First came the un-doctored surveillance photos. The man Maren was supposedly kissing at the hotel? It was a hired actor. The bank transfers? Routed through shell companies owned by Whitmore Holdings. Tessa hadn’t just framed Maren; she had architected my paranoia, feeding my ego and my insecurities until I threw my pregnant wife out into the street.
Then, I found the birth certificates.
Noah Bellamy. Finn Bellamy.
And beneath them, a third. Clara Bellamy.
I flipped the pages, my eyes scanning the medical jargon until the truth hit me with the force of a freight train.
Grant Whitmore, Tessa’s billionaire father, the man who clapped me on the shoulder and called me ‘son’, had terminal acute myeloid leukemia. He needed a highly specific, impossibly rare bone marrow and stem cell match to survive.
