Chapter 1

At ten centimeters dilated, I heard my husband tell me that his mistress had already given him the son he wanted—and that my baby would never carry his name. Then he shoved a $250,000 cashier’s check and custody papers onto my hospital tray while another contraction tore through me. He thought I was alone, powerless, and desperate enough to obey him. He had no idea who I was about to call.

My name is Gia Sterling, and I was fighting through labor when Julian Thorne decided to end our marriage.

The check landed beside my medical supplies, absurdly neat against the chaos around me.

Julian adjusted the sleeve of his expensive Tom Ford suit and checked his gold watch like my labor was making him late for something more important.

“Victoria delivered a son two weeks ago,” he said coldly. “That’s the real Thorne heir.”

Victoria.

His marketing director.

His mistress.

I stared at him, waiting for shame, hesitation—anything.

There was nothing.

“Sign the sole-custody agreement,” Julian continued. “Take the money, take your daughter, and disappear.”

Another contraction crushed through me.

I gripped the sheets until my knuckles turned white.

“The Thorne name won’t be disgraced by this mess,” he added.

This mess.

That was what he called me.

What he called the child I was struggling to bring into the world.

For years, I had bent myself into smaller and smaller pieces trying to earn Julian’s approval.

But lying there in pain, I finally stopped.

I didn’t scream.

I didn’t beg.

I simply nodded.

Julian looked satisfied.

Then he straightened his jacket and walked out whistling.

The moment the door closed, I reached for my obstetrician’s sleeve.

“Doctor,” I whispered, “I need the private transatlantic priority line.”

He looked confused.

“Tell Marcus Sterling his daughter is in labor.”

His expression changed instantly.

“Tell him his grandchildren need their grandfather.”

I had avoided using my father’s name around Julian for years.

Marcus Sterling wasn’t just wealthy.

He controlled a shipping empire worth nearly fifty billion dollars.

Julian had spent our entire marriage treating me like a woman with nowhere else to go.

Then the monitor beside my bed suddenly changed.

A fast heartbeat filled the room.

Then another.

The doctor stared at the screen.

Two heartbeats.

I froze.

Twins.

I had walked into that hospital believing I was carrying one baby.

While Julian stood beside my bed deciding which child deserved his last name, two babies had been fighting their way into the world.

Hours later, I was resting in the hospital’s secured Presidential Penthouse.

My father stood beside me holding both newborns.

Then he noticed the cashier’s check.

The custody papers.

His face changed.

“That bastard plans to come back tomorrow and pay you to disappear?”

I nodded.

My father looked down at my babies.

Then back at me.

A cold smile appeared.

“Good.”

I blinked.

He placed the papers carefully on the table.

“Then we’ll make sure he gets a receipt.”

By morning, both birth certificates carried the Sterling name.

Another document sat beside them.

Julian’s termination letter.

Then footsteps sounded outside my hospital suite.

Slow.

Confident.

Familiar.

Julian was back.

My father didn’t hide the birth certificates.

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He didn’t hide the termination papers.

He simply sat beside my bed and waited for the door to open.