Chapter 4 - WHISPERS IN THE STUDY
The doors to Nathaniel’s private study closed with a heavy, soundproof thud. The room was a sanctuary of dark mahogany, leather-bound books, and the faint, rich scent of cedar and expensive scotch. A massive fireplace crackled warmly in the corner.
Nathaniel guided Grace to a plush leather sofa and went straight to a concealed mini-fridge behind his mahogany desk. He pulled out a medical ice pack, wrapped it in a clean linen handkerchief, and handed it to her.
"Hold this against your cheek," he instructed softly.
Grace obeyed, wincing slightly as the freezing compress touched her bruised skin. "Thank you, sir."
"Stop calling me sir," Nathaniel said, taking a seat in the armchair opposite them. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his intense gaze fixed on Lily.
The little girl was no longer crying. She was looking around the massive room with wide, curious eyes. Nathaniel reached onto his desk, picked up a small, crystal paperweight shaped like a globe, and held it out to her.
"Do you like puzzles, Lily?" he asked, his voice softer than Grace had ever heard it.
Lily hesitated, looking up at her mother for permission. Grace gave a tiny, terrified nod. Lily slid off the sofa, walked over to the billionaire, and took the crystal globe. "Thank you," she chirped.
"You're very welcome," Nathaniel smiled. But as he watched the little girl turn the globe in her small hands, his smile slowly faded. His heart began to pound with a heavy, erratic rhythm.
He looked at her dark curls. He looked at the shape of her jaw. He looked at her emerald green eyes. And then, as Lily reached up to push a stray curl behind her ear, Nathaniel saw it.
A tiny, star-shaped birthmark just below her left earlobe.
All the air vanished from Nathaniel's lungs. He felt as though the floor had given way beneath him. He reached up, instinctively touching his own neck, just below his left earlobe, where an identical star-shaped birthmark rested hidden beneath his collar.
He slowly lifted his eyes and looked at Grace.
Grace had turned as pale as a ghost. She saw the realization dawn on his face. She saw the exact moment the billionaire calculated the math, recognized the genetics, and uncovered the truth she had bled to conceal.
"Grace," Nathaniel's voice was barely a whisper, trembling with a sudden, overwhelming shock. "How old is she?"
Grace swallowed, her throat dry. "She… she just turned three."
Three years old. Plus nine months of pregnancy.
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"Four years ago," Nathaniel said, the words tumbling out of him as if dragged from the depths of his soul. "The night of the charity gala at the St. Regis. The night I was drugged."
Grace closed her eyes, and a single tear slipped down her unbruised cheek. The silence in the study was deafening, broken only by the innocent sound of Lily tapping the crystal globe against the carpet.
