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"My husband’s pregnant mistress walked into my unborn son’s Manhattan nursery, ran her fingers across his white oak crib, and said, “This room belongs to my baby now.” Graham stood behind her with legal papers designed to move me out of our penthouse before I gave birth, while the nursery I had prepared after two miscarriages stayed exactly where it was—for her child. But neither of them seemed to remember the small camera Graham himself had installed above the bookshelf two weeks earlier.
"“Where is my son?” I shouted when I walked into the nursery and found my three-month-old baby’s crib completely empty. I had just come home from a Manhattan hotel where I had spent the night with my mistress, while my wife believed I was meeting investors in Boston. Noah’s blankets, bottles, diapers, clothes, and little blue teddy bear were gone, but downstairs my wife had left behind one thing: her wedding ring beside a nine-word note. The moment I read those words, I knew Claire had discovered something—but I had no idea how much.