Miles stood in a crisp suit, his gaze sharp and predatory as it fixed on me. "Hey, babe. What are you doing standing in the doorway? Come in."
Had he heard me?
Or was this another trap?
I tightened my grip on the voice recorder hidden in my pocket, my heart hammering against my ribs. But when I lifted my head, my expression was perfectly blank, as though I hadn't heard a thing. "Just got back from the hospital. I'm a little tired."
I kept my eyes lowered, smothering the murderous intent behind my lashes. From the corner of my eye, I caught Stella standing behind him, one hand resting on her belly in a gesture of quiet triumph, a flicker of cunning in her gaze.
Miles studied my face, his look equal parts suspicion and impatience. "How's Chloe? What did the doctor say?"
Not a shred of genuine concern. Just going through the motions.
I let my eyelids droop, masking the chill beneath, my voice roughened with exhaustion. "Nothing serious. She was just scared. Shook me up too."
I leaned into him, pretending my legs were giving out.
He sidestepped without thinking, the reflex so natural it cut to the bone. "If you're tired, go to your room. The housekeeper can handle things."
His eyes kept darting past me, as if checking for something.
A second later, Stella glided over with a glass of warm water, a saccharine smile plastered across her face. "You should drink something, Mrs. Winfield. As long as Chloe's fine, that's all that matters. Don't wear yourself out."
As she drew close, she made a show of stroking her belly. The display stung like a slap.
I swallowed my revulsion and took the glass, keeping my voice soft. "I really appreciate everything you've done lately."
"Miles is so busy. Taking care of the house is the least I can do." Stella slid a coy glance toward him, her tone dripping with an intimacy that made my skin crawl.
Miles nodded approvingly. "Stella's thorough. I don't have to worry. I've got to head back to the office."
"Wait." I feigned reluctance, reaching for his arm. "Chloe keeps asking for her daddy." My fingertip found the recorder's switch behind the fabric of my pocket and pressed down.
Stella cut in on cue. "Work comes first. Don't worry, Mrs. Winfield. I'll be here."
I gave a small, defeated nod. Miles walked out without looking back.
The moment the door closed behind him, Stella's mask dropped. She turned, lip curling. "He already belongs to me. Clinging to him won't change a thing."
I blinked at her, playing dumb.
She caressed her belly, practically glowing with spite. "I'm carrying his child. Once we get the Pruitt Group shares, he'll divorce you and marry me. Chloe was always ours. If you hadn't wormed your way in seven years ago, I would've been Mrs. Winfield from the start. Everything that should've been mine, I'm taking back. Piece by piece."
"You can't do this..." I let my voice crack, my whole body trembling as I gripped the edge of the sofa. From the corner of my eye, I spotted the tiny camera wedged beneath the coffee table.
I'd planted it that morning on my way out.
Stella's expression hardened, vicious now. "Be smart. File for divorce on your own, or you'll end up with less than nothing."
She swiveled on her heel and sauntered upstairs.
The second her door clicked shut, every trace of fragility drained from my face. What remained was ice. I pulled out my phone and dialed the private investigator.
"I need you to dig into Miles Winfield's recent asset transfers. And everything you can find about the hospital where I gave birth seven years ago. Staff records, security footage, all of it. The more detail, the better."
I hung up and walked into the study, logging into the Pruitt Group's financial system. As the sole heir to the Pruitt family, I hadn't been involved in day-to-day operations for years, but I'd never relinquished my core access.
My fingers flew across the keyboard. One by one, I located the hidden accounts where Miles had been siphoning funds and froze every last one. Then I backed up every shred of evidence of his embezzlement.
I closed the laptop. The only thing left on my face was a cold, thin smile.
They still thought I was the same pushover Martha Pruitt?
I stepped into Chloe's room. She called out "Mommy" in that sweet little voice and asked when Daddy was coming home.
"Daddy will be here as soon as he's done with work. You rest up, okay? I'll make you something to eat." My voice was steady, gentle. I smoothed her hair back from her forehead.
Once she'd settled, I got in the car and drove to the private hospital where I'd given birth.
In the records room, a single duty roster made my blood run cold. There, on the line for the nurse on shift the night I delivered, was one name: Jemima Finch.
I tracked down the head nurse from that time. Confronted with my attorney's letter and the evidence I'd gathered, she finally cracked.
"Jemima was definitely on the maternity ward that night. She resigned not long after your delivery. Word was she took an administrative position at the Winfield Group."
The truth was staring me in the face. The baby swap had been planned from the very beginning.
My fingers went white around the duty roster. I forced the tidal wave of rage back down.
City lights streaked past the car windows as I drove through the darkness, a fire burning behind my eyes.
Miles Winfield. Stella Fox. You stole my child, hijacked my life, and tried to destroy everything I had. This debt? I will collect it a thousandfold.
