Chapter 3 - The Spider in the Web
The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my modern steel-and-glass mansion in Franklin.
To the outside world, I was Rowan Bellamy—billionaire CEO of Bellamy Global Logistics, a man who had survived a high-profile divorce and was about to marry the elegant socialite Tessa Whitmore.
To myself, I was a man living inside a nightmare of my own creation.
I stood in the kitchen, sipping black coffee, watching Tessa as she walked down the grand staircase. She wore an ivory silk robe, her golden hair styled flawlessly, her face radiant with anticipation for our upcoming wedding.
"Good morning, darling," she said softly, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind and resting her chin on my shoulder. "You came home so late last night. I missed you."
I forced every muscle in my body to remain relaxed. I took a slow breath, inhaling her perfume—a sweet lavender scent that now smelled foul to me.
"Work was complicated," I said smoothly, turning around in her arms to face her. "Just ironing out the last details of the merger before our wedding."
"You work too hard," she smiled, reaching up to adjust my collar. "Soon, everything will be perfect. My father's foundation will merge with your company, and we will control the entire region."
I looked down at her—really looked at her.
Her smile was warm, her eyes bright and innocent. It was terrifying how completely she could hide the cruel, calculating sociopath beneath that polished exterior.
"Tessa," I began casually, taking a slow sip of my coffee. "Do you ever think about Maren?"
Her smile stiffened for a fraction of a second—so brief that if I hadn't been watching her like a hawk, I would have missed it.
"Why would I think about her?" Tessa asked, her tone dripping with quiet disgust. "She was a distraction. A low-class girl who tried to climb into a life she didn't belong in. She tried to ruin you, Rowan."
"It's just strange," I said, stepping past her toward the kitchen island. "Yesterday, when we saw her on the road... she had two babies with her."
Tessa laughed, a cold, tinkling sound. "Probably some local deadbeat's kids. Why do you care?"
"Because," I said, leaning against the counter and looking her straight in the eye, "they had light curls. Just like mine. And they looked to be about eleven months old. The exact timeline of when Maren left."
Tessa’s laughter cut off instantly. Her posture straightened, her green eyes narrowing into sharp, defensive slits.
"Rowan," she said, her voice losing its sweetness, replaced by a stern, motherly control. "Are you seriously letting that tragic little encounter get into your head? We talked about this with our lawyers. Maren lied to you about everything. She was sleeping with her personal trainer, she was siphoning money from your charitable accounts—"
"I know what the reports said, Tessa," I interrupted softly.
"Then stop bringing her up!" Tessa snapped, her temper flaring before she quickly reined it back in. She walked over to me, placing her manicured hand on my chest. "Darling... we are two weeks away from our wedding. Don't let ghosts from your past ruin what we're building. Please."
"You're right," I lied, offering a tight, forced smile. "I'm just tired."
"Good," she breathed, kissing my cheek. "I have a charity board meeting at the Saint Jude Children's Annex this afternoon. I'll be back by four. Don't forget, we have our rehearsal dinner tasting tonight."
She turned and walked up the stairs to get dressed.
As soon as her bedroom door clicked shut, I pulled out my phone and dialed a private number.
"Vance," I said into the receiver.
"Rowan," Vance answered nervously. "I told you everything I know—"
"Tessa just said she has a charity meeting at the Saint Jude Children's Annex today," I said, my voice cold and focused. "Why does a woman who hates children spend three days a week at a private pediatric facility?"
Silence hung on the line for three agonizing seconds.
"Vance," I warned. "If you hide one more detail from me, I will make sure the FBI receives every single financial record of your illegal wiretaps by noon."
"Okay! Okay!" Vance panicked. "Listen to me... two weeks after Maren gave birth, Tessa made a massive five-hundred-thousand-dollar personal donation to the Saint Jude Annex. She funded a private, off-the-record neonatal care program."
My blood ran cold. "Who is in that program, Vance?"
"I don't have the patient names, Rowan," Vance said, his breath hitching. "It's a high-security facility. But Tessa goes there every Tuesday and Thursday. She doesn't just visit the board... she visits a private room on the fourth floor."
I hung up the phone without another word.
May you like
My third child wasn't dead.
He was being kept in a private medical ward, hidden from the world by the very woman who had ruined my family.
