Chapter 8
My father’s trust had a crisis division.
I used to think that was dramatic.
Then my life caught fire.
Within forty-eight hours, Eleanor had a secure suite arranged, a new medical team installed, and a private investigator named Jonah Vale assigned to Sabrina’s past.
Jonah was quiet.
Former FBI.
Eyes like locked doors.
He brought the first report to my room.
“Sabrina Vale is not her legal birth name.”
I blinked.
“Vale?”
He nodded.
“No relation to me. Her birth name is Ashley Monroe.”
Eleanor frowned.
“Why change it?”
Jonah placed photos on the bed tray.
Sabrina at eighteen.
Sabrina with Christian at twenty.
Sabrina with Dr. Lawson.
My chest tightened.
“They knew each other before me.”
“Yes,” Jonah said. “And Lawson delivered Leo.”
“Where?”
“A private clinic in Nashville.”
He slid another paper forward.
Birth certificate.
Father: Christian Prescott.
Mother: Sabrina Vale.
Date: four years ago.
I stared.
Four years.
Christian had proposed to me three months before Leo was born.
He proposed while Sabrina was pregnant.
The cruelty had layers.
Jonah continued.
“Leo’s nanny contacted us through a hotline.”
I sat up too fast.
Pain ripped through me.
“What did she say?”
“That Sabrina leaves him alone for days with staff, and Christian only visits when photos are needed.”
My anger shifted.
Still hot.
But wider now.
Leo was not my betrayal.
He was another hostage in their image machine.
“Can we get him safe?”
Eleanor studied me.
“You owe that child nothing.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
I touched the bandage on my cheek.
“Because I know what it feels like to be useful to them.”
Eleanor nodded slowly.
“We’ll call child protective services with evidence.”
That night, my hospital phone rang.
May you like
Leo’s tiny voice whispered, “Are you the lady Daddy hurt?”
My heart stopped.
