Dominic stepped closer.
“Evelyn, listen carefully. There has been a complication with the merger.”
I laughed once.
It hurt my stitches.
Still worth it.
“A complication,” I repeated. “Is that what you call your daughter?”
Celeste inhaled sharply.
Dominic’s eyes flashed toward her. “Not now.”
But it was too late.
The word daughter had entered the room and changed the air.
Celeste looked at him slowly.
“You said there was no child.”
Dominic kept his eyes on me.
“There wasn’t supposed to be.”
The nurse standing near the monitor froze.
I felt my daughter stir against my chest.
Something cold moved through me.
Not sadness.
Not surprise.
Confirmation.
Dominic reached into his jacket and pulled out folded papers.
“I need you to sign a temporary confidentiality agreement,” he said. “It protects everyone. You, the baby, the company.”
I looked at the papers.
Then at his tuxedo.
“You left your wedding reception to bring me an NDA?”
