Chapter 2 THE BILLIONAIRE

Damian Blackwell didn't tolerate interruptions.

Not in boardrooms.

Not in contracts.

And certainly not in his neatly controlled daily agenda.

So when his assistant had called during his transatlantic meeting with the European investors. The kind of folks who didn't reschedule and didn't repeat themselves. He'd nearly let it ring through.

Until she whispered the word "missing."

That was all it required.

The conference room had become silent as Damian stood, straightened his cufflinks, and went out without a word of explanation. No one dared question him. They never did.

Now, fifteen minutes later, he sat tight in the rear seat of his black Bentley SUV as it raced through Manhattan traffic. Every red light felt like a personal offense. Horns blared. Cyclists cut too close. And still, the only thing he could focus on was the image of his son. Small, fragile, lost.

Unacceptable.

Hudson Park Academy was supposed to be the top standard. Exclusive, pricey, discreet. The kind of place where children were protected as tightly as investments. Its notoriety had preceded it. It had claimed biometric entrance systems and two armed security guards. And yet, today, during a routine fire drill, Caleb had walked off.

How? Why? Who allowed it?

His scowl grew. The traffic cleared, and the driver pulled rapidly onto the academy's tree-lined road.

Before the automobile came to a full stop, Damian opened the door.

He strode out, long legs covering land in big leaps as he passed the security gate without so much as slowing. The woman at the front desk halted halfway, shocked.

"Mr. Blackwell please"

He didn't stop.

A staff member in school-issued khakis intercepted him near the playground entrance, breath rapid with apprehension. "Mr. Blackwell. Thank you for coming so quickly."

"Where is my son?" Damian snapped, not bothering to mask the harshness in his voice.

"He's safe. Right this way. He was located near the courtyard. He's a little... confused."

Damian didn't answer. He went on, the staff member fighting to keep pace beside him. They traversed a huge expanse of pure green lawn, planted to perfection, not a single blade of grass out of place.

Then he spotted him.

Caleb stood near the sandbox, his little shoulders squared. He wasn't crying. Wasn't panicked. But his head was inclined down, listening carefully to a petite blond girl beside him. They leaned in close, speaking like co-conspirators.

Damian's steps faltered.

His entire body tightened.

The girl.

She looked

He narrowed his eyes.

No. Not just a likeness.

She looked like Caleb.

Exactly like him.

As if

His jaw stiffened.

He searched the area and that was when he noticed her.

A young woman crouched beside the tiny girl, arms around her protectively. Her form was tiny, almost delicate beneath a tattered cardigan. Her hair escaped from a haphazard bun, wisps sticking to the hot skin of her cheeks. And those eyes, hazel, furious, tear-bright, lifted the second he neared.

Damian stopped cold.

His heart thudded once, sharp, unexpected.

Her face.

Not from life.

From a file.

From a name he'd read, dismissed, and never expected to see again.

Elena Moore.

The memories hit with striking clarity.

Surrogate Application 1426B.

Five years ago.

Confidential.

Untraceable.

Or so he thought.

He'd examined the file briefly, evaluated the dossier like any transaction. Approved the match. Clinical. Detached. His lawyers had handled the rest.

And yet, here she was. Real. Breathing. Clutching a youngster who seemed as if she'd been taken right from Caleb's DNA.

It didn't make sense.

Unless...

His gaze shifted back to the children.

They weren't just similar.

They were mirrors.

Twins.

No.

He tightened his hands as reasoning battled with unbelief.

It couldn't be.

There had been only one child. That was what he'd been told. One viable embryo. One birth.

"Elena Moore?" The teacher next him replied helpfully, indicating toward the woman. "This is Mr. Blackwell, Caleb's father."

Elena's face went white.

Damian watched her turn from him to the young girl beside her, her daughter, apparently and saw the moment her dread overcame her.

She didn't wait.

She took the girl's hand and bolted.

"Wait!" the teacher screamed.

But Elena didn't stop.

She ran straight across the courtyard and into the parking lot, dragging the youngster behind her. The tiny child slipped, almost fell, but never cried. She merely turned her head once to look back.

Their eyes locked. Caleb took a step forward, hand outstretched.

"Lily!" he called, voice high and pained.

Something inside Damian cracked.

That name again.

Lily.

He turned to the teacher, voice icy than glass.

"Who is she?"

"Elena Moore," the teacher said swiftly. "Lily's mother. We contacted her soon after the fire drill. She came immediately."

"Where's her file?" Damian demanded. "Enrollment paperwork. Application. Background check. I want it all."

"II don't know if we can release that"

"You can." He reached inside his inner pocket and removed his wallet, opening it open to expose a metallic gold sponsor card. "I fund your community initiative. The library restoration, the scholarship fund. You will send me what I ask."

The woman hesitated, then nodded, looking agitated.

Damian turned aside, moving back toward the gate with rage seething low and deep.

Elena Moore.

A name he believed he'd buried along with the arrangement. She was never intended to surface again. The surrogacy had been closed, quietly. The agency had promised she wouldn't know who the child went to. That she wouldn't keep records. That she wouldn't

But she had.

She had something. A child.

A twin.

The realization clawed at him.

She hadn't come to his office. Hadn't reached out. Hadn't demanded money or recognition. She'd kept quiet. Hidden.

And yet, suddenly, fate had pushed her firmly into his path.

Along with a tiny girl who looked like a copy-paste of his own son.

Damian's palm curled around his phone as he stepped into the SUV. He wasn't impulsive, not by nature. But this? This couldn't be ignored.

He would receive answers.

He didn't know how Elena Moore had reappeared.

Didn't know what strings had been pulled.

Didn't know what the hell the agency had lied about.

But one thing was clear.

This wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.