Chapter 3
I didn't sleep that night.
I sat beside Hope in a hospital family room while she slept beneath a soft blanket.
Every few minutes, I looked at her.
I still couldn't believe she was real.
My daughter.
For five years, she'd existed somewhere in the world without me knowing.
She had learned to walk.
To talk.
To laugh.
To cry.
She had celebrated birthdays.
She had been sick.
She had been frightened.
And I had missed every moment.
I kept wondering how many nights she'd gone to bed hungry.
How many times Grace had told her everything would be okay when she didn't know whether it would.
The thought made me sick.
At six in the morning, Hope woke.
She rubbed her eyes.
Then looked around.
"Where's Mama?"
"She's resting."
Hope sat up.
"Is she better?"
"She's getting help."
She studied my face.
Then asked, "Are you the cake man?"
I almost laughed.
"Yes. I suppose I am."
She smiled.
"Thank you for the strawberries."
My throat tightened.
"You're welcome."
She looked down at the blanket.
"Can Mama have breakfast?"
"Absolutely."
Hope's eyes widened.
"Real breakfast?"
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
She counted on her fingers.
"Eggs. Toast. Maybe pancakes."
I nodded.
"All of those."
Her face lit up.
"Really?"
"Really."
She hesitated.
"Do we have to share one?"
I felt tears burn my eyes.
"No, sweetheart. You can have your own."
Hope smiled so brightly that I had to look away.
I called the hospital kitchen.
Then asked for breakfast to be sent to Grace's room as well.
When the food arrived, Hope stared at the tray.
Scrambled eggs.
Toast.
Fresh fruit.
Pancakes.
She looked at me.
"That's all mine?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
She picked up a strawberry.
Then carefully placed it on a napkin.
I frowned.
"What are you doing?"
"Saving it for Mama."
I smiled through the ache in my chest.
"Your mama has her own strawberries."
Hope looked shocked.
"She does?"
"Yes."
Then she laughed.
It was the most beautiful sound I'd heard in years.
Later that morning, I called my attorney, Rachel Morgan.
Rachel had worked with me since Cross Technologies became successful.
She was sharp, calm, and one of the few people who wasn't impressed by my money.
"Damon," she said, "it's seven in the morning."
"I need your help."
Her tone changed immediately.
"What happened?"
I told her everything.
The gala.
Grace.
Hope.
Victor's messages.
When I finished, Rachel was silent.
Then she asked, "Do you believe Hope is your daughter?"
"Yes."
"Are you certain?"
"Grace says she is. The dates make sense."
Rachel paused.
"Then we need to handle this carefully."
I nodded.
"I know."
"First, we protect Grace and Hope's privacy and safety. Second, we verify what happened with Victor. Third, we arrange appropriate legal steps concerning parentage."
I looked through the glass window toward Hope.
She was coloring with crayons a nurse had given her.
"Rachel, I want to help them immediately."
"You can provide assistance without waiting for a court decision."
"Good."
"But Damon, don't make assumptions about what Grace wants."
I looked down.
She was right.
After everything she'd experienced, Grace deserved to decide what happened next.
I thanked Rachel.
Then I called my security director, Aaron Mitchell.
"Aaron, I need you to review any records we still have concerning Grace Bennett."
He hesitated.
"From six years ago?"
"Yes."
"Is there a problem?"
I stared at Victor's message.
"I think we've had a very serious problem for a long time."
By noon, I had arranged for Grace and Hope to stay in a private furnished apartment after Grace's discharge, if she agreed.
I chose a place near the hospital.
Not my mansion.
Not a property surrounded by staff.
Just somewhere comfortable and secure.
I didn't want Grace to feel trapped.
When I told her, she shook her head.
"Damon, I can't accept that."
I sat beside her hospital bed.
"Grace, you're recovering."
"I know."
"And Hope needs somewhere safe."
She lowered her eyes.
"We've been managing."
I looked at her.
"You shouldn't have had to."
Her expression tightened.
"Damon, please don't make me feel like I'm some charity case."
I immediately shook my head.
"That's not what I mean."
She looked away.
For a moment, the room was silent.
Then I said, "I'm not trying to buy forgiveness."
She turned toward me.
"I'm trying to help because I should have been there."
Her eyes filled.
"You didn't believe me."
The words struck deeply.
"I know."
"You looked me in the face and told me I was lying."
I closed my eyes.
"I know."
"I begged you to check the evidence yourself."
My voice broke.
"And I didn't."
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"You walked away."
I stared at her.
There was no excuse.
No explanation that could erase what I'd done.
"I'm sorry, Grace."
She looked down.
I continued.
"I was wrong. And I know an apology doesn't fix six years."
For a long time, she didn't speak.
Then she whispered, "I loved you."
My chest tightened.
"I loved you too."
She shook her head.
"But you believed everyone except me."
I lowered my eyes.
"You're right."
Hope suddenly appeared in the doorway holding a coloring page.
"Mama!"
Grace wiped her tears quickly.
"Hello, baby."
Hope ran to her bedside.
"Look!"
She held up a picture.
Three stick figures stood beneath a bright yellow sun.
One tall.
One medium.
One small.
Grace smiled.
"That's beautiful."
Hope pointed at the figures.
"That's Mama."
Then the smallest.
"That's me."
Finally, she pointed to the tall figure.
"That's the cake man."
I laughed softly.
Grace looked at me.
For a moment, something moved between us.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But perhaps the beginning of understanding.
That afternoon, Rachel arrived.
She reviewed the situation with Grace and explained the legal steps that might help establish Hope's parentage and protect her interests.
Grace listened carefully.
Then agreed to proceed at a pace she felt comfortable with.
I was relieved.
But the real surprise came that evening.
Aaron called.
"Damon, I found something."
I stepped into the hallway.
"What?"
"Six years ago, Victor ordered the company's internal security archive restricted."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"He claimed it involved a confidential investigation."
My heartbeat quickened.
"Can you access it?"
"Some records were retained under legal hold."
I leaned against the wall.
"What did you find?"
Aaron hesitated.
"An access log showing Victor's credentials were used to enter Grace's account shortly before the alleged file theft."
I closed my eyes.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
I felt anger rise through my chest.
Victor.
My closest friend.
My business partner.
The man I'd trusted with everything.
I took a breath.
"Preserve the records. Don't confront him."
"Understood."
Then Aaron added something.
"Damon, there's another issue."
"What?"
"Victor's office recently requested information about the hospital where Grace was admitted."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"We don't know."
I looked through the glass toward Hope.
She was sitting beside her mother's bed, laughing at something Grace had said.
I felt a chill.
Victor wasn't simply worried that the truth might come out.
He was already trying to stay ahead of it.
I ended the call.
Then I walked back into Grace's room.
She looked up.
"Everything okay?"
I forced myself to remain calm.
"No."
Her expression changed.
"What's wrong?"
I sat beside her.
"Grace, I think Victor framed you six years ago."
She went completely still.
Then she whispered something that made my blood run cold.
"Damon, I know he did."
I stared at her.
"What?"
She looked toward Hope.
May you like
Then back at me.
"And I think I know why."
