Chapter 3: The Truth About My Past
Eleanor took me to a private penthouse that same day. Her security team handled everything — the judge, the lawyers, even Julian’s attempts to follow us.
Once we were alone, she told me everything.
Twenty-seven years ago, when I was only a few months old, there had been a kidnapping attempt on our family. My father had been a powerful man too. The kidnappers had taken me during the chaos.
My father had died trying to get me back.
Eleanor had spent decades searching. She had never given up hope.
“I changed my name and built an empire so no one could ever hurt us again,” she said. “But I never stopped looking for you.”
She showed me photos. Baby pictures. DNA results she had quietly obtained after seeing me in the news months earlier (I had been mentioned in a small article about Julian’s company).
“I knew the moment I saw your eyes,” she whispered. “They’re mine.”
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I sat there in shock, one hand on my belly, trying to process that my entire life had been a lie.
And that the man I had married — the man who was trying to leave me with nothing while eight months pregnant — had just made an enemy far more powerful than he could ever imagine.
