The moment the newborn was handed to her, the husband stormed into the hospital room, stared at the baby’s unusually white skin, and sneered, “Why is she White? You really think I’ll believe she’s mine?” He demanded an immediate divorce before the doctor could explain the baby’s rare pigmentation condition. She signed the papers without begging. Three weeks later, the DNA test proved he was indeed the father-and the final divorce decree revealed that by walking away, he had just legally forfeited…
The exhausted, weeping woman in the hospital bed was officially dead. The apex predator had resurrected.
I returned to the Buckhead estate under the cloak of night, escorted by Naomi and a private security detail. The house was exactly as I had left it, an architectural marvel of glass and steel, entirely unbreached by Marcus’s desperate attempts to continue reading …
