Chapter 6 - the stolen heir
Spencer did not speak to her in public. With a single gesture to his head of security, the boutique’s private VIP salon was cleared and locked down. Charlee was escorted to the front terrace by Mabel, who had arrived in the second car, while Spencer and Pamela stood facing each other across a circular table of smoked glass.
Pamela was shaking. Her hands were pressed flat on the table, her breath coming in ragged intervals.
"Explain," Spencer said. Just one word. It carried the weight of a death sentence.
"When we broke off the engagement four years ago," Pamela began, tears finally spilling over her mascara, "you ordered your biological samples at St. Jude destroyed. You signed the paperwork. But Daniel Cross was the one who handled the legal filings."
Spencer’s eyes narrowed instantly. "Daniel?"
"The clinic board was under immense financial pressure, Spencer," Pamela said, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "Two years ago, St. Jude was secretly acquired by an offshore holding company. I didn't know who owned it. But six months ago, I was forced into the executive lab late at night. They had your file. They had the cryo-canister that was supposed to have been incinerated."
"Who had it, Pamela?"
"A proxy!" she cried out, her composure entirely shattering. "A legal firm representing an anonymous investor! They told me if I didn't perform the procedure using a surrogate they provided, they would revoke my medical license, expose my brother's debts, and destroy my life. They wanted an heir. A child with your verified DNA. A legal weapon to challenge the Warren Trust's direct inheritance clauses!"
Spencer stood motionless, his mind processing the chess board with lightning speed. The Warren Trust held eighty percent of his corporate empire. Under the charter established by his late father, if Spencer died without a legitimate direct descendant, the board retained full voting control. But if a biological child existed, the entire estate defaulted to the child upon Spencer’s death, managed by a court-appointed legal guardian until the age of twenty-five.
"If they wanted an heir," Spencer said, his voice lethal, "why was my son left in an alley behind a dumpster?"
Pamela buried her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling. "Because I stole him back!" she sobbed. "The surrogate gave birth five days ago in an unregistered private facility in Queens. The investors were going to take the baby to Switzerland to hide him until they could execute their plan against you. I couldn't let them do it, Spencer. I couldn't let them turn your flesh and blood into a corporate weapon."
"So you left him in the trash?"
"I was being followed!" she gasped, looking up with wild, terrified eyes. "I swapped cars twice. I made it to the clinic on Tenth to get his medical files, but their security team was already in the parking lot. I hid him where they wouldn't look. I taped your address and your safe code to the blanket. I was supposed to come back for him ten minutes later after I led their van away! But when I doubled back around the block... the box was gone. I thought they had taken him. I thought he was dead!"
Spencer stepped closer to her, his shadow swallowing her completely. "Who authorized the access to my stored genetic file four years ago, Pamela? You didn't do that alone."
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Pamela looked up at him, her pale lips parting, sheer terror freezing the words in her throat. "The authorization came from inside your private network, Spencer. The digital signature was verified using your personal encryption key. The only person who had that key besides you..."
Spencer didn't wait for her to finish the sentence. He turned on his heel and walked out of the salon.
