PART 1

It had only been forty-eight hours since Olivia Bennett was wheeled out of surgery after an emergency C-section.

The luxury maternity suite inside a prestigious private hospital in Beverly Hills, California, felt unnaturally cold. But the real ice settled inside Olivia’s chest the moment she forced herself out of bed and stepped into the hallway, one trembling hand pressed against the fresh stitches pulling across her abdomen.

Through the narrow opening of a frosted glass door, she saw something no human being should ever witness.

Her husband, Nathan Caldwell, stood beside the nurses’ station calmly injecting a mild sedative into the IV line of the night nurse.

Ten seconds later, the woman collapsed unconscious over the reception desk.

Olivia stopped breathing.

Pain burned through her stomach as she pressed herself against the wall and watched Nathan slip into the neonatal wing.

A moment later, he emerged carrying their biological son — a large, healthy newborn with rosy cheeks and strong lungs.

Then he quietly walked toward Room Four.

Inside that room rested Vanessa Monroe.

Not a stranger.

Not a business associate.

Vanessa was Nathan’s first love — the woman he swore he had left behind years ago.

The baby Vanessa had delivered prematurely suffered from a severe congenital heart defect. Three of the best pediatric cardiologists in the country had already confirmed the child likely wouldn’t survive more than a month.

Hidden in the shadows of the corridor, Olivia listened carefully.

Nathan’s voice shook with emotion, but every word dripped cruelty.

“Vanessa, sweetheart, this baby is completely healthy,” he whispered, placing Olivia’s son into his mistress’s arms. “From this moment on, he’s yours.”

Vanessa burst into tears.

“And my baby?” she asked weakly.

Nathan kissed her forehead tenderly.

“I’ll let Olivia raise him,” he murmured. “His fate is already decided anyway.”

Vanessa looked horrified.

“Nathan… isn’t this too cruel? She just had surgery two days ago…”

Nathan wrapped his arms around her possessively.

“For you,” he said softly, “I’d let them bury Olivia beside that dying child if I had to.”

Olivia bit down on the back of her hand so hard that blood filled her mouth.

Seven years.