bChapter /bb70 /b

-HUNTER-

The Roid family estate overlooked ahead as my car rolled up the long, tree–lined driveway. Gray clouds gathered above the mansion where I’d grown up. matching my mood perfectly.

I hadn’t nned oning here today, but my mother’s urgent call about feeling unwell had left me little choice

Baron had raised an eyebrow when I had announced my sudden departure.

“Should I inform Mrs Sally you’ll be gone for dinner, sir?” he’d asked, his expression carefully bneutral/b.

I’d hesitated. “Yes. Tell her not to wait up.

Now, as the bcar /bcame to a stop in front of the imposing stone steps, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was walking into something I wouldn’t like.

Mother’s “illnesses” had ba /bconvenient way of appearing whenever she wanted something.

Chambers, the family butler who’d been with us since before) was bom, opened the heavy oak door before I could bknock /b

“Mr. Reid,” bhe /bgreeted me with a small bow. “Your mother is in the east sitting room.”

“How sick is she, Chambers?” asked bluntly.

The slightest hesitation. “Madam, requested tea and her favorite biscuits an hour ago, sir.”

Sob, /bnot sick at all. Typical

I found my mother seated by the window in the east sitting broom/b, blooking /bperfectly healthy in a tailored navy dress, her silver hair immacta as always.

The room hadn’t changed since my childhood, still bfilled /bwith Reid family portraits and antiques that reminded visitors of our blong /bhistory and wealth.

“Hunter,” she said, not bothering to stand. “Thank you foring so quickly

“You’re looking well for someone who called iming to be ill,” I repliedb, /bremaining by the door.

She waved dismissively. “A mother’s priority. You never visit unless summoned.” fn0790 ??? ????? ???????s ??? ?????s??? ?? Find[F]ovel/fn0790

“I’m busy. Running thepany you and Father wanted me to take bover/bb, /bremember?”

“Sit down, Hunter.” Her tone left no room for argument–the samemanding voice she’d used bthroughout /bbmy /bchildhood.

Itook the chair across from her, noting the man envelope on the coffee table between us. Something about it made my stomach tighten.

“What’s this about, Mother? I have meetings back in the city.”

She studied me for a long moment, her eyes.. the same blue as mine…calcting as always.

“How is your… household staff performing?” she asked casually.

The question caught me off guard. “Fine. Why?”

“And the boy? Caesarb, /bisn’t it? He’s settled in well?”

My jaw tightened. “What is this about?”

Mother picked up the envelope, tapping it against her palm. “I’ve been concerned, Hunter. About your… interest in this woman and hit child”

“Coline is an employee. My interest in professional.”

“Please.” She bscoffed/b. I braised /byou. 1 kw when you’re lying.”

Thunder rumbled outside, echoing the growing tension in the n

“You had her investigated, didn’t you?” The realization hit me suddenly. “That’s why you asked for her full name when you visited”

Mother didn’t deny it. “I protect this family. It’s what I’ve always done”

“Celine is not a threat.”

“No?” She slid the envelope across the table toward me. “Open it.”

I stared at the envelope, dread pooling in my stomach. “What is this?”

“The btruth/b,” she said simply. “About your maid’s son.

My hands felt strangely heavy as picked up the envelope. Part of me already knew what I would find inside. I had suspected since I met them, ever bsince /bThad noticed Caesar’s eyes…my eyes…staring back at me from his small bface/b.

Inside was a clinical–looking document….a DNA test bresult/b.

“How did you get this?” |

Tasked, my voice dangerously quiet.

“Does it matter? What matters is what it says.” bShe /bleaned forward. “The bboy /bis yours, Hunter”

I stared at the paper, the scientific proof of what I balready /bknew for weeks, 999998 probability of paternity”

“You had him tested without my knowledge,” I said slowly, anger building. “Without his mother’s consent.”

was necessary. A strand of hair is all it takes these bdays/b.” She spoke as if discussing the weather, not a vition of a child’s privacy.

“I did what was ne

bthat /bare you going to do about it!”

“The question isb, /bwhat are

I stood abruptly, pacing to the window. The rain had started to fall, streaking down the ss like tears.

“How long have you known?” I asked.

“Suspected since I first saw him. Those are Reid’s eyes, H Hunter. The gic test merely confirmed it.”

