The world tilted.
Elira stood in the vault’s dim light, the medical file shaking in her grip.
Her son wasn’t the only one.
They had taken another.
And no one—no one—had told her.
Back in the penthouse, Soren’s phone dropped from his hand the second he read the DNA report.
“This… can’t be right.”
She shoved him. “You did this. You let them switch our child.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Liar.”
“Don’t you dare,” he snapped. “Don’t you dare act like I haven’t bled for you.”
“Then bleed more.”
And she kissed him.
Hard.
Vicious.
It was hunger and rage and grief, crashing like a storm against skin.
His shirt tore in her hands.
Her dress fell like silk regret.
He pinned her against the glass wall overlooking the city they both hated—and ruled.
His mouth devoured her neck.
Her nails scrap
