Desmond moved quickly.
The car Marcus had driven to hotpot was registered to a company owned by my father’s trust. So was the apartment, the premium insurance, and the account Marcus used for nearly every household expense.
He had always believed my family was comfortable.
He had never understood how comfortable—or how carefully everything had been protected.
Within two hours, his authorized cards stopped working. The vehicle’s access was suspended, and the apartment locks were scheduled to change once I was safely discharged. Desmond also filed emergency documents preventing Marcus from moving money or removing my belongings.
That was when he called.
“Claire… what did you do? Everything’s gone.”
“I protected my son and myself.”
He accused me of humiliating him in front of his family. Colette could be heard demanding that I restore the cards and send someone to collect them from the restaurant.
“You left your wife and newborn in a hospital and told us to take a bus,” I replied. “Find your own way home.”
My father arranged a private car and a nurse to bring us to a secured guesthouse the following morning.
Marcus arrived at the hospital with flowers and apologies.
I declined both.
He thought abandoning me after childbirth would prove where I stood in his family.
Instead, it showed me exactly why he no longer belonged in mine.