CHAPTER 3

Liam’s POV

The phone rang while I was at my desk, and for a second I considered ignoring it. I had told Ivan I didn’t want any calls, but when his voice came through the intercom, I knew something was wrong.

“Sir,” he said, calm but firm. “It’s Dr. Miranda. She insists.”

I straightened in my chair, my hand tightening around the receiver. “Put her through.”

“Mr. Reynolds,” Miranda’s voice was professional, clipped, like always. “The surrogate has delivered. A healthy baby girl.”

For a moment, I couldn’t move. My throat felt dry. “A girl?”

“Yes,” she said. “Strong lungs. Seven pounds, two ounces. Stable vitals.”

My hand gripped the desk. I forced my voice steady. “And the surrogate?”

“Gone,” Miranda replied. “She left shortly after delivery.”

I closed my eyes, my jaw tight. Of course she did. “I see.”

“We’ll keep the baby until your arrangements are in place. Congratulations, Mr. Reynolds.”

I hung up without answering.

Ivan was already standing in the doorway, watching me. His expression didn’t change, but I knew he had heard enough.

“Congratulations, sir,” he said.

I pushed back from the desk, standing. “Car.”

“Yes, sir.”

---

The drive was quiet. City lights blurred past as the car sped through the streets. My thoughts were heavier than the silence. A girl. My daughter.

Ivan broke the quiet. “Would you like me to inform your grandmother?”

“No,” I said. “I’ll tell her myself.”

He nodded, nothing more. Ivan never pressed.

I stared out the window, my reflection staring back. Father. The word didn’t seem real.

---

The mansion gates opened as the car approached. Lights glowed in every window. I had expected it—Margaret always knew things before I told her.

When I stepped out, she was already on the steps. My grandmother, sharp as ever, pearls catching the light. Clara stood beside her, practically bouncing on her heels.

“So it’s true,” Margaret said. Her tone left no room for doubt. “At last, a grandchild.”

Clara rushed down to me, her smile wide. “A girl, Liam! You have a daughter! Do you realize what this means?”

I kept my face blank, but inside something twisted. “I need to see her.”

Margaret’s voice was cool and commanding. “The family must be informed. The press will expect a statement by morning.”

“Later,” I said flatly.

Her eyes narrowed. “This isn’t just about you. The Reynolds name is—”

Clara cut her off, grabbing my arm. “Don’t start tonight, Grandma. He hasn’t even held her yet. Let him breathe.”

I pulled away gently. “I’m going to her.”

Margaret’s voice followed me as I walked inside. “We will discuss this, Liam. You cannot avoid it.”

I ignored her.

---

The house was quiet past the noise of the entrance. My steps slowed as I reached the nursery. The faint cry of a baby leaked through the door.

I pushed it open.

There she was. Small. Fragile. Wrapped tight in a white blanket, her tiny fists waving in the air. Her cries were sharp, piercing, but the moment I saw her, my chest tightened in a way I had never known.

I stepped closer. My hands hovered over her, unsure. I had closed billion-dollar deals without blinking, but this, this made me hesitate.

Slowly, I lifted her into my arms. She was light, impossibly light, but the weight of her settled into me with crushing force.

Her cries softened against my chest. I rocked her gently, not sure how I even knew to. “Shh,” I whispered, my voice low. “I’ve got you.”

She blinked, her tiny mouth moving as if she wanted to speak.

Something broke in me then. All the walls I had built, all the cold distance I prided myself on—they fell apart in a second.

I looked down at her face, at the eyes that seemed too big for her tiny frame. My daughter. My blood. My responsibility.

“Diana,” I whispered. The name slipped out before I thought about it. “You’re Diana.”

She blinked again, quiet now, as if she had accepted it.

My throat burned. I pressed my lips to her forehead. “I’ll protect you,” I promised. “Always. No matter what it takes.”

Her small hand curled against my shirt, and for the first time in years, I felt something I hadn’t let myself feel, Hope.

---

I don’t know how long I stayed in that room, rocking her, memorizing her face. Hours maybe.

Clara peeked in once, smiling softly. “She’s beautiful, Liam. She looks like you when you were a baby.”

I didn’t answer. I just kept holding her.

Margaret appeared later, her voice stern even as she lowered it. “The world will want to know her name. We must set things in motion.”

“Diana,” I said without looking up. “Her name is Diana.”

Margaret’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected me to decide so quickly. “Very well. Diana Reynolds.”

My eyes flashed, but I didn’t argue. Not tonight.

When they left, I stayed. I whispered to my daughter until her tiny breaths evened out in sleep.

And as I laid her back in the crib, one thought echoed through me.

I would protect her from everything. Family, enemies, even fate itself.

She was mine.