Chapter 4: The Little Girl Who Called My Husband Daddy
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Marcus stood beside the conference room table, his expression unusually tense.
“What did you mean by Claire's medical records?”” I asked.
He glanced toward the closed door.
“There's something about her history that Nolan didn't want you to discover through someone else.””
“Then tell me.””
Marcus hesitated.
“Claire's daughter is named Lily. She's seven years old. Her biological father disappeared shortly after she was born, and Nolan became involved in her care when Claire was admitted to Fernwood.””
I folded my arms.
“That's not an explanation.””
“No. It isn't.””
He pulled out his phone.
“There's a reason Nolan has been paying for her treatment personally. But I think you should speak to Claire before I tell you anything else.””
I stared at him.
“Where is she?””
“Room 418.””
I didn't move.
“Marcus, if you're protecting something, I need you to tell me now.””
He looked directly at me.
“I'm not protecting Nolan. I'm trying to protect you from making a decision based on half a story.””
I almost laughed.
“Half a story? I've been living inside half a story for nine months.””
I grabbed the notebook and walked out.
The oncology wing was quieter than the rest of Fernwood. Soft instrumental music played through ceiling speakers, and the smell of disinfectant mixed with something faintly floral.
Room 418 was near the end of the corridor.
I stopped outside the door.
Through the narrow window, I saw a young woman sitting upright in bed. She had dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail and a pale face that made her eyes appear unusually large.
A little girl sat beside her, coloring in a book.
I knocked.
The woman looked up.
“Yes?””
I opened the door slightly.
“Are you Claire?””
Her expression changed.
“Who are you?””
“I'm Emily. Nolan's wife.””
The crayon slipped from the little girl's fingers.
Claire went completely still.
“Oh.””
That single word told me she knew exactly why I'd come.
I stepped inside.
“Can we talk?””
Claire glanced at Lily.
“Sweetheart, why don't you finish your picture?””
Lily looked between us.
“Is she Daddy Nolan's wife?””
My heart dropped.
Claire closed her eyes.
“Lily.””
The little girl picked up her crayon again.
“But she is, isn't she?””
I looked at Claire.
She nodded slowly.
“Yes. I'm his wife.””
Lily studied me with surprising seriousness.
“Are you mad at him?””
I couldn't answer.
Claire gently touched her daughter's shoulder.
“Lily, please.””
The little girl returned to her coloring.
I pulled a chair closer to the bed.
“I found a letter.””
Claire's fingers tightened around the blanket.
“What did it say?””
“That Nolan has been visiting you. That he's been paying for your treatment. And that your daughter calls him Daddy.””
Claire looked down.
“I'm sorry.””
I swallowed.
“Why?””
She blinked.
“Because I never wanted to hurt you.””
“Then help me understand.””
Claire looked toward Lily.
“When Nolan first met us, I was in terrible shape. I had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. My insurance had stopped covering several treatments, and I had almost run out of options.””
She paused.
“I was alone. My daughter had nowhere else to go when I was admitted, so a social worker arranged temporary childcare.””
I listened without interrupting.
“Nolan was assigned to my case. He spent hours explaining treatment options, talking to specialists, and trying to get me into a clinical program.””
“And he paid for everything?””
“Not at first.””
Claire took a breath.
“He helped me apply for assistance. He contacted charitable foundations. When those options weren't enough, he established a fund.””
I looked at her.
“Using his own money?””
She nodded.
“I didn't know that until much later.””
“Why would he do that?””
Claire's eyes filled.
“Because he understood what it felt like to have a family and be afraid of losing everything.””
I looked toward Lily.
The little girl was drawing a house with three stick figures.
A tall man.
A woman.
A little girl holding both their hands.
“Does Lily know Nolan isn't her father?””
Claire nodded.
“She knows he's not her biological father. But Nolan has been there for her in ways her real father never was.””
I looked down at my hands.
“How long has she been calling him Daddy?””
Claire wiped her cheek.
“Three months.””
The answer stung more than I expected.
Three months.
Three months of my husband coming home late, missing birthdays, and barely speaking to me.
Three months of another little girl waiting for him.
“Does he come here every day?””
“Not every day. But he calls. He brings books. He helps with her schoolwork.””
I stared at her.
“Does he tell her things about Hazel?””
Claire hesitated.
“Yes.””
“Like what?””
“That Hazel likes ballet. That she loves strawberry pancakes. That she once painted his fingernails pink.””
I looked away.
I remembered that afternoon.
Hazel had been five.
Nolan had walked around the house with bright pink fingernails for two days because he didn't want to disappoint her.
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Did he ever tell you he was married?””
Claire looked shocked.
“Of course.””
“Did he tell you about his diagnosis?””
She nodded.
“After he found out I was getting worse, he told me.””
I looked up sharply.
“He told you about his cancer before he told me?””
Claire's face crumpled.
“Yes.””
I stood.
For the first time, I understood why I'd been so angry when I read that letter.
It wasn't simply that Nolan had hidden something.
It was that he'd shared his deepest fears with a stranger while leaving his own wife outside the door.
Claire reached for my hand.
“Emily, I know how this sounds.””
I gently pulled away.
“I don't think you do.””
She lowered her eyes.
“He talked about you constantly. He showed me photographs of your wedding. He told Lily that Hazel was his greatest achievement.””
I looked at the little girl.
She had finished her drawing.
“Mommy?””
Claire turned.
“What is it, sweetheart?””
“Can I show her?””
Claire nodded.
Lily climbed down from the chair and walked toward me.
She held up the picture.
“This is Daddy Nolan.””
My throat tightened.
The man in the drawing had dark hair and a blue shirt.
“That's lovely,” I whispered.
Lily pointed to the little girl.
“That's me.””
Then she pointed to the other woman.
“That's Mommy.””
She looked up.
“Daddy says he has another little girl who lives with him. Her name is Hazel.””
I nodded.
“Yes.””
“Does Hazel know about me?””
I couldn't find my voice.
Lily's expression changed.
“Daddy said maybe one day we could meet.””
I looked at Claire.
She was crying silently.
I returned the picture to Lily.
“Maybe one day,” I managed.
Then I turned toward the door.
“Emily,” Claire called.
I stopped.
“There's something else.””
I closed my eyes.
“Of course there is.””
Claire reached toward the bedside drawer and removed a small envelope.
“Nolan asked me to keep this safe. He said if something happened to him, I should give it to his wife.””
I turned around.
“What is it?””
“Something he found out about his own diagnosis.””
She held out the envelope.
I took it.
My name was written across the front.
But beneath it was a second line.
About the treatment Nolan hasn't told you he's receiving.
I looked at Claire.
“What treatment?””
She shook her head.
“I don't know. He wouldn't explain it to me.””
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of a medical report.
At the top, beneath Nolan's name, was a date from three weeks earlier.
And beside the heading marked TREATMENT RESPONSE, someone had written a sentence in red ink.
*The current therapy is no longer producing the expected response.*
My knees nearly gave way.
Claire reached for my arm.
“Emily?””
I looked at the report.
Then at the little girl holding her drawing.
May you like
And suddenly, the question wasn't whether my husband had been hiding another family.
It was how much time he had left.
Related Stories
