“I have a home on Long Island,” he said. “You’ll have a private suite, medical supervision, transportation, and protection. I’ll clear every debt connected to this bakery.

You’ll be paid twenty-five thousand dollars a week until Lucas accepts another feeding arrangement.”

Hannah looked down at the sleeping baby. The amount could erase every bill stacked beneath her apartment door. It could pay the rent her former boyfriend had ignored before stealing their savings.

It could reopen the bakery her father had built and she had spent ten years trying to save. But money was not the reason she answered.

“I’ll come,” she said. “But not for twenty-five thousand dollars.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “Then name your price.”