PART 3 — The Woman Behind the Lie
Declan didn't leave.
Not immediately.
He stood in my living room, staring at me as if he was waiting for me to say something that could make sense of what had just happened.
“A woman called you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“One week after I found out I was pregnant.”
“What did she say?”
I hesitated.
“She told me to stay away from you.”
“Did she give you her name?”
“No.”
“Did you recognize her voice?”
“I thought I did.”
Declan's eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
I looked toward the window.
“Your sister.”
His expression changed instantly.
“Victoria?”
“I wasn't sure.”
“You've met Victoria dozens of times.”
“I know.”
“So why didn't you tell me?”
“Because she was your sister.”
He ran a hand through his hair.
“You should have told me.”
“I was terrified.”
“What exactly did she say?”
I closed my eyes.
The memory came back with painful clarity.
I had been sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the positive pregnancy test.
My hands were shaking.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice said, “You don't know me, but I know what you're carrying.”
I had frozen.
“How do you know?”
“Because people around Declan talk.”
“Who are you?”
“That doesn't matter.”
Then she said:
“If you tell him about the baby, you'll lose him.”
I remembered gripping the phone.
“What are you talking about?”
“You think he'll choose you?”
Her voice had sounded almost amused.
“He'll choose his family. His company. His reputation. Not you.”
I had started crying.
“You're lying.”
“Maybe.”
Then came the sentence that haunted me.
“If you love your baby, stay away from Declan Rowan.”
The call ended.
I had never heard from her again.
Declan listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he looked furious.
But not at me.
“At the time,” he said slowly, “Victoria was in London.”
“How do you know?”
“She was there for a charity event.”
“Could someone else have been using her name?”
“Yes.”
He reached for his phone.
“I'm calling my security director.”
I watched him make the call.
“Pull every communication connected to my divorce proceedings from the last year. Personal, legal, financial. I want everything.”
He paused.
“And check who had access to my private files.”
Another pause.
“No. Don't involve the police yet.”
He hung up.
I stared at him.
“You really think someone manipulated us?”
“I think someone knew you were pregnant.”
“And?”
“And someone wanted me to remain ignorant.”
He walked toward me.
“That's not an accident.”
James stirred in my arms.
I looked down.
Declan's expression softened.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Why James?”
I smiled faintly.
“Noah was your middle name.”
He looked stunned.
“You remembered?”
“I remembered everything about you.”
His eyes dropped.
“Even after everything?”
“Unfortunately.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Declan said quietly, “I never stopped loving you.”
My heart tightened.
“Don't.”
“I'm telling you the truth.”
“You can't say that now.”
“Why?”
“Because five months ago, you signed divorce papers.”
His face hardened with regret.
“I thought you hated me.”
“I did.”
“Do you still?”
I looked at him.
“I don't know.”
That answer seemed to hurt him more than anger would have.
Before he could respond, his phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
Then went completely still.
“What?”
I asked.
He didn't answer.
“Declan?”
He turned the screen toward me.
There was a message from his security director.
We found the deleted file. You need to see this immediately.
Below it was a photograph.
A scanned document.
My name was on it.
My pregnancy test results.
The date.
The doctor's name.
And beneath it was a handwritten note.
Do not let Declan know.
My hands began shaking.
“Where did they get that?”
Declan stared at the screen.
“I don't know.”
“That's my private medical information.”
“I know.”
“Who had access?”
His jaw tightened.
“Apparently, someone inside my organization.”
I looked at him.
“Then it wasn't just your family.”
“No.”
“Someone at your company knew.”
“Yes.”
He sat beside me.
“I need you to tell me everything that happened after the divorce.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Every strange phone call. Every message. Anyone who approached you. Anyone who offered help.”
I thought.
Then remembered something.
“There was a lawyer.”
Declan looked up.
“What lawyer?”
“A woman named Evelyn Hart.”
His expression immediately changed.
“Where did you meet her?”
“She came to my apartment two weeks after the divorce.”
“What did she want?”
“She said she represented someone who wanted to help me.”
“Who?”
“She wouldn't say.”
Declan stood.
“Did you sign anything?”
“No.”
“Did she leave anything?”
I nodded.
“A card.”
“Do you still have it?”
I wasn't sure.
I went to the hallway cabinet and searched through old papers.
After several minutes, I found a small white envelope.
Inside was the business card.
Declan took it.
The moment he read the name, his face became completely expressionless.
“Who is she?”
He didn't answer.
“Declan?”
Finally, he whispered:
“Evelyn Hart was my father's attorney.”
I stared at him.
“Your father?”
“My father has been dead for six years.”
“Then why would his lawyer contact me?”
Declan looked at the card again.
“I don't know.”
His phone rang.
This time, it was his security director.
Declan answered.
“Tell me.”
The voice on the other end spoke rapidly.
Declan's expression darkened.
“What?”
A pause.
“No. You're certain?”
Another pause.
He slowly looked at me.
“What happened?”
I asked.
He ended the call.
Then he said something that made the room feel suddenly colder.
“Evelyn Hart isn't working for my father's estate anymore.”
“Then who does she work for?”
Declan stared at the card.
“Me.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“She has been one of my company's outside legal advisers for the last three years.”
I couldn't breathe.
“She knew about us.”
“Yes.”
“She knew about the divorce.”
“Yes.”
“And she knew about James.”
Declan's eyes met mine.
“Apparently, she knew before I did.”
Then he turned the card over.
There was a second phone number handwritten on the back.
Declan recognized it.
His face drained of color.
“That's my mother's private number.”
I stared at him.
And suddenly, someone knocked on my front door.
Three slow knocks.
Declan looked at me.
Neither of us moved.
Then a woman's voice came through the door.
“I know you're in there.”
My blood ran cold.
Because I recognized the voice.
It was the same woman who had called me five months ago.
“If you love your baby, stay away from Declan Rowan.”
