Maren’s hand flew to her mouth, a stifled gasp escaping her lips.
“A third?” she whispered, her eyes widening with a sudden, agonizing horror. “The doctors told me… they told me the third baby didn’t make it. They said he was stillborn, that his lungs weren’t formed. They wouldn’t even let me see him.”
She collapsed onto her knees beside me, the sheer weight of the realization crashing over her.
“Tessa took him,” I said, the words feeling like ash in my mouth. “She stole our son, Maren. But I swear to God, I am getting him back tonight.”
Right then, my phone vibrated. It was Vance.
“Sir, we found it,” Vance reported smoothly. “Tessa bought a secluded cottage under her mother’s maiden name in a wooded area twenty miles north of your estate. Neighbors report seeing a nanny coming and going with an infant. Tessa visits every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon.”
“Send the teams,” I ordered, standing up and wiping the tears from my face, replacing them with absolute steel. “Coordinate with the local precinct. We are moving in for a child recovery operation. Now.”
I looked down at Maren, extending my hand. “Come with me. Let’s bring our boy home.”
