Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPHS ON THE WALL
The next morning, Claire woke before sunrise and found Vincent asleep in the guest room.
He had come home after midnight, but he had not entered their bedroom. She could hear the shower running now. For one brief moment, the sound pulled her back to their early marriage, when mornings had been slow and ordinary. Vincent used to make coffee while she chose music. He would come up behind her, wrap his arms around her waist, and kiss her shoulder.
Claire stood in the kitchen with a glass of water and let the memory pass.
When Vincent came downstairs, he looked surprised to see her dressed.
“Where are you going?”
“To work.”
“You're not working today.”
“I am.”
“Claire, you're pregnant. You should rest.”
“My doctor said I can continue my normal routine.”
He frowned. “What work?”
She almost smiled. “The design studio you helped me open.”
Carter House Interiors had started as a small business Claire ran from a rented office. Vincent had paid for the first lease, but she had repaid the investment within two years. The company now handled residential renovations and boutique hotels across Illinois. She had built it quietly while Vincent traveled, partly because she loved the work and partly because she needed something that belonged to her.
“I thought you were taking a break,” he said.
“I was taking a break from you. Not from my life.”
He stared at her.
At the studio, her business partner, Julia Park, greeted her with a long hug. Julia knew about the pregnancy but not about New York. Claire told her everything over coffee in the conference room.
Julia listened, then said, “Do you want me to say he's a terrible man?”
“No. I want you to tell me if I can keep the business separate from the divorce.”
“You can. We have clean records, independent accounts, and signed operating agreements. Nora can review everything.”
Claire felt a small release in her chest.
They spent the morning going through the books. Claire had always insisted that the studio's finances remain separate from the Moretti businesses. At the time, Vincent had called her cautious. Now she was grateful.
At lunch, an unfamiliar number called.
“Mrs. Moretti?” a woman asked. Her voice was polished and cool. “This is Sophia Bennett.”
Claire set down her fork.
“I know who you are.”
“I think we should talk.”
“I don't.”
“Vincent said you were upset, and I understand. But Emma is attached to him. She's only six.”
Claire closed her eyes briefly. “Why are you calling me?”
“Because I don't want you to misunderstand the situation.”
“Then you should have called four years ago.”
Sophia fell silent.
Claire continued. “You knew he was married.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he had a wife in Chicago.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was waiting for him.”
Sophia's voice lowered. “Vincent told me your marriage was over in everything but paperwork.”
Claire felt the words like a slap. “And you believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
“That's not the same thing.”
Sophia began to sound defensive. “He was there for Emma. Her biological father left before she was born. Vincent gave her a stable home.”
“I'm glad Emma has stability. But she doesn't need to call my husband Daddy.”
“She's six. She doesn't understand adult arrangements.”
“Then the adults should have protected her from them.”
Sophia inhaled sharply. “You don't know what we've been through.”
“No,” Claire said. “I know what I went through.”
She ended the call.
Julia watched her carefully. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to cancel the afternoon meeting?”
“No. I want to work.”
At four, Vincent appeared at the studio. He had not called ahead. The receptionist looked uncertain, so Claire asked her to let him in.
He stood beside the conference table, his eyes moving over the material boards and project plans. “I didn't know you were this busy.”
“You never asked.”
He looked at the plans. “This is good work.”
“Thank you.”
“Sophia called you.”
Claire nodded.
“She shouldn't have.”
“Why? Because she said something you didn't want me to hear?”
Vincent's jaw tightened. “She was trying to explain Emma.”
“Emma isn't the problem.”
“Then what is?”
“You are. You let a child believe you were her father while you let your wife believe you were coming home.”
He looked genuinely pained. “I love Emma.”
“I believe you.”
“And I love our baby.”
“Then start behaving like a man who can be trusted with a family.”
He stepped closer. “I want to come to your next appointment.”
Claire hesitated. Part of her wanted to say no. Another part knew the child had two parents, and she would not use the pregnancy as a weapon.
