Chapter 2

Being debt-free was wonderful. But being debt-free without personal money was less wonderful.

I had grown up with drivers, housekeepers, and closets larger than normal apartments. I was not prepared to leave Bennett House with two children, two suitcases, and an inspiring new respect for public transportation.

Besides, however absurd their origin story, I loved all three of my children.

My fear eased a little when Adrian began making plans for my recovery.

"The postpartum team is ready at home," he told me. "Same private nurse you liked after the boys, plus another night nurse. Your doctor has their information."

That did not sound like a man preparing to remove the mother from the family portrait.

When we returned to Bennett House, I expected the nurses to handle the baby while Adrian went back to work.

Instead, he became the night nurse.

I discovered this at two in the morning when I went downstairs for water and heard our daughter crying. The nursery door stood partly open. Inside, Adrian had already changed her diaper. He warmed a bottle with one hand, checked the temperature against his wrist, and lifted her against his chest.

His movements were practiced.

"There you go, princess. Big drink. That's my brilliant girl. Look at you. You are exceptional at milk."

I leaned against the doorframe.

This was the same man who once made a senior vice president resign with a six-second silence.

Now he was praising an infant for swallowing.

Our daughter took another drink.

"Perfect," he whispered. "Absolutely gifted."

I laughed before I could stop myself.

Adrian turned. Shadows sat beneath his eyes; he had clearly been doing the nighttime feedings for days.

"Why are you awake?" he asked.

"Why are you doing this? We hired people. The nurses can help you. They can help the baby too."

He set the empty bottle aside and patted our daughter's back until she burped.

"The boys were attached to their nannies when they were little," he said. "They cried when the first one left."

"Children do that."

"My daughter is not going to miss someone else more than she misses me."

I studied his solemn face.

"You understand that is not a healthy competition."

"I'm winning it anyway."

Adrian kept his word. Outside office hours, he carried our daughter everywhere. He learned which lullaby made her yawn, which blanket she preferred, and exactly how long she would tolerate being placed in a crib before demanding the return of her personal billionaire.

And he did not neglect the boys. He took them to breakfast on Saturdays, built a train set across half the library, and somehow knew which one had hidden a cookie under his pillow.

But our daughter could make him abandon a conference call by sneezing in the next room.

By the time she turned one, she had him thoroughly trained.

That was also when Adrian began sleeping in my room again.

We had kept separate bedrooms through most of my recovery. One evening, he appeared at my door carrying our daughter, her stuffed rabbit, and an overnight bag.

"What is this?" I asked.

"She is old enough to remember things now."

"Such as?"

"Her parents sleeping in separate rooms."

"She cannot open a yogurt by herself. I doubt she is documenting our marriage."

Adrian walked past me and set the overnight bag beside the dresser.

"If she thinks her family is unhappy, it could affect her emotional development."

"So this is for her emotional development?"

"Entirely."

So I moved to my side of the bed and gave him space. If our daughter's emotional development required her father to remain married to me in a mansion, I supported her childhood wellness.

Life settled into something comfortable.

Then Vivian Clarke came back to Lakebridge.

I heard the news in a private social group where wealthy families exchanged charity invitations and gossip with equal urgency. Vivian and Adrian had grown up together. The Clarkes and Bennetts had vacationed together, celebrated holidays together, and treated each other's children like family.

People claimed that if Vivian had not left the country after high school, Adrian would have married her.