I Had His Daughter: She Had His Name Chapter 04

I Had His Daughter: She Had His Name Chapter 04

On the fourth day, my fever hit103.

The nurse needed a family member to sign off on medication. Grant’s phone rang and rang with no answer.

Half an hour later, Vivian posted on Instagram.

In the photo, Grant was holding Colton, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the VIP suite.

The caption read: [First time putting the baby to sleep. Clumsy but sweet.]

I stared at that photo for a long time.

The year he went bankrupt, he held me and said, “Stella, when I make it, I’ll give you the good life. Our daughter is going to have the brightest room in the house.”

Now he had money.

The brightest room went to his illegitimate son.

My daughter lay beside me. Her birth certificate didn’t even have a father’s name.

That afternoon, Grant finally showed up.

Behind him was a lawyer. The document folder landed on my nightstand while my vision swam with fever.

The first page was a nondisclosure agreement.

The second was a custody arrangement.

The third was a draft divorce settlement.

The daughter would take my last name. The father’s identity would remain undisclosed. I was prohibited from interfering in any way with the normal family life of Grant Calloway, Vivian Langford, and Colton.

Normal family life.

Those three words were like needles, pressing slowly into my chest.

So they got the flowers, the suite, the christening dinner, and that made them a normal family. My daughter and I were the ones who had to be hidden away. Couldn’t cry. Couldn’t make a scene. Couldn’t let anyone know we existed.

Grant slid a card across to me.

“Ten million dollars. A house in Savannah. I’ll cover the kid’s education.”

His voice was gentle, like he was coaxing me.

Luna was sleeping restlessly beside me, her tiny fist clenched around the hem of my hospital gown, as if she were afraid someone would leave her behind.

Grant sat on the edge of the bed and softened his tone.

“Stella, I’m not abandoning you.”

“Once the christening dinner tonight is over, I’ll personally take you and the baby to the recovery center.”

“I’ll make sure you’re both taken care of from now on.”

So that’s what my marriage was. My child. Six years of swallowed grievances. In his mind, it all came down to relocation and compensation.

The lawyer held out a receipt of delivery form.

“Ms. Whitfield, just confirm you’ve received the documents.”

I took the pen. My fingers shook so badly I could barely hold it.

I signed the receipt.

Grant actually looked relieved.

He thought I’d finally come around.

His phone rang.

Vivian’s voice came through the speaker, thick with tears. “Grant, Colton spit up. Your mother says you can’t miss the christening dinner tonight.”

Grant glanced at me. For one fleeting second, I saw hesitation in his eyes.

I held my daughter and waited quietly.

Waited for him to hang up.

Waited for him to say he wasn’t going.

Waited for him to say, Let me stay with you first.

But in the end, he just stood up.

“Stella, I’ll be right back.”

I nodded softly.

“Okay.”

The moment the door closed, I finally understood.

People don’t stop loving all at once. It happens one unanswered call at a time, one abandonment at a time, until you’re finally too afraid to wait anymore.

At eight that evening, the Calloway christening dinner began right on schedule.

One of the Calloway relatives posted a video on Instagram, then deleted it a few minutes later.

In the clip, Grant was holding Colton, standing beside Vivian.

Someone laughed and asked, “Grant, what are you going to do about that woman at the hospital? She’s not going to show up at the estate, is she?”

Grant was quiet for two seconds.

“She can’t leave me.”

Someone else chuckled. “That confident?”

Grant set his glass down. His voice was low.

“She stuck with me through six years of hell. The thing she’s most afraid of is me walking away.”

“I’ll sweet-talk her a little. She’ll come around.”

The video ended there.

I watched it for a long time.

So he knew everything.

He knew I was terrified of being abandoned. He knew I couldn’t let go of those six years. He knew that if he so much as glanced back at me, I’d soften.

That’s why he dared to make me endure it. Make me wait. Make me hold our newborn daughter and step aside for them.

I dried my tears, picked up my daughter, and walked out of the hospital room.

The first southbound train out of Hartford left at dawn.