Chapter 7 - THE BILLIONAIRE WHO REFUSED TO BE FOOLED AGAINJulian arrived at his penthouse at 10:18 p.m.
He didn't come alone.
Two members of his security team accompanied him.
Marcus remained downstairs coordinating with police, who were aware of the suspected fraudulent custody scheme.
Julian had spent the drive preparing himself.
He knew Sloane was lying.
He knew the pregnancy had never existed.
He knew someone else's baby might be inside his home.
But no amount of preparation could soften the sight waiting for him.
Sloane sat on the cream-colored sofa.
She wore a pale blue robe.
Her hair was loose around her shoulders.
And in her arms was a newborn baby wrapped in a white blanket.
Patricia stood behind her.
Her eyes gleamed with triumph.
“Julian!” she exclaimed. “Congratulations!”
Julian stopped in the doorway.
The baby was tiny.
Beautiful.
Alive.
A soft tuft of dark hair covered her head.
One little hand rested against Sloane's robe.
Julian felt an unexpected ache in his chest.
For months, he had imagined this moment.
And the cruelest part was that the child was real.
Only the story surrounding her was false.
Sloane looked up with tearful eyes.
“She couldn't wait to meet her daddy.”
Julian didn't move.
“Where was she born?”
Sloane hesitated.
“The hospital.”
“Which hospital?”
“St. Catherine's.”
“At what time?”
“Julian, please. I'm exhausted.”
“Which doctor delivered her?”
Patricia stepped forward.
“Good heavens, can't you see what she's been through?”
Julian looked at her.
“I'm asking a reasonable question.”
Sloane began crying harder.
“I thought you'd be happy.”
Julian took a slow breath.
“I want the baby to be safe. Where are the discharge papers?”
Patricia's smile tightened.
“They're in the bedroom.”
“Then bring them.”
Sloane clutched the infant closer.
“Why are you treating me like a criminal?”
Julian looked at the baby.
He could see her little chest rising and falling.
She made a soft sound.
His heart ached again.
“Because I have reason to believe this child was taken from her mother.”
The room went silent.
Patricia's face changed first.
The triumphant smile vanished.
Sloane stared at him.
“What?”
Julian stepped closer.
“Where is Mia Bennett?”
Sloane's lips parted.
For three full seconds, no one spoke.
Then Patricia whispered:
“Who told you that name?”
Julian looked directly at her.
“Where is she?”
Patricia gripped the back of the sofa.
Sloane's expression hardened.
The frightened new mother disappeared.
In her place was the woman from the recording.
“You've been talking to Hannah,” she said.
Julian didn't answer.
Sloane laughed softly.
“I told Nathan she was a problem.”
“Put the baby in her bassinet,” Julian said. “Carefully.”
Sloane tightened her arms.
“She's mine.”
“She's a child, Sloane. Not a bargaining chip.”
Patricia moved toward the hallway.
One of Julian's security officers stepped aside to avoid blocking her.
But Marcus's voice sounded from the intercom.
“Julian, police are on their way up.”
Patricia froze.
Sloane looked toward the door.
“You called the police?”
“Yes.”
“You ungrateful bastard.”
Julian stared at her.
The words sounded almost absurd coming from the woman who had spent months calling him darling.
Sloane stood abruptly.
The baby began crying.
Julian instinctively stepped forward.
“Easy. She's frightened.”
Sloane looked down at the child.
Then back at Julian.
“Do you have any idea what I've sacrificed for you?”
He felt a flash of anger.
“For me?”
“I gave up everything to become the woman you wanted.”
“You pretended to be pregnant.”
“I gave you a family!”
“You took someone else's family.”
Sloane's face twisted.
“You think love is some beautiful fairy tale? You think your money doesn't determine how people treat you?”
Julian stared at her.
“You could have told me the truth.”
“And watched you leave?”
“Yes.”
The honesty made her recoil.
Julian continued.
“You had the right to choose your life. You did not have the right to steal another person's child.”
Sloane looked toward Patricia.
For the first time, genuine fear appeared in her eyes.
“Mom?”
Patricia moved closer.
“Don't say another word.”
But Sloane was no longer listening.
“You promised he'd never find out!”
Julian turned sharply.
Patricia's face went white.
“Sloane!”
“You said we'd be protected!”
“Sloane, stop.”
“You said Walter had everything handled!”
Silence.
Julian looked at Patricia.
There it was.
Another confirmation.
Walter Bishop.
The man who had known him since childhood.
The man who had once told him to respect women and protect children.