“You can come if you confirm with the office and arrive on time.”
“I will.”
“And don't bring Sophia.”
“I wouldn't.”
Claire gathered her papers. “I have a client call.”
Vincent did not move. “Are you going to file for divorce?”
She met his eyes. “I already spoke to an attorney.”
His expression hardened. “You hired a lawyer without telling me?”
“You hired a second family without telling me.”
He looked away.
When he left, Julia came to stand beside her.
“You don't have to decide everything today,” she said.
“I know.”
Claire looked at the plans spread across the table. She had spent years designing rooms that made people feel safe. Now she needed to build that feeling for herself.
Julia later showed Claire a message from a hotel client who wanted to expand the studio's contract. It was the kind of opportunity Claire had once put aside because Vincent preferred her to be available when he visited Chicago.
“You should take it,” Julia said.
“I have a baby coming.”
“And a capable team. We can adjust the schedule.”
Claire considered the proposal. It would mean hiring two additional designers and giving Julia more authority over operations. It was a risk, but it was her risk to take.
“Let's make an offer,” she said.
Julia smiled. “There she is.”
Claire knew the decision did not mean she would never feel hurt again. It meant she was no longer allowing the hurt to make every decision for her.
Later, she walked through the showroom and stopped beside a display of pale oak cabinets and green stone samples. A young couple had come in to discuss a kitchen renovation. They spoke over each other, laughing when they disagreed about the backsplash. Claire watched them and felt a brief pang of envy.
Not because their life was perfect. She knew nothing about their life. She envied the ordinary ease of two people making a decision together without one of them disappearing into another city.
When the couple left, Julia asked whether Claire was all right.
“I'm learning not to compare my life to a picture.”
“Good,” Julia said. “Pictures never show the plumbing problems.”
Claire laughed, and the sound surprised her.
That afternoon, she approved the new hotel contract. She signed her name without adding Vincent's, without asking whether he would approve, and without imagining how the decision might look to his associates. It was a small signature, but it felt like a declaration.
She had spent years thinking the studio was a small thing beside Vincent's empire. Now she understood that its size had never been the point. It was proof that she could make something useful, beautiful, and lasting without borrowing her husband's identity.
At the end of the week, Claire and Julia met with the hotel client. The client was a practical woman who cared more about deadlines than personal drama. She asked Claire whether she could oversee the project while pregnant.
“I can,” Claire replied. “I'll have a team lead on site, and I'll remain responsible for the design.”
The client studied her for a moment, then signed the proposal.
On the drive back, Julia said, “You sounded like yourself in there.”
“What does that mean?”
“Certain. Not apologetic. You didn't explain why you deserved the contract. You just showed them what you could do.”
Claire smiled faintly. She had not realized how often she softened her voice around Vincent, how frequently she added explanations to decisions that were already reasonable.
That evening, she reviewed the studio's hiring plan and approved a new junior designer position. The work would give another person an opportunity and would give Claire more room to manage her health and the pregnancy.
She sent the offer letter before she could talk herself out of it.
Later, she found herself looking at the old wedding photograph again. This time she did not feel the urge to turn it face down. She studied the young woman in the picture and felt tenderness for her.
That woman had believed in love. Claire did not want to punish her for that.
She put the photograph away carefully and returned to the plans for the showroom.
That night, Claire received the first draft of the showroom budget. She reviewed every line, corrected two estimates, and approved the deposit. It was a small business decision, but she felt a quiet satisfaction in making it without asking Vincent whether the timing was convenient.
Before bed, she placed her hand over her stomach and felt a faint flutter she could not quite identify. It might have been nothing. The doctor had told her it was too early to feel movement, but Claire smiled anyway.
May you like
“Soon enough,” she whispered.
The room was quiet. There was no phone call to wait for, no flight to track, no promise to interpret. There was only the life growing inside her and the work she had chosen for herself. For once, tomorrow did not depend on a man in another city.
