Chapter 6

Harrison’s POV

“What do you mean you still haven’t found her? I’m paying you to do your job, so do it!”

“I’m doing everything I can—”

 “Clearly it’s not enough!” 

I slammed my hand down on the desk hard enough that everything on it jumped, pens rolling off the edge and clattering to the floor, my anger finally boiling over after months of useless reports, months of nothing. 

The office door opened without a knock and my mother walked in carrying something wrapped in a blue blanket. I froze, my hand still raised.

“Mother? What are you—”

She crossed the room and stood right in front of my desk, pulling back the blanket to reveal a tiny infant. He was sleeping, his little face scrunched up and red, his tiny fists curled near his cheeks.

“This is your son,” she announced flatly, holding him out toward me. “Estelle gave birth to him. She abandoned him at the hospital and left the country.”

The room went completely silent except for the sound of my own breathing, too loud in my ears. I stared at the baby, unable to process what she’d just said, my brain refusing to catch up.

“That’s impossible,” I said finally, hoarsely. “Estelle would never—”

“Wouldn’t she?” my mother interrupted coldly. “She gave birth to this boy three weeks ago. She was planning to have him aborted, Harrison. Can you imagine?”

My hands clenched into fists on the desk, my nails digging into my palms. “That’s—”

“She couldn’t afford it, apparently,” my mother continued, her lip curling slightly. “So she decided to give him up for adoption instead. Just hand him over to strangers rather than raise your son herself.”

“No. You’re lying. Estelle wouldn’t—how did you—where did you get him?” I demanded, standing up abruptly.

“I have contacts everywhere, darling. The hospital called me the moment they realized whose child this was.” She smiled thinly. “The doctor was very understanding about redirecting the adoption. After all, why should strangers raise an Emerson heir?”

I couldn’t speak. My throat had closed up completely and I just kept staring at the baby in her arms, this tiny person who Estelle had tried to—

“Look at him,” my mother commanded, holding the infant closer. “Look at his face, his features. He’s the spitting image of you when you were born. Don’t you see it?”

Against my better judgment, I leaned forward and looked. The baby did have my nose, my chin. His hair was dark, his skin tone similar to mine, but that didn’t mean—

“How do you know he’s mine?”

My mother pulled out a folded document from her purse and dropped it on my desk. “DNA test. Ninety-nine point nine percent match. This is your son, whether you want to believe it or not.”

I picked up the paper and scanned it quickly, my heart pounding harder. The results were right there in black and white. This baby was mine.

“The doctor contacted me,” my mother explained. “They wanted to verify paternity before proceeding. I had the DNA test done immediately. Once I confirmed he was yours, I stepped in. I made sure he came to us instead of going to strangers.”

“You just took him?”

“I rescued him,” my mother corrected firmly. “From being abandoned to people who have no idea what the Emerson name means. You should be thanking me, Harrison.”

I couldn’t speak. I just kept staring at the baby in her arms, this tiny person who was supposedly my child.

“She left him,” my mother said softly. “What kind of mother does that? I always told you she wasn’t good enough for this family, Harrison. Her true nature has finally shown itself.”

I reached out slowly. “Give him to me.”

She placed the baby in my arms carefully and I held him awkwardly, terrified I’d drop him or hold him wrong. He was so light, so fragile. His little hand curled around my finger reflexively and something twisted painfully in my chest.

My son. This was my son.

“When are you going to finalize things with Lyndsey?” my mother asked briskly, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation to be having. “The girl has been waiting patiently for months now. It’s time to make it official, don’t you think?”

“I’m not thinking about marriage right now,” I said distantly, not looking up from the infant’s face. “Right now, I need to focus on him. He needs proper care, a stable home—”

“Of course,” my mother agreed smoothly. “I’ve already arranged for a nanny and—”

“I’ll take care of him myself,” I interrupted firmly. “Or at least, I’ll be involved. He’s my responsibility.”

My mother’s lips pressed into a thin line but she nodded. “Very well. What will you name him?”

I hadn’t even thought about that. Names, cribs, bottles, diapers—I knew nothing about babies. But looking down at this tiny face, I realized I wasn’t letting him go, wasn’t giving him to anyone else.

“Eric,” I called out without looking away from the baby.

“Yes, Mr. Harrison?” Eric answered immediately from where he was still gathering papers.

“Stop the search for Estelle,” I ordered flatly. “Stop all investigations, all inquiries, everything. I don’t want to hear her name again.”

“Sir? Are you certain—”

“I’m certain,” I snapped. “She made her choice when she abandoned my son. We’re done.”

Eric nodded quickly and left the office, closing the door quietly behind him.

My mother smiled approvingly. “You’re making the right decision, Harrison. Focus on your future now, not your past.”

“Right,” I said quietly, looking down at my son instead of at her.

So precious, and Estelle didn’t want him at all.

She had given birth to this little baby and left him behind without a second thought. What kind of mother did that?

I sat there holding him, hating Estelle for what she’d tried to do, hating myself more for still wanting to hear her voice.