Chapter 2
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Grace Bennett lay against the concrete wall, one arm wrapped around her stomach.
Her dark hair was tangled.
Her cheeks were hollow.
Her clothes were damp from the evening air.
But I knew her face.
I would have recognized it anywhere.
"Grace?"
My voice cracked.
She slowly opened her eyes.
For a moment, she stared at me without recognition.
Then her expression changed.
"Damon?"
Hope dropped beside her.
"Mama, I brought cake!"
She held out the porcelain plate with both hands.
Grace tried to sit up.
She couldn't.
I knelt immediately.
"Don't move."
Her eyes widened.
"Damon, what are you doing here?"
I looked at her.
Then at Hope.
My mind was racing.
Six years earlier, Grace had been the woman I planned to marry.
She was gentle.
Funny.
Stubborn.
And the only person who had ever loved me before the world knew my name.
We met when I was twenty-five.
I was building my first technology company.
Most nights, I slept on a mattress in a rented office.
Grace worked as a nurse's assistant.
She brought me sandwiches when I forgot to eat.
She believed in my dreams long before investors did.
And when my first major contract failed, she stayed beside me.
Then everything fell apart.
My business partner accused Grace of stealing confidential company files.
Evidence appeared on a computer linked to her account.
The police investigated.
My company nearly collapsed.
And I was told that Grace had betrayed me for money.
I wanted to believe she was innocent.
But every person around me insisted otherwise.
Even my attorney.
Even my closest friend.
Eventually, I confronted her.
She denied everything.
She cried.
She begged me to believe her.
But I was young, frightened, and convinced that trusting her would destroy the company I'd spent years building.
I walked away.
I never forgot the look on her face.
And now she was lying on the ground beside a charity gala.
With a little girl who looked painfully familiar.
"Hope, sweetheart," I said, "an ambulance is coming."
Grace grabbed my wrist.
"No."
Her voice was weak.
"Please. We can't afford it."
I stared at her.
"Grace, you're sick."
"We don't have insurance."
"I'll cover everything."
She shook her head.
"No, Damon."
I leaned closer.
"Please don't fight me on this."
She closed her eyes.
Hope began crying.
"Mama, please."
Grace looked at her daughter.
Then she finally nodded.
I pulled off my jacket and placed it around Grace's shoulders.
A security guard approached.
"The ambulance is on its way, Mr. Cross."
"Good."
I looked toward the garden.
The music had resumed.
I could hear faint applause.
Someone was still making a speech.
The contrast made me furious.
A woman was collapsing beside a wall while wealthy guests congratulated themselves for helping people like her.
I turned to the guard.
"Bring water and blankets. And tell the event staff nobody is to interfere with the emergency responders."
He nodded.
Hope sat beside Grace, holding the cake plate.
I watched her carefully.
Her curls.
Her dark eyes.
The small dimple in her left cheek.
It was the same dimple my mother had.
My heartbeat quickened.
I looked at Grace.
Then back at the little girl.
"Hope, how old are you?"
She lifted five fingers.
"Five."
I swallowed.
Five.
Grace and I had separated nearly six years ago.
My mind began calculating dates.
I didn't want to.
But I couldn't stop.
"Grace," I whispered.
She looked at me.
I glanced at Hope.
Her eyes filled immediately.
"Damon."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Is she—"
Grace shook her head.
"Not now."
The answer told me more than I wanted to know.
I looked down at Hope.
She was trying to break the cake into two pieces with her fingers.
"Here, Mama."
She offered Grace the larger half.
My throat tightened.
"Hope, why don't you eat yours?"
She shook her head.
"Mama needs it more."
I closed my eyes.
I had spent years building companies worth billions.
I owned three houses.
Two private planes.
And a collection of cars I barely drove.
But this little girl was sharing the only food she had because her mother was hungry.
I had never felt so ashamed.
The ambulance arrived minutes later.
Paramedics examined Grace and carefully helped her onto a stretcher.
Hope panicked.