The man who apparently considered both expendable.
The elevator doors opened.
Two police officers entered with a detective and a child-welfare specialist.
Marcus followed.
The detective introduced herself as Elena Ramirez.
“Miss Whitaker,” she said calmly, “we need to establish the child's identity and ensure she's safe.”
Sloane backed away.
“You can't take my daughter.”
Detective Ramirez spoke gently.
“We're not making assumptions about custody in this room. But we need to verify where this baby came from.”
Patricia stepped forward.
“I'm calling our attorney.”
“You may,” Ramirez replied.
Julian watched as the specialist approached Sloane.
The baby had stopped crying.
Her little eyes were closed.
She looked impossibly peaceful.
A living child surrounded by adults who had turned her existence into a scheme.
Sloane lowered her head.
For one instant, Julian thought she might cooperate.
Then she looked straight at him.
“You have no idea what you've done.”
He said nothing.
She smiled.
A small, terrible smile.
“You think Walter is afraid of the police?”
Patricia whispered urgently, “Sloane, enough.”
But Sloane continued.
“He has judges in his pocket. He has bankers. He has people on your board who owe him everything.”
Julian felt his blood turn cold.
“You're threatening me?”
“I'm warning you.”
The detective intervened.
“Miss Whitaker, you're free to remain silent. We need to proceed carefully.”
Sloane looked toward the nursery.
Then down at the baby.
Her expression suddenly softened.
“I never wanted her hurt.”
Julian believed that part might be true.
But it changed nothing.
“You should have protected her by leaving her with her mother,” he said.
The child-welfare specialist gently took the baby once Sloane agreed to hand her over.
Sloane began sobbing.
This time, Julian didn't know whether the tears were real.
He watched the specialist carry the infant toward a quieter room.
A little hand emerged from the blanket.
Julian almost reached for it.
But he stopped himself.
He wasn't her father.
And she wasn't his to claim.
That truth hurt more than he expected.
As officers escorted Sloane and Patricia from the penthouse for further questioning, Sloane turned back.
Her eyes were red.
Her mascara had begun to run.
For the first time since meeting her, she looked like an ordinary frightened woman.
“Julian.”
He looked at her.
“I did love you.”
He wanted to believe her.
Some small, wounded part of him still wanted every morning kiss and whispered promise to have meant something.
But love didn't require forged documents.
Love didn't steal children.
Love didn't arrange for someone to become helpless.
He stepped closer.
“No, Sloane.”
His voice was steady.
“You loved what my life could give you.”
She stared at him.
Then the elevator doors closed.
Julian stood alone in the enormous room.
The nursery light glowed down the hall.
A mobile of white stars turned slowly above the empty crib.
He walked inside.
Everything was ready.
Tiny socks arranged by color.
Stuffed animals lined neatly against the wall.
A rocking chair beside the window.
And above the crib, painted in soft silver letters:
WELCOME HOME, EVELYN.
Julian sank into the rocking chair.
For the first time since the waitress's warning, he allowed himself to cry.
Not for Sloane.
Not for the money.
Not even for the betrayal.
He cried for the daughter he had already loved.
The daughter who had never existed.
He didn't hear Marcus enter.
His old friend stood quietly beside the door.
After several minutes, Marcus spoke.
“Julian.”
Julian wiped his face.
“What?”
“We have a problem.”
Julian looked up.
Marcus held a tablet.
“Walter Bishop just called an emergency board meeting.”
“For what?”
Marcus hesitated.
“To remove you as chief executive.”
Julian stared.
“On what grounds?”
Marcus turned the screen.
An official notice had been distributed to the board.
It alleged that Julian had suffered a serious psychological breakdown.
That he had endangered a newborn child.
That he had behaved unpredictably.
And that immediate intervention was necessary to protect Mercer Holdings.
Attached was a medical report.
It carried the signature of Dr. Malcolm Whitcomb.
The doctor Sloane had tried to send Julian to.
Julian had never attended the appointment.
Yet the report claimed he had been examined.
And diagnosed with a severe neurological condition.
Marcus looked at him gravely.
“Walter isn't waiting twelve days anymore.”
Julian slowly stood.
“When is the board meeting?”
“Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock.”
Julian looked at the empty crib.
Then at the city beyond the windows.
He had spent years building an empire.
Now the people closest to him were trying to take it using the very family he had dreamed of creating.
He wiped the last tears from his face.
“Call Elaine.”
Marcus nodded.
“What should I tell her?”
May you like
Julian's expression hardened.
“Tell her we're going to war.”
Related Stories
