall into the pool. And I never got to see her afterward.’

‘She’s fine.’ I snap. ‘She doesn’t need you. She has her parents.’

Cilla squeezes my hand, and I bite back the rest of the words threatening to spill out. On some level, I’m aware it’s not right for me to feel this level of animosity toward someone else. But I can’t forget that it’s because of this woman that my child has been hurt, repeatedly.

Anger squeezes my chest. My every protective instinct is on alert. I feel like I want to hide my child away in a place where the likes of Lauren can never hurt her. But the mature part of me, the person I’ve become since meeting my wife, knows better.

I’m doing Serene a disservice by shielding her from her history—one she’s going to have to come to terms with, at some point.

If only I could go back in time and fix things so Serene would have had a more ordinary start in life. Every fatherly instinct in me wishes I could wipe the slate clean and have Serene be born as our child, with Cilla carrying her to birth. But that’s not going to happen. ‘What if’ won’t change anything. ‘What’s next’ will. A quote Cilla shared with me—and it couldn’t be more fitting now.

Meanwhile, I’m going to do everything in my power to protect Serene and shield her from the events that led to her birth.

‘I wanted to…make sure for myself.’ Lauren dips her chin. ‘It’s not about your ability to take care of her. It’s clear, the two of you love her and will do anything for her. Serene is lucky to have both of you. But then, I always knew you would be a good father. It’s just’—she raises a hand—’there was this physical need in me to see her. That’s all. I couldn’t stop myself. I thought, I’d go mad if I couldn’t see her and tell her I’m sorry.’

‘You said you knew I’d be a good father. What do you mean by that?’ I demand.

She flushes. The color stands out on her face in blotchy patches, making her look worse than before. ‘I, uh, researched you online.”

I stiffen. Was she planning to blackmail me?

She must notice my expression, for she holds up her hands. “I merely wanted to make sure you were the right person to leave my daughter with. Everything I found out about you confirmed that.”

“Oh?”

She nods. “You are from a well-known family, so you have the pedigree. You’re a former Marine, honorably discharged, so I knew you wouldn’t shy away from your responsibilities. And you are a CEO, so you’re financially well-off.” She shuffles her feet. “Everything confirmed to me that my daughter would be better off with you.’

‘One thing I don’t understand—’ My wife leans forward. ‘You had—still have—money. You have resources. You could afford the fertility treatments and employing the PI. And the resort we were in isn’t cheap. So, you had the means to take care of her. Why didn’t you?’

Lauren seems taken aback by the question. ‘You mean, why did I choose to drop her off, in the first place?’ she asks in what I recognize as a tactic to buy herself time.

My wife nods. ‘Why did you do that? Surely, you had the resources to find help?’

Lauren shifts in her seat, then lets out a shaky breath.

‘I wanted to be a mother. I wanted it for so long. But when I held Serene…I froze. I didn’t know how to take care of her. I still don’t. I had no one. No family, no friends. No one to help me.’ She swallows hard. ‘That’s why I’d never try to take her from you. I can’t. I’m not a threat. I never was.’

She laughs. The sound is brittle enough to break.

‘All I’m asking is to be able to see Serene and apologize to her for everything. I want to tell her how sorry I am for my actions, which have only hurt her, every step of the way.’

Cilla lowers her chin. ‘I want to tell you that you can⁠—”

I whip my head in her direction and am about to protest, when she smiles at me and pulls my hand into her lap. ‘But in this, I have to defer to Serene’s therapist. According to her, Serene’s been through a lot. It’s best to wait until she’s older and mature enough to understand the circumstances surrounding her birth before she meets you.”

Lauren’s features crumple.

My wife blinks away her own tears. ‘This is not easy for me either. As a mother, I understand what you must be going through. You gave birth to Serene. Nothing changes that. But she’s so young. Everything that’s happened is confusing to her. She needs to grow up, become stronger, more resilient.”

Lauren locks her fingers together. The skin stretches tight over her cheekbones.

