“And while they kept me doped up and grieving a phantom miscarriage in that hospital… Evans took my eggs,” Victoria said, her stomach churning violently.
“Marcus used an anonymous surrogate in Zurich,” Julian continued. “He raised the child in complete isolation on our family’s private coastal estate in Newport, waiting until the boy turned four—the legal age required for trust inheritance activation.”
Victoria closed her eyes, imagining a four-year-old boy living behind high stone walls, surrounded by armed guards and corporate lawyers, never knowing his mother’s touch.
“What is he like?” Victoria asked softly, a single tear escaping down her cheek. “Have you seen him, Julian?”
Julian hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly.
“Once,” Julian admitted. “Two months ago, before I knew who his mother was. I went to Newport to inspect the estate grounds.
”
Julian reached into his wallet and pulled out a small, candid photograph.
He slid it across the marble counter toward Victoria.
A little boy with dark, unruly curls sat on a green lawn overlooking the ocean, holding a charcoal pencil against an oversized drawing pad.
He had Marcus’s high brow, but his eyes were wide, luminous, and intensely blue.
They were Victoria’s eyes.
“His name is Leo,” Julian said gently.
Chap 16
The Hamptons estate of the Sterling family rose against the night sky like an ancient French chateau carved from gray granite.
Dozens of luxury limousines lined the long, cobblestone driveway, their headlights reflecting off the manicured hedges and marble fountains.
Paparazzi flashes erupted behind velvet security ropes as Wall Street titans, foreign diplomats, and high-society elites arrived in black-tie attire.
Inside the grand ballroom, chandeliers of Venetian crystal cast a warm, deceptive glow over the gathering wolves.
Victoria stepped out of a private black sedan, wearing a breathtaking gown of midnight-blue silk with a dramatic split up the leg.
Her dark hair was swept up into an elegant chignon, secured by an antique silver hairpin that Julian had given her an hour earlier.
The hairpin hid a micro-transmitter and a reinforced tungsten lock-pick.
“Remember the plan,” Julian whispered in her ear as he escorted her up the grand marble stairs, dressed in a flawless tuxedo. “Marcus has the boy locked in the private third-floor master wing.”
“Where is Sophia?” Victoria asked quietly, scanning the crowded foyer.
“She’s monitoring the estate’s security grid from the mobile command van two miles down the coast,
” Julian assured her. “At exactly ten o’clock, she will trigger a false fire alarm in the west conservatory.”
“That gives me five minutes to get to the third floor,” Victoria murmured.
“I will be right behind you,” Julian promised, pressing his hand against the small of her back. “Stay calm. Don’t look at Marcus until you have to.”
As they crossed the threshold into the ballroom, a hush fell over the surrounding crowd.
Whispers spread like wildfire through the room.
“Isn’t that Harrison’s former wife?” an elderly socialite whispered behind a diamond-encrusted fan. “The one who lost her mind over the pregnancy?”
“She looks completely sane to me,” a venture capitalist replied in a hushed tone. “And extraordinarily wealthy.”
Across the crowded dance floor, standing near the towering marble fireplace,
was Eleanor Sterling—the eighty-year-old matriarch of the family and Marcus’s fiercest ally.
Draped in emeralds and draped in bitter pride, Eleanor glared at Victoria with eyes like polished flint.
Victoria held her gaze without blinking, her chin lifted high, radiating an undeniable aura of power and grace.
Suddenly, the orchestra ceased playing.
A heavy spotlight shifted from the dance floor to the grand curved staircase leading down from the mezzanine.
Marcus Sterling stepped into the light, looking immaculate in a tailored white-tie tuxedo.
He raised a champagne flute, his face beaming with the calculated charm of a seasoned predator.
“Distinguished guests, family, and honored friends,” Marcus announced, his voice carrying effortlessly across the silent ballroom. “Tonight, we celebrate not only our century of global commerce, but the continuation of our bloodline.”
The ballroom erupted into polite applause.
“Four years ago, under tragic circumstances that required utmost privacy, a gift was given to this family,” Marcus continued, gesturing toward the top of the stairs. “A son. An heir.”
A side door on the mezzanine opened.
A uniformed nanny led a small boy dressed in a miniature black velvet suit onto the balcony.
Leo looked terrified, his small hands clutching the gold balustrade as hundreds of strangers stared up at him.
Victoria’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart screamed to run up those stairs and tear down the velvet ropes with her bare hands.
“Patience,” Julian hissed softly, holding her arm with a firm, steadying grip. “Wait for the alarm.”
Marcus looked directly down at Victoria from the mezzanine, his lips curling into an arrogant, victorious sneer.
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