"Buy the bastards some milk," my wealthy fiancée laughed, flipping a twenty-dollar bill toward my ex-wife. I'd thrown her out of my life a year ago after believing she had cheated on me.

Finding a woman who doesn't want to be found in a city of millions is difficult. Finding a disgraced, penniless mother hiding in the rural backwaters of the county is a nightmare.

For three days, I didn't sleep. I didn't return to the penthouse I shared with Tessa. I left a short text message claiming I was tied up in emergency board meetings regarding the upcoming merger with Whitmore Enterprises. In reality, I had hired an elite team of off-grid private investigators—men who owed loyalty only to money and possessed no ties to Tessa’s powerful family.

We traced the dusty gravel road where I had seen Maren. It led past abandoned lumber mills, decaying farmhouses, and overgrown pastures.

"She’s staying at the old Miller property, boss," my lead investigator, Vance’s former mentor named Briggs, reported as we sat in an unmarked black sedan parked under the shade of an oak tree. "It’s a condemned sharecropper's cabin with no running water and electricity pulled from a generator. She pays fifty dollars a week to a local farmer just to keep a roof over those kids."

My chest tightened until it felt like my ribs would snap. The woman who used to design high-end architectural blueprints, the woman who laughed under crystal chandeliers in our lake house, was living in a condemned shack without running water. And I was the monster who had put her there because I was too blind, too arrogant, and too easily manipulated to believe her innocence.

"Stay here," I commanded Briggs. "Do not let anyone approach."

I stepped out of the car, my polished designer shoes sinking into the mud and gravel. As I walked up the cracked wooden steps of the porch, the soft sound of a lullaby drifted through the screen door.

It was a quiet, heartbreaking melody Maren used to hum whenever she was working late at her drafting table.

I pushed the creaking door open slowly.

The room was nearly empty. A single kerosene lamp lit the small space. In the corner sat two makeshift cribs made from padded wooden crates. And sitting on a worn mattress on the floor was Maren, gently rocking a small blue plastic basin of warm water to wash the dust from her daughter's tiny feet.

She didn't startle when I walked in. She slowly placed the cloth back into the basin and stood up. She wore an oversized, faded flannel shirt and frayed jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a loose knot, and her face was drawn and pale, but her eyes held that same terrifying, quiet dignity I had seen on the road.

"You shouldn't be here, Rowan," she said softly, her voice raspy from exhaustion. "Tessa’s scouts watch this road sometimes. If she sees your car here, she'll lower the rent allowance the farmer gives me."

"Maren..." My voice cracked. I took a step toward her, but she didn't step back. She just stood her ground, looking at me with that unbearable pity.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I choked out, tears finally breaking through my composure. "I threw you out. I ruined your life. Why don't you hate me?"

Maren looked down at her hands, raw and red from manual labor and harsh soap. "Because I knew you were being played, Rowan. You were always so proud, so convinced of your own judgment. Tessa knew exactly which buttons to push to make you tear your own life down. I didn't hate you. I felt sorry for you because I knew that one day, you would wake up and realize what you helped her do."

I fell to my knees on the cold floorboards before her. The CEO of Cole International, worth hundreds of millions, kneeling in the dirt at the feet of the woman he had destroyed.

"I know," I sobbed, pressing my forehead against her worn shoes. "I found the real files, Maren. I found Vance’s safe. I know about the setup. I know about everything."

Maren went deathly still. The room fell into a quiet so deep you could hear the soft, synchronized breathing of the two babies sleeping in the wooden crates.

"You... you know?" she whispered.

"Yes," I rasped, looking up into her eyes. "And I know about the third baby."