“Elena was never pregnant,” Sofia said softly. “I was her surrogate. We kept it secret because of your stepmother. Elena was afraid she’d hurt the babies.”
She handed him a letter. Elena’s handwriting. A warning. A plea to protect the children if anything happened.
The truth hit harder than grief ever had. The crash wasn’t an accident.
Two days later, DNA confirmed what his heart already knew. They were his.
The investigation unraveled everything—hidden payments, erased records, a tampered vehicle. The woman who had comforted him after Elena’s death had orchestrated it.
When she stormed the mansion and tried to flee with the children, she was stopped before harm could be done. The truth finally surfaced.
Weeks later, the garden was alive again. Small feet raced across the grass. Laughter filled the air Sofia once kept quiet.
Damian watched his children chase bubbles into the sunlit sky and felt something unfamiliar return to his chest.
Hope.
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