"Don't take my mama!"
I knelt beside her.
"Sweetheart, they're taking her to the hospital so she can get better."
Her little face crumpled.
"Can I go?"
"Yes."
She looked at me.
"Will you come too?"
I didn't hesitate.
"Absolutely."
At the hospital, doctors began evaluating Grace.
They explained that she was severely dehydrated, undernourished, and suffering from a respiratory infection.
She needed treatment and observation.
Hope sat beside me in the waiting room.
She had finally eaten her cake.
Now she was falling asleep against my arm.
I carefully lifted her onto my lap.
She didn't resist.
Within minutes, she was asleep.
I looked down at her.
And the resemblance became impossible to ignore.
Her eyebrows.
Her smile.
The little dimple.
I felt something painful moving through my chest.
A possibility.
A truth.
A fear.
I wasn't ready to say it aloud.
Around midnight, a nurse approached.
"Mr. Cross?"
I stood carefully, holding Hope.
"How is Grace?"
"She's stable. The doctor would like to speak with you."
Relief washed over me.
I followed her into a consultation room.
The doctor explained that Grace needed continued treatment, proper nutrition, and follow-up care.
Her condition was serious but manageable.
I asked about the hospital expenses.
The doctor directed me to the appropriate staff.
I arranged to cover the costs.
Then I asked whether I could see her.
Grace was awake when I entered.
She looked exhausted.
But her eyes were clear.
Hope remained asleep in my arms.
Grace saw her.
Then she saw me.
Tears filled her eyes.
"Thank you for helping her."
I sat beside the bed.
"You don't have to thank me."
She looked away.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked the question that had been burning inside me.
"Grace, is Hope my daughter?"
She closed her eyes.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
I felt my heart pounding.
"Please."
She opened her eyes.
"Yes."
The word hit me harder than anything I'd ever heard.
I stared at her.
She continued.
"Hope is your daughter, Damon."
I looked down at the sleeping child in my arms.
My daughter.
I had a daughter.
For five years, she had been living somewhere without me.
Hungry.
Barefoot.
Afraid.
I could barely breathe.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Grace's face twisted with pain.
"I tried."
I looked up.
"What?"
"I tried to contact you when I found out I was pregnant."
My stomach tightened.
"Grace, I never heard from you."
She shook her head.
"I sent letters. I called your office. I even went to your building."
I stared at her.
"What happened?"
Her voice trembled.
"Your assistant told me you didn't want anything to do with me."
I felt cold.
"My assistant?"
She nodded.
"He said you knew about the baby and wanted me to stay away."
I stared at her.
"Who?"
Grace hesitated.
Then whispered a name.
"Victor Hale."
My business partner.
The man who had accused Grace of stealing.
The man who had helped me build Cross Technologies.
The man who had stood beside me through every major business victory.
I slowly lowered my eyes toward Hope.
Then looked back at Grace.
"Victor told you that?"
She nodded.
"He said you were prepared to take legal action if I contacted you again."
My hands began trembling.
I remembered Victor telling me that Grace had disappeared after the investigation.
That she had taken money and left the state.
That she wanted nothing more to do with me.
I had believed him.
For six years.
I looked at Grace.
"Do you still have those letters?"
She nodded slowly.
"Copies."
My heartbeat quickened.
"Where?"
Her expression changed.
"At the shelter."
I stared at her.
"Shelter?"
She lowered her eyes.
"Hope and I have been staying at a temporary shelter."
The room seemed to tilt.
My daughter had been living in a shelter.
While I lived in a mansion.
And Victor had known she existed.
I looked toward the sleeping little girl.
Then I made a silent promise.
Whatever it took, I was going to uncover the truth.
But before I could say anything, my phone vibrated.
A message appeared from Victor.
"Excellent speech tonight. Elisa says the gala raised four million."
I stared at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
"One more thing. I heard you left with a woman and a child. Call me before you do anything foolish."
May you like
My blood ran cold.
Because Victor already knew.
