Chapter 1 The Silent Auction

Dante Moreau never lost, not in business, not in life and certainly not when it came to women. His empire the Moreau Group is a fortress, unyielding, ruthless, built on a foundation of control, he made it that way and he earned it.

Standing in the dimly lit room of the underground auction house, Dante could feel the first stirrings of uncertainty creeping in. The same uncertainty that gnawed at him for the past three years, ever since Seraphina Carter had disappeared from his life like a ghost.

He told himself he didn't care, told himself she was just another distraction, but standing in the shadows, watching the strange proceedings unfold before him, he couldn't shake the thought of her. Had she betrayed him? He still didn't know and did it even matter?

A hush fell over the room as the auctioneer man cloaked in darkness stepped forward. His voice rang out, smooth and practiced, but with an underlying cruelty that made the hairs on Dante's neck stand up.

"Lot 47," the auctioneer announced. "The Bastard Heir."

The crowd shifted, whispers spreading like wildfire. Dante's pulse quickened he'd been told about the auction of rare bloodlines, a high-risk, high-reward game played by the world's most dangerous players. But this? This was something different.

A child was being sold.

The doors creaked open, and two muscular guards entered, carrying a small boy between them. Dante's heart skipped a beat.

No... it couldn't be.

The child had wild, curly hair exactly like his and as his bright blue eyes scanned the room, Dante felt a wave of recognition crash over him.

A boy that looks like him? "His son."

He hadn't known he had a son, he'd never been told. The last time he had an unprotected affair was with Seraphina Carter, it had been a heated goodbye full of anger, betrayal, and unspoken words but this child? This boy was undeniably his.

The child was placed on the stage, looking confused, scared. His small hands trembled, but there was something in his eyes a certain quiet strength that made Dante's chest tighten. The auctioneer's voice broke through the haze in Dante's mind.

Ladies and gentlemen, Lot 47 is a rare commodity. The child of a billionaire-whose identity will remain a secret for now but one who will not remain hidden for long. A heir to an empire.

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Dante's mind race, he had to get the boy. He couldn't lose him but the cost of winning the bid would be far higher than money. It would cost him everything.

As the auctioneer's gavel raised, a voice cut through the air.

I'll start the bidding at 10 million, a smooth voice echoed from the shadows. Dante didn't need to look. He knew who it was. Brent Caldwell a man with a reputation for buying the unbuyable and a taste for chaos.

"10 million," the auctioneer repeated, his voice dripping with approval. "Do I hear 12?"

Another voice joined the fray. Dante's eyes narrowed as he saw Victor Radcliffe step into the spotlight, his cold, calculating eyes locking with Dante's.

"15 million," Radcliffe announced, and Dante clenched his jaw. The stakes were rising too quickly. There was no time to waste, he had to act now.

Dante stepped forward, his voice a dark growl, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "20 million," he declared, his words echoing in the tense silence. The room went still, the bidding stopped, everyone turned to look at him.

The auctioneer's eyes widened in surprise. "20 million," he repeated. Sold!

A wave of shock rippled through the room. Dante's heart thundered in his chest. The child, his son, was his. No one else could touch him. No one else would have the chance to use him as leverage or pawn him off for their gain.

As the auctioneer's gavel fell, Dante strode forward, his eyes never leaving the boy. The child didn't look at him, not yet, but Dante could see the deep fear in his eyes. It was the kind of fear Dante was all too familiar with the kind that came with being discarded, forgotten, abandoned.

The guards stepped aside as Dante approached the boy, his large frame casting a shadow over the child. His son looked up at him, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Dante crouched down, his voice low, laced with unspoken promises.

"You're safe now," he said softly, though his heart was anything but calm. "I'll take care of you, no one will hurt you again." But the child didn't speak. He just stared at Dante, a haunting sadness in his eyes, as though he had seen things no child should ever witness and then, the boy raised his small hand clutching a pendant.

Dante froze, the pendant was unmistakable. He had seen it before. It was a gift from him Seraphina had worn every day before she disappeared.

The boy's lips parted, but the words that came out were barely a whisper.

"Mama..."

Dante's blood ran cold.

It wasn't just the boy's resemblance to him, the eyes that mirrored his own. It wasn't just the pendant. It was the single word that fell from the child's lips a name that Dante had dreamed of, cursed, and hoped to forget for so long.

"Seraphina..." the child whispered, and Dante's heart clenched, the old wound breaking open with devastating force.

Everything he had worked for, every wall he had built, now seemed fragile in the face of this truth. This child was his, yes, but Seraphina was still alive and the world he had tried to forget was about to pull him back in.

Dante stood there, unable to speak, his mind spinning. Seraphina was alive, he had to find her. He has to make sure he finds her alive. And then... he has to figure out why they had hidden her away.

The boy reached up, and Dante instinctively lowered his hand to touch the boy's small, trembling fingers and then, with a glance that held an old, deep pain, the boy whispered again.

Please... Mama