# MY TWINS CALLED THEIR BILLIONAIRE BIOLOGICAL FATHER WHILE I WAS DYING ON THE FLOOR—AND HE KNEW THEY WERE HIS BEFORE ANYONE SAID A WORD

“Saved them from what?” Griffin demanded, his voice dangerously low.

Sloan turned her head away. “From your father.”

The name landed like a bomb in the quiet ICU room. Arthur Drake was a ruthless titan of industry, a man who viewed people as chess pieces and emotions as weaknesses.

“My father is in London,” Griffin said slowly. “He has nothing to do with us.”

“He had everything to do with us!” Sloan finally snapped, coughing violently as the strain hit her. Griffin immediately poured a cup of water, holding the straw to her lips. She drank, then met his gaze with a fierce, protective fire.

“Ten years ago, when I found out I was pregnant, I came to your office to tell you. But your father was there. He pulled me aside. He showed me the dossiers, Griffin. The background checks. The photos of my brother, the ones proving he was gambling away money he stole from his clients.”

Griffin froze. He hadn’t known any of this.

“Your father told me that if I trapped you with a pregnancy, he would ruin my family. He would send my brother to federal prison and make sure I was painted as an extortionist gold-digger in every paper in the country. He said the Drake bloodline would not be tainted by a middle-class architect.”

Griffin’s expression went completely blank—a terrifying mask of pure, calculated rage. “He threatened you.”