Claire’s words hung in the air like a thunderstorm that hadn’t yet broken.
“What do you mean he already knew?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
She sat down slowly, still holding Noah tightly against her chest, as if she wanted to protect him from something we couldn’t yet see.
“Maya… Nathan didn’t just know about your pregnancy,” she said. “He was having you watched.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Those photos in the folder… they weren’t a coincidence. He paid someone to follow you. I saw the bank statements—small, regular payments to a private investigator. And there were notes. Dates. Your daily routine. Your OB-GYN appointments.”
I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all.
“It doesn’t make any sense… why would he do that?”
Claire’s eyes hardened.
“Because he was terrified.”
“Terrified of what?”
“Of taking responsibility. Of ruining his image. Of losing everything he had built here in Chicago—his corporate job, his country club reputation, his ‘perfect’ family.” She laughed bitterly. “You and Noah just didn’t fit into that picture.”
I felt anger and fear rush through my veins like ice water.
“But… what about the money? That wire transfer in my name?”
Claire took a deep breath.
“He was likely trying to create a paper trail—so he could claim later on that he supported you financially. It was just an insurance policy for himself.”
I buried my face in my hands.
“He monitored my life like… like I was some kind of project.”
Noah started to stir softly, his tiny fist grabbing Claire’s t-shirt. She shushed him gently, and for a moment, the room went completely quiet.
Then she looked up at me again.
“There’s something else.”
My heart started pounding.
“What now?”
“I found a contract,” she said, pulling the last document out of the manila folder. “It wasn’t signed yet. But it’s very clear what he was planning to do.”
I took the paper with shaking hands.
It was a non-disclosure agreement.
Full of dense legal jargon.
Cold. Calculating.
In plain English:
He wanted to pay me to stay quiet.