MATTHEW'S POV
I watched my son pace the length of my study, his face pale with shock. The sonogram lay on my desk between us like a ticking bomb. Daniel stood by the window, uncharacteristically silent.
"It could be fake," I said, examining the grainy image. "A manipulation to get money or attention."
"And if it's not?" Ethan's voice was hollow. "If Sophia was pregnant when she left?"
I'd built Carter Enterprises from nothing, faced countless crises, but seeing my son this shaken rattled even me.
"Then we handle it," I said firmly. "Like we handle everything."
"How do we know it's even yours?" Daniel asked. "Sophia wasn't exactly—"
"Don't," Ethan warned.
I studied my eldest son. Five years of rebuilding himself after Sophia left, and now this sham marriage to his assistant that was clearly becoming something more. Something dangerous.
"Where is Claire?" I asked.
"Asleep," Ethan replied. "She doesn't know about this yet."
"Good." I nodded. "Keep it that way until we verify the truth."
After they left, I pulled out the folder my private investigator had compiled on Claire Lawson. Nothing alarming—middle-class family, scholarships to NYU, consistent employment history. No criminal record, no suspicious debts. But something about her quick acceptance of this arrangement bothered me.
The phone interrupted my thoughts.
"Matthew Carter," I answered.
"Mr. Carter." A woman's voice, distorted somehow. "I believe your family has received my messages."
My grip tightened. "Who is this?"
"A friend. Someone who knows what Sophia Reynolds is planning."
"If you have something to say, say it plainly."
A soft laugh. "It's not that simple. The child is real, Mr. Carter. But there's more to the story than a surprise grandchild."
"What do you want?" I demanded.
"Meet me tomorrow, Central Park, Bethesda Fountain, noon. Come alone."
The line went dead.
I sat back, troubled. Whoever this was knew about the sonogram. Knew about Sophia. But something felt wrong about the whole situation.
The next morning, I found Claire in the kitchen, making coffee. She looked tired but composed.
"Good morning, Mr. Carter," she said politely.
"Matthew," I corrected, surprising myself. "We're family now, after all."
She gave me a cautious smile. "Matthew, then."
I studied her as she moved around the kitchen with quiet efficiency. No flashy jewelry, no designer clothes. Nothing like Sophia, who'd treated this house like her personal showcase.
"How is Ethan this morning?" I asked casually.
"Stressed." Claire handed me a cup of coffee, prepared exactly how I liked it. "He left early for the office."
Interesting that she could read my son so well. More interesting that she'd noticed my coffee preference.
"And how are you handling all this?" I asked.
Claire's eyes met mine, direct and unflinching. "I'm doing my job, sir. Supporting Ethan as needed."
"Is that all it is to you? A job?"
A flash of something—hurt, perhaps—crossed her face before she masked it. "What else would it be?"
I sipped my coffee. "You tell me, Claire."
She set down her cup. "I should get ready for work."
As she left, I noticed the quiet dignity in her posture. No dramatics, no defensive outbursts. Just steady determination.
Maybe I'd misjudged her.
At noon, I stood by Bethesda Fountain, watching tourists snap photos. A woman in a dark coat and sunglasses approached, sitting beside me.
"Mr. Carter." She kept her face angled away from me. "Thank you for coming."
"I don't appreciate games," I said. "What do you know about Sophia?"
"She's been planning this for years." The woman's voice was barely audible. "The child is five years old now."
My heart sank. The timing matched. "And you know this how?"
"I've been watching her. Waiting for the right moment."
"Why?" I demanded. "What's your stake in this?"
The woman finally turned. Though sunglasses hid her eyes, something about her seemed oddly familiar.
"Sophia Reynolds destroyed my family," she said. "Now she's back to destroy yours. She wants more than just acknowledgment of the child. She wants control of Carter Enterprises."
I scoffed. "Impossible."
