“Do you know what people in Palm Beach are saying about us?” Barbara took a step toward the bed. “They think we raised a foolish girl who threw her life away.”

“You thought being alone would break me.” I looked up from Kirk’s face. I didn’t shed a tear. “You thought I’d come crawling back to beg.”

“You’re in this mess because you never listened,” Reginald growled. “We tried to guide you, and you ignored us.”

“You never once asked for his father’s name,” I said, brushing my baby’s soft cheek. “You only cared about the family name — and about Raymond.”

“Raymond understands business,” Barbara said coldly. “He cares about this family. Unlike you.”

For twenty-eight years, I had cried every time they turned on me. I had hidden how sharp I was and absorbed their insults just to keep the peace. But that frightened girl died the moment my son was born.

“Then don’t,” I said, my voice level.

“What did you just say?” Barbara blinked, thrown by the fact that I wasn’t crying or apologizing.

“I said don’t accept him.” I held her eyes. “Don’t touch him. Don’t show him to anyone.”

Barbara recovered fast and got back to what she’d actually come for. She reached into her leather bag, drew out a thick yellow folder, and slammed it onto my bedside table hard enough to make the room jump.

“You’re going to sign over your twelve percent of the company. Now.” She jabbed a finger at the paper. “Raymond has found a buyer for the downtown property.

After this ugly little scandal, you’re a liability to the Pembroke name, and we don’t want you anywhere near the board.”