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“Sir, I found your son beside the dumpster outside your mansion,” a soaking wet little girl said as she handed over a crying baby wrapped in a black trash bag. The billionaire, declared sterile twelve years earlier, didn’t panic. He stared into the child’s eyes and asked, “Who sent you here to play this sick game?” The little girl pointed a trembling finger at the top of the grand staircase, whispering, “The lady who told us to throw him away.”

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are staying under this roof,” I declared. The vibration of my own voice surprised me. “I will sign whatever temporary emergency custody documents you require, and I will cover every conceivable expense. But they do not cross that threshold.”

Casey’s eyes narrowed, studying the sudden, fierce geometry of my posture. She recognized the look of a man who continue reading …

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