The priest asked the child’s father to step forward, and my husband walked toward the altar while my cousin stood beside him holding the baby

For a long moment, the only sound in the grand sitting room was the crackle of the fireplace and the steady patter of rain against the bay windows. Evelyn stared at the open ledger, her hands suddenly shaking so badly she could barely keep them folded.

"Where is she, Evelyn?" I demanded, closing the distance between us until I was towering over her armchair. "What did you do to my daughter?"

"Claire, listen to me," Evelyn stammered, her regal composure fracturing into panic. "The Harringtons... they lost their own child during childbirth. Eleanor Harrington was suicidal. They had billions, but they couldn't conceive. Ethan owed debts—gambling debts in Macau that would have ruined the entire Vance family name if they became public!"

"So you paid his debts with my child’s life?!" I screamed, hot tears burning my cheeks. "You let him take my flesh and blood and sell her like property!"

"It was for the family!" Evelyn cried out, rising to her feet. "The Harringtons gave her a life of luxury you could never provide! She is treated like a princess! What was I supposed to do? Let the loan sharks destroy everything your father built?"

"You disgust me," I said, my voice turning to ice. "My father would have burned every dollar he owned before selling his grandchild."

Behind me, the door opened, and Uncle Richard stepped in, flanked by two detectives. His face was pale with sorrow as he looked at his own sister.

"Richard..." Evelyn gasped, looking at her brother for support. "Richard, tell her. Tell her we did what we had to do to save the family business."

"You didn't save the family, Evelyn," Richard said quietly, looking away in shame. "You destroyed it. Detectives, take her in. She has confessed to accessory to human trafficking and medical fraud."

As the officers escorted my aunt out into the storm, she turned back, screaming at me: "You'll never get her back, Claire! Arthur Harrington owns the judges in this state! You’ll lose Oliver too if you cross him!"

The heavy door slammed shut.

Silence fell over the room once more. I walked over to the carrier and gently lifted Oliver into my arms. He stirred, letting out a small whimper before settling his cheek against my neck.

"We have the name of the clinic," Julian said, his voice low and steady. "St. Jude in Maine. If we move tonight, we can secure the medical records before Harrington’s legal team can scrub them."