Chapter 3

The next morning, I walked into the penthouse kitchen to find Elena sitting at my chair, eating breakfast off my plates, wearing my silk robe.

She didn't even look up.

"Oh, you're still here? I told Dominic to change the locks."

I set the baby's carrier on the counter and poured myself coffee. Decaf. My hands were perfectly steady.

"He can't change the locks. My name's on the deed."

She finally looked at me, her eyes narrowing.

"You know, you're a lot more annoying than the last surrogate he considered. She at least had the decency to cry."

"The last surrogate?"

"Mm. Before you, there were two others. One backed out. One... didn't pass the medical screening." She smiled. "Dominic goes through people like tissues. You should know that by now."

I sipped my coffee. "Is that what he told you about me? That I'm disposable?"

"Aren't you?" She tilted her head, genuinely curious. "You're a nobody from Queens with no family, no connections, no money. The only valuable thing you've ever produced is currently sleeping in that carrier. Once Dominic gets custody, what exactly do you have left?"

Every word was designed to cut. And she was good at it — I'd give her that.

But she'd made a critical mistake.

She thought I was a nobody.

"You're right," I said mildly. "I don't have much. Just this."

I pulled out my phone and showed her a single document.

A court filing. Stamped yesterday. Petition to Unseal Birth Records — Vivienne Langford.

She stared at it. Blinked. Read it again.

The color left her face so fast it was almost satisfying.

"Langford?" she breathed. "That's... no. That's not possible. The Langford heir died twenty years ago."

"Funny how death certificates can be forged," I said. "Your father would know all about that."

Her chair screeched as she stood up.

"You're lying. This is fake. Dominic!" she screamed down the hall. "DOMINIC!"

He appeared in the doorway, still buttoning his shirt, his hair wet from the shower. His eyes went from Elena's white face to my calm one.

"What's going on?"

Elena snatched my phone and shoved it at him. "Look at this. She's claiming to be a Langford. She's insane."

Dominic read the filing. Once. Twice.

Then he looked at me with an expression I'd never seen before.

It wasn't the cold detachment of a man managing a contract.

It wasn't the irritated impatience he'd shown me since Elena arrived.

It was the look of a man who'd just realized he was standing on a landmine.

"Is this real?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"You'll find out soon enough," I said. "The court hearing is in seventy-two hours."

I picked up the baby carrier and walked past him.

At the doorway, I stopped.

"Oh, and Dominic? You might want to re-read our marriage contract. Specifically, the clause about asset division in the event of divorce."

"I wrote that clause too."

I left him standing there, Elena clawing at his arm, his face the color of ash.

That afternoon, Marcus called.

"It's done. The DNA confirmation is back. You're a 99.97% match to Arthur Langford's bloodline. The court will unseal your birth certificate at the hearing."

"And my grandfather?"

A pause. "He knows, Vivienne. I told him this morning."

My heart seized. "What did he say?"

"He cried. He said he's been looking for you for twenty years. He thought you were dead. He wants to see you immediately."

My eyes burned, but I didn't let myself cry. Not yet.

"Tell him I'll come. But first, I need to finish what I started."

"Vivienne — your grandfather is dying. The doctors say weeks, maybe less. Don't wait too long."

The line went quiet.

I stood in the nursery, holding my son, and felt the weight of twenty years of stolen time pressing down on my chest.

My grandfather was alive. He wanted me. He'd been looking for me.

And the people who'd stolen me from him were sleeping down the hall.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

"I know who you are. Drop the court case, or you and your baby won't make it to the hearing."

I stared at the screen.

Richard knew.