“I’ll reimburse you for the cost of IVF and the surrogacy,” I growl, the words scraping past my throat like sandpaper. Not because I don’t mean them—but because they are the result of all the stress, the tension, the uncertainty I’ve carried since the moment I first saw my daughter.

Cilla glances at me with that steady, grounding look that’s held me together more times than I can count. We hadn’t discussed this. But I see no hesitation in her eyes—only quiet resolve.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says softly.

Of course, it is. We’re always in sync, even when the world is fractured around us. It’s that certainty between us that gives me the freedom to speak my truth without fear of rejection. She meets me where I am, every time.

“I also think it’d be a good idea to share pictures of Serene every year with Lauren.” Her voice is gentler now, turning toward me like a warm breeze. “She’ll be able to watch Serene grow…without disrupting her world.”

I hold her gaze. There’s a softness there—a compassion I’m still learning to emulate. She’s better than me. Always has been. She forgives quicker. Feels deeper. And standing beside her…makes me want to rise to that level. For her. For Serene.

A current of silent agreement passes between us, steady and unshakable. I let my shoulders drop, forcing air into my lungs.

Cilla’s so considerate. And she’s right. This way, we keep Lauren updated on Serene, and hopefully, it satisfies her enough, so she’s not compelled to burst in unannounced, again, in Serene’s life.

“I think that’s a good idea,” I echo, quieter this time.

My wife’s lips curve in a soft smile. She squeezes my fingers. It steadies the storm inside me.

“We’ll make sure Serene knows who you are.” She turns to Lauren. “We’ll be honest about how she came to be. That you were the one who carried her. That you brought her safely into the world.”

I tear my eyes from my wife—her strength, her steadiness—and focus on the woman who gave birth to my daughter. “And when the time is right,” I tell her, voice steady, “you’ll meet her. You’ll tell her your version of the story.”

Lauren’s throat bobs as she swallows. “And…when would that be, do you think?”

“Serene’s therapist says we can’t put a timeline on it,” I say, measured, deliberate. “We can’t raise your hopes. It depends entirely on Serene—on her emotional readiness, on the kind of person she becomes, on how her life unfolds.”

Lauren’s breath catches. “So, I might have to wait until she’s eighteen?”

“Ideally, no,” Cilla replies. Her voice falters just for a second. “Maybe sooner. Maybe when she hits puberty. But we can’t make promises. Again, her therapist says every child is different. And ultimately—it’s our decision. Ours and her therapist’s.”

Lauren’s shoulders curl inward. Her presence seems to dim. “Until then⁠—?”

“Until then,” I cut in, my voice clipped, “you stay away from her. No contact. No attempts to reach her. No watching from a distance. No uninvited visits. You stay away.”

The room falls still.

“If not—’ I square my shoulders. ‘If not, you don’t get to see her at all, not for the rest of your life.’

Lauren draws in a sharp breath. A shudder grips her. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes another few deep breaths. Then she squares her shoulders. When she opens her eyelids there’s a determined and fatalistic expression on her face.

‘I deserve that. I shouldn’t have turned up at the resort the way I did. I will never forgive myself for what happened next. As long as I live, I know, I’ll never get over the sight of her hurting herself and falling into the pool. And I shouldn’t have come here today. I’m sorry, I scared her. I really am.’

She keeps saying she’s sorry but keeps doing things to be sorry for. I have a feeling this is a pattern that won’t change, but I keep my thoughts to myself.

I pull my hand from my wife’s, then wrap my arm about her and draw her close. I take comfort from her warmth, her scent, the familiar curves which I know as well as my own body.

‘Meanwhile, why don’t we exchange contact details?” Cilla says gently.

Lauren swallows, then to my surprise she offers a small smile. ‘I did choose well, didn’t I? I’m glad Serene has you as parents.’ She wipes away a tear.

I see Cilla do the same as she smiles back.

Even I feel a bit of empathy, which I didn’t think was possible. Maybe Lauren just needed the reassurance that we appreciate what she did for Serene, and we can handle it from here?

‘Brody,’ I call out to my brother, who I know is waiting right outside the door of my study. ‘Can you please see Lauren out?’