Chapter 2

The car arrived at 6 AM — not the one Julian had arranged, but a black armored SUV with tinted windows and diplomatic plates. Dominic Ashford didn't do anything small. The irony wasn't lost on me. He was Vivienne's older brother, and he despised Julian Cross with every fiber of his being.

I clutched my baby — I'd been calling him Theo in my head, though he had no legal name yet — and climbed into the backseat. Dominic sat across from me, his dark suit immaculate, his expression unreadable. His eyes, the same startling green as his sister's, softened when they landed on the baby.

"You look terrible," he said.

"I almost died yesterday."

"I know." His jaw clenched. "I had someone at the hospital. When they told me Julian didn't even pause his dinner reservation, I nearly came myself."

The SUV pulled away from the hospital, smooth and fast. My heart hammered as we passed the front entrance, where Julian's driver was already parked, waiting to escort me to the airport — alone, baby-less, discarded.

"He'll come after me," I said, my voice shaking. "The contract gives him full custody."

Dominic's eyes hardened. "The contract was signed under duress, drafted by his lawyers with no independent counsel present, and includes a clause that waives your parental rights in exchange for payment. In any legitimate court, it's unconscionable." He paused. "I have seven lawyers who agree."

Relief flooded me so hard I nearly sobbed. But I held it together. I'd learned, over nine months in Julian Cross's orbit, that tears were a currency that bought nothing.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked.

Dominic looked out the window. The Manhattan skyline glittered like a promise that was never meant for people like me. "Because my sister is not well, Elara. Not in the way Julian thinks. And the child she's planning to raise as her own deserves to know who his real mother is."

Before I could press further, my phone erupted. Julian. Seven calls in two minutes. Then a text:

"Where is my son?"

Then another:

"Elara, if you've done something stupid, I will end you."

Then a voicemail, his voice vibrating with barely contained fury: "You have one hour to bring him back. After that, I'm calling the police, my lawyers, and every contact I have. You will never see daylight again."

Dominic glanced at my screen and said, calmly, "Turn it off."

I did. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Somewhere he can't reach you." He leaned forward. "My estate in Geneva. Private security. Full legal team on-site. And a pediatrician who won't report to Julian's people."

I stared at him. "You planned this."

"I planned for the possibility." His gaze held mine, steady and intense. "I've been watching Julian destroy people for years. I wasn't going to let him destroy you."

Theo stirred in my arms, letting out a soft, mewling cry. I rocked him gently, and for the first time in nine months, I felt something other than fear.

But as the SUV merged onto the highway, my phone — powered off — suddenly lit up on its own. A single message appeared on the lock screen, from a number I didn't recognize:

"Dominic Ashford is not who you think he is. Ask him about Project Gemini."

My blood turned to ice. I looked up at Dominic, who was watching me with an expression I couldn't read.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

I forced a smile. "Fine."

But nothing was fine. And I had the sinking feeling I'd just traded one cage for another.