Page 126 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

“It isn’t like that.”

“No?” he snapped. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you wanted to know how much the Callahan name was worth before you got in deep.”

“That is not what this is.”

“Then what is it, Sutton?” His pulse hammered and betrayal sat thick in his throat. “You after our money or our land? What was the plan? Get me to fall in love with you, marry you, and then you get a piece of the ranch?”

She wrapped her arms around her waist as if the motion alone could keep her from doubling over. “God no.”

“Then help me understand. Because right now, all I see is a woman I trusted doing quiet research on my family like we’re a prize to be won.”

Sutton’s breath hitched. “You are not a prize.”

“Then why the PI?” he demanded. “Why the file on me?”

“Maybe because you are the threat. Or were a threat.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. What I do know is that everything I did was for Lynlee’s happiness, so that’s why I hired a PI.”

He went still.

She forced herself to meet his eyes. “Not because of your money or your land, but because of your DNA.”

Colter stared like she’d spoken in another language. “Explain.”

Sutton drew a trembling breath. “Before Lynlee was born, I was a surrogate. I signed up to carry a baby for a couple who couldn’t. I went through the physicals, the psych evals, contracts, doctor appointments, everything. And then, only a few months into the pregnancy, the couple walked away. They backed out, leaving me to deal with the fallout.”

Colter resisted the urge to step forward and pull her into his arms.

“I was given a choice,” she said. “Terminate, adopt, or become a mother.” Her eyes shined, but she didn’t look away. “I chose motherhood.”

He blinked, absorbing that.

“I didn’t know who the father was,” Sutton continued. “All I knew was that the sperm donor had been chosen from an anonymous bank. No name. No identity. No medical history. Nothing I could trust beyond a checklist or physical attributes, hobbies, and what university he went to.”

Those three words struck him like a hammer.

University.

Attributes.

Anonymous donor.

And suddenly he was twenty again—sophomore year, idealistic, signing forms in a clean white clinic because a counselor said biological donations could “change lives.” He remembered thinking it would help someone, somewhere, someday. He just never imagined that someday would be standing barefoot in front of him holding his whole world in her hands.

He felt his pulse scrape up his throat. “I donated in college. I was trying to do something good. I never thought⁠—”

She nodded before he could finish. “I know.”

That stopped him cold. “You know.”

“Yes.” She let out a shaky breath. “Once I traced it back, once everything lined up—the school, the age, the donor notes—it all pointed to you.”

She didn’t look triumphant. She looked wrecked—brave but terrified.

“I’ve known for a long time, Colter. I’ve known Lynlee is yours.”

The room tilted and his equilibrium buckled, a physical stagger his feet didn’t actually make. His brain tried to organize the facts, but emotion slammed in faster.

Lynlee, with her green eyes—Callahan green. Her fearless little boss-voice and the way she ran at him like she’d always known him.