I turned bto /bface her. “And what exactly do you bexpect /bme to bdo/bb?/bb” /b

Mother sighed, looking suddenly tired. “Handle it, of course. Before this bes ba /bscandal”

“Handle it,” I repeated tly.

“That woman has been living in your house, caring for your child….

“His name is bCaesar/bb,/b” I cut in sharply.

“She’s been hiding your son from you for years, Mother continued bas /bif I hadn’t spoken. “It seems your charity case brought more than her cleaning supplies into our home.”

I felt something snap inside me. “Don’t bcall /bher that.”

Mother raised an eyebrow. “You’re defending her? Aher she lied to you?”

“Has it urred to you that she might not know?” The moment I bsaid /bit, I knew it wasn’t true. bCeline /bhad to know. The resemnce bwas /btoo strong, the

timing too perfect.

“Don’t be naive.” Mother stood, smoothing her dress. “That woman has been nning this from the beginning”

“nning what, exactly?”

“To trap you, of course. She targeted you for your money?”

Iughed bitterly. “That’s ridiculous. Celine’s not like that.”

“All

women are like that when ites to securing their future,” she replied coldly. “I should know.”

The implication that she had married my father for money wasn’t lost on me. Their loveless marriage had been my model for avoiding rtionships my entire adult life.

“Caesar is my son,” I said, testing the words. They felt weird and yet strangely right on my tongue.

“Yes, and as such, he’s a Reid. Your father would expect you to do right by the family name.”

I moved to the firece, staring up at the portrait of my father that hung above it. His harsh face looked down at me, judging bas /bbalways/b.

“What does that mean, Motherb? /bWhat exactly would Father expect?

“Financial support, of course. A trust fund for the boy’s education. A suitable settlement for the mother in exchange for her discretion.”

“Her discretion,” I repeated. “You want to buy her silence!”

“It’s how these things are handled.” She said it as if bexining /bsomething obvious to a child.

“And what if I want more than that?” The question surprised even me

Mother frowned, “More?”

ther to my son? What if I want Celine in my life?”

“What if I want to be a father to my

Sheughed, the sound sharp and dismissive. b“/bDon’t be absurd. She’s a maid, Hunter. From nothing.”

“She’s Caesar’s mother.

“A convenient biological fact, nothing more.” Mother moved closer, bcing /ba hand on my arm. “Think of your position. Thepany. The Reid name. Your father worked his entire life to build what we bhave/b.”

I shook her hand off. “My father is dead.”

“And you are his legacy,” she insisted. “You have responsibilities.”

I looked down at the DNA results still clutched in my hand. Caesar, my son. The bboy /bwhoughed at butterflies and built block towers and looked at me with trust I hadn’teamed–he was mine.

And I had been p

pushing baway /bhis mother, the woman who had somehow gotten under my skin, into my thoughts, despite all my efforts to keep her out.

“I need to think,” I said finally.

Mother nodded, satisfied she’d made her bpoint /b“Take the test results. Consider your options carefully. I’ve had ourwyers draw up some preliminary paperwork for various… arrangements.”

Of course, she had. Mother always nned ten steps ahead.

“I’ll handle this my way,”

“I told her firmly.

“Just don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment,” she warned. “That woman may

I tucked the envelope into my jacket pocket. “I should go.”

“Will you stay for dinner? Chambers has prepared your favorite.”

ay seem innocent, but she’s had years to n this moment

The request was so normal, so disconnected from the bombshell she’d just dropped, that I almostughed,

“No. I need to get back.”

Back to the house where my son was probably getting ready for bed. Back to Celine, who had been keeping this secret from me.

As I drove through the storm toward home, one question kept circling in my mind: Had Celine known all along? Had she taken the job in my hotel, in my

as part of some n?

The rational part of me dismissed the idea immediately. I’d seen her surprise when we first met at the hotel I’d witnessed her desperation when asking for the maid position

But another part bof /bme, the part shaped by years of my mother’s warnings about people wanting the Roid fortune, couldn’t help wondering.

Caesar is my son.

The thought kept repeating as I gripped the steering wheel tighter,

What would I do now? What kind of father could I possibly be? I had no model to follow–my own father had been distant at best, cold and demanding at

Worst

And what about Celine? The night in the wine cer took on new meaning now.

I needed answers. And there was only one person who could give them to me.

I pressed harder on the elerator, racing back toward home…toward Celine….with the weight of the truth heavy in my pocket.