Chapter 2

It all came back to me. For the past two years, Liam had been making frequent trips to a private clinic, returning each time with a face so pale it was frightening. He never said why, and I never dared ask.

Once, in his study, I'd caught a glimpse of a report before he snatched it away. One word stuck with me: azoospermia.

Back then, I didn't think much of it, assuming it was a routine physical. But now, as I pieced the fragments together, the full picture emerged.

The frequent clinic visits. Liam's silence about children. The way he deliberately shut down any conversation about heirs. If the diagnosis was real, then the baby growing inside me was the only child he could have.

"Economy passengers, please proceed to board." The announcement came again.

The line had reached the jet bridge entrance. The gate agent jerked his chin at me. "Ma'am, your boarding pass."

I looked down at the crumpled paper in my hand, then at my belly.

The kid inside me threw in the clincher. "Mom, if you get on that plane, you're handing those hundreds of billions to Yvonne on a silver platter. She's waiting for Liam to kick the bucket.

"Then the whole Quinn empire ends up in her pocket. We can't let her get her way."

I took a deep breath. Then, under the staff member's confused gaze, I tore up my boarding pass.

The scraps fluttered down between my fingers, covering the gleaming tiles like a mini snowstorm.

The staff member was stunned. "Ma'am? You—"

I crouched to grab my carry-on handle, turned around, and walked back without looking over my shoulder.

My strides were long. So long that the seams of my jeans pulled tight.

The little one cheered. "That's right, Mom. That's how you do it. We're going home to claim the inheritance. I might not be fully baked yet, but I've got brains. Ask me anything you don't get."

I stood in the airport restroom for five minutes, staring at myself in the mirror.

My hair was pulled back in a hasty ponytail, my face completely bare of makeup, dark circles smudged beneath my eyes, my lips cracked and peeling.

Two years. Two years as a stand-in, and I'd become nothing but a shadow.

Yvonne liked white, so I wore white. She avoided spice, so I gave up spicy food. She played piano, so I learned the piano. Two years in, and I still could only stumble through Für Elise.

Every time Liam heard me play, he'd furrow his brows so tight that they could've crushed a fly. But he never said a word.

He only sat on the sofa with a glass in hand, his gaze passing straight through me, fixed on something far away.

He wasn't looking at me. He never was.

I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. The chill snapped me back to reality.

I told myself, "Sylvia, listen up. You're not going back because you can't let go of Liam, or because you want to be some trophy wife.

"You're going back because there's a baby inside you. If the kid is telling the truth, this child is the Quinn family's only bloodline. This is your bargaining chip, yours and the baby's. It's also your leverage."

The baby urged, "Mom, what are you waiting for? Let's move. You calling a cab or what?"

I dried my face, dug my phone out of my bag, opened the rideshare app, and typed in the destination: 1 Blossom Street, Sunrise Heights.

It was where the Quinn residence was located.

The estimated fare was 150 bucks.

I hesitated for a second. Then again, the fare was coming out of the settlement. No loss.

The car arrived fast. It was a black sedan. The driver was a chatty middle-aged guy. The moment I got in, he started talking. "Miss, not taking your flight this late?"

"Not anymore," I replied.

"Did your flight get canceled?"

"No." I buckled my seatbelt, leaned back against the headrest, and closed my eyes. "I changed my mind."

The little one in my belly let out a satisfied hum. "That's the spirit. Don't worry, Mom. With me around, you'll be living large. No matter how powerful Liam thinks he is, he's no match for us."

I ignored it.

Streetlights streaked past the window one by one. This city never got dark.

Forty minutes later, the car pulled up at the corner of Blossom Street.

Rideshare vehicles weren't allowed past the main gate of the Quinn residence. Armed security and facial recognition guarded the entrance. But my face was still in the system.

Peter had told me to move out today, but he never said they'd wipe my biometric data today.

The Quinn family's efficiency, it seemed, wasn't all it was cracked up to be.