My Husband Stayed With His Childhood Love—Our Daughter Called Him Stranger Chapter 07

My Husband Stayed With His Childhood Love—Our Daughter Called Him Stranger Chapter 07

Nathaniel sat on a bench in the hospital corridor all night.

When dawn broke, Claire arrived carrying a thermal container of soup.

“Nathaniel.” She placed it beside him, her voice soft and fragile.

“I heard Grace was in the hospital. I was up all night making you soup.”

“Please, have some. Don’t run yourself down.”

He didn’t look up. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.” She sat down beside him and reached out as if to touch his shoulder.

“Nathaniel, I know you’re really hurting right now.”

“But don’t blame yourself too much. What happened to Grace… nobody could have prevented it.”

“Nobody could have prevented it?”

“Yes.” She let out a soft sigh. “And honestly, Sylvie shares some of the blame.”

“If Grace was having an asthma attack, she should’ve just taken her to the hospital.”

“There was no reason to pick a fight with you at a time like that.”

Nathaniel slowly lifted his head. “What did you say?”

Claire didn’t notice the change in his expression.

“Mason told me you were about to drive Grace to the hospital that night, but Sylvie wouldn’t let you go, so you had to…”

“Enough.” He rose to his feet. Looking down at her, his eyes were ice.

“Claire, did Mason really fall down the stairs that night?”

Her smile flickered, just for a split second. “Of—of course he did. You saw him, Nathaniel.”

“I had my assistant pull the surveillance footage from your building.”

The color drained from her face.

“At seven eleven that night, you walked Mason down the stairs. He was bouncing. No injuries. Nothing.”

“I…”

“At seven fifteen, you settled him on the sofa, went into the bathroom for six minutes, then came out and called me.”

Her hands began to shake. “Nathaniel, I was just scared.”

“Scared.” He repeated the word slowly. “So you were scared, so you called me away from Grace when she was dying.”

He said nothing else. He turned and walked toward the exit.

Claire rushed after him and grabbed his sleeve.

“Nathaniel! Please listen to me! I didn’t mean it!”

He shook her off without looking back.

Over the next three days, Nathaniel used every connection he had.

He ordered his legal team to pull Claire’s financial records, medical records, and call logs from the past five years.

More details came to light, and the full truth gradually emerged.

Mason’s depression diagnosis was forged.

She’d paid off a doctor at a local clinic. Three thousand dollars.

The bullying story was also a lie.

Mason’s teacher confirmed it—he was well-liked, and no bullying had ever occurred.

And the last one—the last one broke him.

Fifteen years ago, his mentor, Claire’s father, had suffered a workplace accident that left him permanently disabled.

Everyone believed it was an accident.

But the construction logs showed that the day before the incident, three hundred thousand dollars had suddenly been transferred into Claire’s bank account.

The sender was a construction company. The company was owned by her boyfriend at the time.

After her father’s accident, the compensation payout of one point two million was deposited entirely into Claire’s account.

She had traded her father’s legs for money.

Nathaniel sat in his office with all the evidence spread out in front of him. He didn’t move for two hours.

Then he picked up the phone and called his attorney.

“Get everything together. Hand it over to the police.”

“Mr. Beckett, given the amount involved and the nature of the offenses, she’s facing years.”

“I know.”

“Are you certain you want to file it under your own name?”

“Yes.”

Claire was arrested on her son’s sixth birthday party.

When plainclothes officers entered, she thought it was a surprise arranged by Nathaniel.

Until the cold metal handcuffs locked around her wrists.

“Claire Reed, you are under arrest for fraud and extortion. Come with us.”

Champagne glasses shattered on the floor.

She struggled wildly. “You’ve got the wrong person! I didn’t do anything! I need to see Nathaniel!”

As she was dragged out, she saw him standing beside the police car.

He leaned against the door, expressionless.

“Nathaniel! You can’t do this to me! My father lost his legs for you! You owe us!”

Her voice rose, shriller and more hysterical with every word.

“You’re a murderer! You killed your own daughter! You!”

The door slammed shut. Her screams were cut off—just muffled, frantic noise behind the glass.

Nathaniel stood still until everything went quiet.

Then he raised his right hand. And slapped himself hard across the face.

The sound echoed through the empty parking lot. Again. And again.

Until blood seeped from the corner of his mouth and his right cheek swelled. He didn’t stop.

Neither the driver nor his assistant dared step in.