Chapter 4

I sat across from my father in his private study at our family's Manhattan brownstone, my hands trembling slightly as I spread out the evidence I'd collected. Photos of Ethan with Maya. Screenshots of their text messages. The ultrasound image Maya had taunted me with.

"Bastard," my father muttered, his normally composed demeanor cracking as he examined each piece. Richard Morrison was not a man who showed emotion easily, but the muscle twitching in his jaw betrayed his fury. "And you're certain about the pregnancy?"

"Eight weeks," I confirmed, my hand instinctively moving to my still-flat stomach. "No one knows…