Page 97 of Conviction

“Well?” he asks.

“Well what?”

“You’ve got the incriminating stuff, is there anything else you wanna grab?”

“Ah, yeah. Passport.”

“Where is it?’ he asks.

Hmmm. See, there’s the thing.

“I don’t know, Marcus always used to keep it. In the safe I assume.”

I wait for the comment.

“Marcus used to keep your passport? And you let him?”

“No, it wasn’t like that. He just always looked after it.”

Another one of those things I never really thought odd until I left him. Marcus was always actually a little bit obsessive about knowing where my passport was, saying it was because it was a pain in the arse to get it replaced if I lost it and because I was forgetful and always losing things, it was better if he kept a hold of it. The thing was though, I’ve never been forgetful, or careless. I’ve never been one to lose stuff, but I never questioned his motives or reasoning. I just rolled over and let him take control.

I go back into the wardrobe and end up where Marcus has all of his clothes. The safe is hidden behind his suits. I just hope he hasn’t changed the combination.

It opens at my first attempt… two, four, zero, seven. Twenty-fourth of July, the date we got married.

I pull out everything inside. My wedding and engagement rings that I sent back to him via our solicitors, as well as some other jewellery and a whole stack of paperwork.

I carry everything out to the bed and sit and go through it. There are share certificates, insurance and mortgage paperwork and all sorts of other boring stuff. I pull out my passport and pick up the paperwork when a letter catches my eye. The sender’s address is printed across the top of the envelope, it’s from a Harley Street day surgery unit. I pull out the letter and start to read.

As what I’m reading starts to sink in, the words begin to move around the page. My hand covers my mouth as I’m actually afraid I’m going to vomit. I look from the page to Conner, who’s talking on the phone, he looks thoroughly pissed off and is only just not shouting.

I’m not sure how I feel at this moment. Totally and utterly betrayed or completely overjoyed. As I wait for Conner to finish his call, I go through a range of emotions, causing my body to feel hot, cold and tingly. I feel angry, sad, happy, disappointed and elated all at once.

Conner ends his call.

“We need to go to the police. Right now, Meebs. We need to go to the police and get this fucker arrested.”

“He had a vasectomy.”

Conner steps toward me, looking as confused at my words, as I do at his.

“What? Who?” he asks.

“Marcus, over a year ago, he had a vasectomy. All this time, Con, he made me feel bad. He made me believe that it was all my fault that I didn’t fall pregnant. All those threats he made at the hospital, knowing the whole time the baby wasn’t his. The baby’s not his Con.”

“The baby’s ours,” he almost sighs the words, before wrapping his arms around me. “We’re having a baby, Meebs. We’re having a fucking baby.”

And there, in the most unlikely of places, our happily ever after starts to come together.

“Shall we shag on his bed?” he whispers in my ear.

“You’re twisted, Conner Reed.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Nina Amoeba.”

As tempted as I am, I just want to get out of here now.

And then my heart skips a beat as I hear a car pull up on the drive. Looking out of the window, I can see that it’s Marcus and he’s already getting out of the car.