I defended my mother.
Too often.
I told Sienna not to take things personally.
I said Margaret had a difficult personality.
I said she meant well.
I said peace mattered.
Now every sentence I had used to dismiss Sienna’s discomfort came back like evidence.
I stood.
“I need my phone.”
Sienna looked confused.
“What?”
“I need to check something.”
I pulled it out.
Then opened call history.
Nothing from Sienna.
Not recently.
I searched six months back.
Still nothing.
Then I remembered.
Blocked numbers.
My hands started shaking.
I opened settings.
Scrolled.
Blocked contacts.
There.
Sienna Parker.
My heart stopped.
I had never blocked her.
PART 7
I stared at the screen.
Sienna watched me.
“What?”
I turned the phone toward her.
Her name was there.
Blocked.
She went pale.
“I didn’t do that.”
I whispered.
“I know.”
Then I remembered something else.
My phone had been replaced shortly before our separation.
It broke during a business trip.
Margaret had been at my house when the replacement arrived.
She had helped with the transfer because I was leaving again that afternoon.
At the time, I had thanked her.
Now I felt sick.
I unblocked Sienna.
Then checked archived messages.
Nothing.
Deleted messages.
My phone carrier stored some recent records online.
I opened the account.
Logged in.
Then froze.
Six calls from Sienna.
All during the first month after she left.
Three voicemail notifications.
Then no more.
My stomach turned.
She had called.
She had tried.
PART 8
I called my carrier from the hospital.
The representative confirmed the calls had reached my account.
But because Sienna’s number was blocked, they had been routed directly to voicemail.
The voicemails were later deleted.
I asked.
“Can someone delete them remotely?”
“Not without account access.”
Account access.
My mother knew the password.
Or had.
Because she helped set up the new device.
I sat down.
My hands were cold.
Sienna whispered.
“Ethan.”
I looked at her.
She was crying.
Not loudly.
Just quietly.
“I thought you hated me.”
My throat closed.
“I thought you hated me.”
She covered her face.
I did not know if I had the right to touch her.
So I stayed where I was.
That distance hurt more than I can explain.
PART 9
Then she said.
“There was one message.”
“What?”
“I sent one final message.”
I remembered Dr. Hayes mentioning something.
“What did it say?”
Sienna looked at me.
“You were the one who left me.”
“I never wanted to go.”
My chest tightened.
“I never saw it.”
“I know that now.”
I looked down at my phone.
Then suddenly realized something.
If the calls had been blocked and the voicemails deleted, someone had intentionally prevented us from speaking.
Not just once.
Repeatedly.
That meant planning.
I asked.
“Did you tell my mother about the baby?”
Sienna’s expression changed.
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped again.
“When?”
“The day after I found out.”
That was before the divorce was final.
“What did she say?”
Sienna looked toward the window.
Then whispered.
“She told me not to use the baby to trap you.”
I felt anger rise so fast I had to stand.
PART 10
I said.
“She said what?”
Sienna nodded.
“She said you had already decided you wanted out.”
“She said if I told you about the pregnancy, you would assume I was trying to manipulate you.”
“I asked if you knew.”
“She said yes.”
My jaw tightened.
“She lied.”
“I know.”
Then Sienna said something worse.
“She also told me you were seeing someone.”
I stared.
“What?”
“A woman at work.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“There was no one.”
“I know that now too.”
“Who?”
“She said your executive assistant.”
“Naomi?”
Sienna nodded.
I shook my head.
“Naomi is married.”
“To a woman.”
Sienna stared.
Then laughed weakly through tears.
“Your mother left that part out.”
Of course she did.
PART 11
The lie suddenly looked larger.
Margaret had not merely encouraged a divorce.
She had built two separate stories.
To me.
Sienna wanted out.
Sienna had retained counsel.
Sienna was done trying.
To Sienna.
I wanted out.
I had someone else.
I did not want the baby.
Then she blocked Sienna’s number.
Deleted messages.
Possibly intercepted papers.
Maybe more.
I asked.
“Who was your divorce attorney?”
“Rebecca Sloan.”
I knew the name.
“Mine was Peter Lane.”
Sienna frowned.
“Peter Lane?”
“Yes.”
She stared.
“That’s not the lawyer whose name was on the papers I received.”
My blood went cold.
“Who?”
“Thomas Bennett.”
My uncle.
My mother’s brother.
PART 12
Thomas was an estate attorney.
Not a divorce lawyer.
He handled family trusts.
Some business matters.
He had no reason to be involved in my divorce.
Except if Margaret brought him in.
I stared.
“This is worse than I thought.”
Sienna looked exhausted.
Dr. Hayes returned.
She checked the monitor.
Then said.
“You both need to slow down.”
I almost laughed.
She was right.
But how?
My son was in intensive care.
My ex-wife had been pregnant without my knowledge.
My mother had apparently interfered with our communication.
And now my uncle’s name had surfaced on legal papers I had never seen.
There was no slow.
PART 13
Dr. Hayes told me the baby could have one visitor at a time.
Sienna looked at me.
“Go.”
I hesitated.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“He needs his father.”
That word broke me.
Father.
I had not known I was one until that morning.
Now I was walking toward a neonatal intensive care unit to meet my son.
I scrubbed my hands.
Put on a gown.
A nurse led me inside.
Then pointed toward a small incubator.
“There he is.”
Everything inside me stopped.
PART 14
He was tiny.
So tiny.
A knitted blue cap covered his head.
A breathing tube rested beneath his nose.
Wires crossed his chest.
His hand was smaller than my thumb.
I stood beside the incubator.
Unable to speak.
The nurse said.
