Elira woke before dawn, her body sore, her mind sharper than it had ever been. Soren lay beside her, one arm slung possessively over her waist like she was something he’d conquered in the night.
But she hadn’t surrendered.
Not really.
She slipped from the bed, wrapped in silk, the air thick with the aftermath of s*x and secrets. The DNA test had torn open something primal in her. And now, her instincts—fierce, maternal, vengeful—were roaring louder than ever.
Her real son was out there.
And Celine’s family had kept him from her.
That meant war.
By noon, Elira was seated across from Rowan Lang—Ashbourne’s former head of security.
He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were bloodshot, hands twitching over a dossier marked: Operation Switch.
“You sure you want to see this?”
