"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.

The rain began to fall in sheets as the SUV cut through the winding roads of the historic district. Beside me, Vance sat frozen, his eyes fixed on the rain-slicked asphalt ahead.

My mind was racing back to the afternoon on the gravel road.

Tessa’s laughter echoing in the luxury cabin of my car. The crumpled twenty-dollar bill fluttering into the mud. Maren’s face—pale, hollowed by hunger and exhaustion, yet holding an unbearable, dignified pity as she looked at me.

She hadn’t pitied herself. She had pitied me. She had looked at the powerful CEO in his tailor-made suit and seen a blind fool who had handed his life over to a family of snakes.

I pulled up to the gated entrance of Dr. Julian Vance’s private residence in Northwood. The iron gates were topped with brass spears, guarding a sprawling stone mansion framed by ancient weeping willows.

“Use the gate code,” I ordered Vance.

With shaking fingers, the investigator reached through the lowered window and tapped six digits into the brass keypad. The heavy gates swung open with a low groan.

We parked near the fountain in the circular driveway. I didn’t wait for Vance; I grabbed him by the elbow and hauled him up the marble steps toward the front porch. Before we could ring the bell, the heavy mahogany door opened.

A man in a silk dressing gown stepped out, holding a glass of scotch. Dr. Julian Vance stopped dead when he saw his brother flanked by me.

“Arthur?” Julian frowned, his eyes narrowing. “What is this? It’s past eleven o’clock—”

I shoved Arthur forward, stepping past the threshold and slamming the massive front door behind us. The lock clicked shut with a sharp, heavy thud.

“Rowan Sterling,” Julian breathed, the scotch sloshing over the brim of his crystal glass as he took a step back. “What... what are you doing here?”

“I just came from your brother’s safe, Doctor,” I said smoothly, pulling the blue folder from inside my rain-soaked coat and dropping it onto the marble foyer table. “I brought your medical records. The ones where you declared my living son stillborn.”

Julian’s face went chalk-white. He looked at Arthur with pure, unadulterated venom. “You kept copies? You absolute idiot, Arthur! I told you to burn everything!”

“He forced his way in, Julian!” Arthur wept, slumping against a decorative pillar. “He knows! He knows about the third baby!”

I stepped into Julian’s personal space, taking the crystal glass from his trembling fingers and setting it down.

“You have thirty seconds to tell me where my son is,” I said softly. “If you lie to me, I’m calling the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the State Medical Board, and every local news outlet in the tri-state area. Your career, your mansion, and your freedom will vanish before sunrise.”

Julian swallowed hard, his throat making a dry clicking sound. “Rowan... you don’t understand the leverage Richard Whitmore has over this county. He controls the hospital board. When Maren came in, she was already severely malnourished. She was weak. Richard came to my office personally while she was in labor.”

“Where is the boy?” I roared, grabbing the doctor by his lapels and slamming him back against the wall.

“He’s with Tessa!” Julian screamed, shutting his eyes in terror. “Tessa couldn’t have children! That’s why she needed Maren out of the picture! The Whitmores didn’t just want your company, Rowan—they wanted your heir! They took the boy and registered him under a private adoption agency in Switzerland!”

The air left my lungs as if I’d been kicked by a horse.

Tessa didn’t just want me for my wealth. She had stolen my child from his mother’s body, hidden him in Europe under a fake name, and then spent the last year pretending to be the supportive, loving fiancée waiting to marry me.

“Where in Switzerland?” I demanded, squeezing his collar tighter.

“I don’t have the address!” Julian choked out. “Only Tessa and her father have the ledger! But... but the child is coming back to the state next week! They’re bringing him to the Whitmore estate for the wedding celebration! They were going to present him to you after the ceremony as an ‘adopted’ orphan from an overseas charity!”

A sickening wave of nausea washed over me. They were going to make me raise my own stolen son, completely ignorant of his true mother, while Maren starved on the streets with his twin brother and sister.

I released Julian, letting him crumple to the floor.

“Arthur,” I said, turning to the investigator. “You’re going to sit at your brother’s desk right now and write a detailed, sworn affidavit detailing every transaction, every forged document, and every threat made by the Whitmore family.”

“And if I don’t?” Arthur whimpered.