“Vivian,” he said, voice trembling, “I need to tell you something about Julian.”
I already knew it would change everything.
Dr. Thorne sat beside my bed like a man preparing to confess a sin.
“Julian is my son,” he said.
The heart monitor beeped steadily beside me. My baby sighed in his sleep.
I stared at him. “Your son?”
He nodded, shame folding his face. “Eleanor and I divorced when Julian was five. She erased me from his life. Told him I left because I didn’t want him. I spent years trying to reach him. Every letter came back. Every call blocked.”
“Why didn’t he recognize you?”
“He did,” Marcus said. “He just hates the truth.”
I looked down at my son. “Then why did you cry?”
Marcus swallowed. “Because your baby has the same birthmark Julian had. The same one I had. And because I realized my grandson had been brought into the world by a woman my family tried to destroy.”
The next morning, Julian returned with two lawyers.
Eleanor came dressed in black, like she was attending my funeral.
Their lawyer placed papers on my tray. “Ms. Brooks, considering your unstable financial condition, we suggest you sign voluntarily. It will look better in court.”
I lifted my son into my arms. “You mean better than extortion?”
Julian laughed. “You have no case.”
The door opened.
My attorney, Chloe Park, walked in wearing a gray suit and the kind of calm that ruins powerful men. Behind her were two hospital administrators and a police detective.
Chloe placed a tablet on the table. “Actually, she has several.”
Julian froze.
