Page 19 of Secret Baby Daddy

Jonah Reed.

Twelve years ago, Jonah handed me a physical file folder in a rain-soaked alley.

Now his personal authorization key is stamped onto a video threatening to tear the Merrick family apart.

He tried to tell me the truth about the fire.

I followed bad orders and locked him in a safe house, and men with guns breached the location three hours later.

I told myself for years that those men found the safe house on their own, through some failure in the address’s chain of custody that had nothing to do with me.

I no longer believe that story.

Someone inside the operation gave up the location.

I have spent twelve years quietly building the kind of career that would let me, eventually, find out who.

I did not expect the answer to arrive wrapped inside a blackmail file targeting a girl who was still in school when Jonah died.

A knock on the study door.

“Calder.”

Piper, through the wood.

“Cordelia wants us in the main drawing room immediately. We have a guest.”

I straighten my jacket and unlock the door.

Piper stands in the hallway, blonde hair pinned into a severe knot, her laptop held against her chest like a shield.

“Who is the guest?”

“A representative from Northbridge Capital.”

She turns on her heels and walks toward the drawing room.

“He bypassed the lobby security completely. He claims he has an appointment with Cordelia to discuss an acquisition.”

I match her pace without being asked, the way I have started doing without quite deciding to, half a step ahead at doorways and half a step behind in open rooms, the geometry of protection so automatic by now I barely register performing it.

Piper has not once thanked me for it.

I have not once expected her to.

We enter the drawing room together.

The storm outside paints the windows gray.

Cordelia sits rigidly at the head of the dining table.

A man stands near the unlit fireplace.

He turns around as we walk in.

My blood turns to ice.

I have not seen this face in twelve years, and I have thought about it more often than I would ever admit under oath.