The sun filtered through the tall windows of the sleek, glass-walled office, casting soft streaks of light across the polished floor. Kingsley sat at his desk, tie loosened, eyes fixed on a blank page before him. He hadn’t really worked all day. His mind had been circling the same question like a hawk: Was she really pregnant? And if so… where is the child?
A knock.
He looked up. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Nathan Caldwell, his private investigator, stepped in with a neutral, unreadable face. He carried a leather folder and closed the door behind him.
“Nathan,” Kingsley said, trying to sit straighter. “You found something?”
Nathan gave a small nod and walked forward, laying the folder on the desk but not opening it yet. “Yes. I did.”
Kingsley waited. The silence between them felt
