Part 2: Claire’s hands trembled slightly as she reached deeper into her purse
Claire’s hands trembled slightly as she reached deeper into her purse. Instead of a weapon or something frightening, she pulled out a small, worn photograph and placed it on the bed between us.
It was a picture of a little girl, no older than four, with the same warm eyes and soft smile as Claire.
“This is Sophie,” she said quietly. “My daughter.”
I stared at the photo, then back at her.
“You’re a mother?”
She nodded. “Her father left when she was a baby. For the past year I’ve been in a difficult custody battle. The court keeps questioning whether I can provide a stable home as a single waitress. When you offered a legal marriage… even a temporary one… it felt like the first real chance I’ve had to protect her.”
She looked up at me, eyes steady but vulnerable.
“I wasn’t trying to trick you. I just needed you to see her face before you decided whether you still wanted to go through with this. Some men hear the word ‘child’ and run. I needed to know if you would scream… or stay.”
The room was silent for a long moment.
I picked up the photograph. The little girl was missing one front tooth and holding a stuffed rabbit.
“Where is she now?” I asked.
“At my sister’s house. Ten minutes away.”
I set the photo down carefully.
“Then let’s go get her.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “What?”
“If we’re going to pretend to be a family for two years,” I said, “we might as well start tonight.”