"Is it?" She handed me a folder. "Look at the documents Sophia had drawn up before she left. A trust in the child's name. With provisions."
I skimmed the papers, blood running cold. If Ethan acknowledged paternity, the child would immediately own fifteen percent of company shares—shares that would be controlled by Sophia until the child turned twenty-one.
"How did you get these?" I asked.
"I have my sources." She stood. "There's more. Sophia wasn't alone in this plan. She had help from inside your company."
"Who?"
"That's what you need to find out." She walked away, pausing to add, "Watch your daughter-in-law carefully, Mr. Carter. Not everyone is who they appear to be."
I spent the afternoon poring over the documents, verifying their authenticity. They appeared genuine, which meant Sophia had been plotting her exit—and return—before she ever left.
But what did Claire have to do with any of this?
That evening, I went to the office, surprised to find Ethan still at his desk. Even more surprising was Claire, asleep on the office couch, a stack of reports beside her.
"She refused to go home," Ethan explained quietly. "Said she needed to finish the Singapore proposal."
I looked at my son—really looked at him. The hard lines of his face had softened as he gazed at Claire. I'd seen that expression before, years ago, when he'd first met Sophia. But this was different somehow. More genuine.
"She works too hard," I said.
Ethan nodded. "I've told her that."
"And she ignores you." I couldn't help smiling. "Good. You need someone who stands their ground."
Ethan looked startled. "I thought you didn't approve of her."
"I'm reserving judgment," I said carefully. "But she seems... different from what I expected."
I didn't mention the mysterious woman's warning. Not yet.
As if sensing our conversation, Claire stirred, blinking awake. "Mr. Carter. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"No apology needed," I assured her. "I admire dedication."
Ethan helped her up, his hand lingering on her arm. The gesture was small but telling.
Later, as we walked to our cars, I noted how Ethan stayed close to Claire, protective. When her phone buzzed with a message, his whole body tensed.
"Everything okay?" he asked, too quickly.
"Just Emily," Claire said, but I caught the relief in Ethan's expression.
He was afraid. Afraid of Sophia reaching out to Claire again.
In that moment, I realized something important—whatever game Sophia was playing, Claire was central to it. And my son knew it.
"Ethan," I said as Claire walked ahead. "Be careful."
He frowned. "About?"
"Your heart." I nodded toward Claire. "You're starting to care for her."
"It's not like that," he insisted, but his eyes betrayed him.
"Son, I know what losing Sophia did to you. If this child is real—"
"I know what's at stake," he snapped.
I sighed. "Do you? Because from where I stand, it's not just the company at risk anymore."
My phone rang as I reached my car. Private number.
"Yes?" I answered.
"Did you look at those documents?" The distorted voice again.
"I did. What else do you know?"
"Check Claire Lawson's employment history. Three years before she started working for Ethan. See who hired her."
"What are you implying?"
"Nothing yet. Just follow the thread, Mr. Carter. You might be surprised where it leads."
The call ended. I sat in my car, troubled. Could Claire be part of some elaborate plan? Was that why she'd so easily agreed to this marriage?
I dialed my investigator. "I need more information on Claire Lawson. Specifically, who recommended her for employment at Carter Enterprises."
As I waited for his response, I watched Ethan help Claire into his car, his hand gentle on her back. For the first time in years, my son looked almost happy.
But happiness was dangerous when built on lies.
The investigator's voice cut through my thoughts. "Sir, I found something. Claire Lawson's first job interview at Carter Enterprises was arranged by Sophia Reynolds."
My blood ran cold.
"Are you certain?" I demanded.
"Absolutely. There's an email trail. And sir? There's something else."
"What?"
"Claire and Sophia attended the same private high school for one year. They knew each other long before Carter Enterprises."
I ended the call, shock turning to anger. Claire had lied—by omission, at least. She and Sophia had history.
The question was, were they enemies? Or co-conspirators in the most elaborate con ever played on the Carter family?