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CHAPTER 1
Last Updated:
2025-12-23 08:28:43
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my Billionaire’s baby 30
Louis’s POVNormalcy was a fragile, precious thing. We clung to it like a life raft. Katie started at her new, absurdly secure private school. Sierra began working with the architects and bakers to design a flagship location for “Savarina,” a patisserie concept that would be part of the Katherine Hope Initiative’s vocational wing. It was her dream, reborn in fire and gold. She was in her element, her eyes alight with a passion that had nothing to do with threats or security briefings.For two weeks, the monster in Sydney was silent. The ledger showed the monthly retainer payment had been received. No emails, no assessments. It was as if Alistair Ford was just a wealthy, reclusive man enjoying his retirement.I almost let myself believe it.Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, my assistant’s nervous voice came over the intercom. “Mr. Trevane, there’s a… a Mr. Donovan Shaw here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment. He says it’s urgent, and that you’d want to see him. He mentioned… he me
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Sierra’s POV The week that followed was the strangest of my life. It felt like living in the calm eye of a hurricane we had hired to protect us.There were no more threatening texts. No sinister figures in grainy photos. Instead, I received a single, efficient email from an address named “AFord Consulting.” It contained a detailed, three-page security assessment of our estate, pointing out two vulnerabilities in the perimeter fence our own team had missed. The tone was cold, professional, utterly devoid of emotion. It was signed, *A. Ford*.Elias Crowe was already at work.Louis handled the correspondence, his responses just as clipped and businesslike. It was a transaction. A monstrous, necessary transaction. But seeing him interface with the man who had threatened to hurt Katie made my skin crawl.The psychological whiplash was severe. One day I was tasting genuine peace, the next I was co-signing a deal with the devil. I’d lie awake at night, Louis’s steady breath against my neck,
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Louis’s POVSierra was silent on the ride back, her face turned to the window, her profile carved from marble. I watched the live feed from the car, my hands clenched into fists on my desk. I had heard every word. The threat to Katie. The blackmail. The *recording*.My own voice, coolly offering Victor exile, played back in my head. It was a conversation that could be twisted a dozen ways by a prosecutor. At best, it was unethical. At worst, it was criminal conspiracy. Crowe was right—the stink would never leave. The Katherine Hope Initiative would be stillborn. Sierra’s hard-won public respect would evaporate. And Katie… her name would be dragged through a legal and media sewer.The car hadn’t even stopped at the porte-cochere before I was out the front door. I pulled Sierra from the vehicle and into my arms, holding her tight. I could feel the fine tremors running through her frame.“He has a recording,” she whispered into my chest.“I know.” I guided her inside, straight to the st
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Sierra’s POVThe wire was a tiny, cold disc against my skin, just below my collarbone. The panic button was a smooth, flat pea in my bra strap. They felt like foreign objects, like tumors of fear grafted onto my body. Claudette had chosen my outfit—cream-colored trousers, a simple silk shell, a lightweight trench coat. “Elegant, unthreatening, easy to move in,” she’d said with chilling practicality.Louis hadn’t slept. He’d spent the night in his study with Marcus and a team of security specialists, mapping the botanical gardens inch by inch, programming earpieces, running scenarios. I’d finally crawled into bed at 3 AM, finding the sheets cold on his side.Now, in the grey afternoon light, he stood before me in the foyer, adjusting the lapel of my coat. His hands were steady, but his eyes were a turbulent sea of fear and fury.“Remember,” he said, his voice rough. “You are not alone. I will be in your ear every second. Marcus will be thirty feet away, dressed as a gardener. There are
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Louis’s POV At 8:00 AM sharp, Sierra walked into my study. She wore dark jeans and a simple sweater, her hair pulled back. She looked like she meant business. She carried a notebook and a pen.Marcus, standing by the screens, gave a slight, approving nod. My mother, who had insisted on attending—"This concerns the family's security, I am family"—sat in a wingback chair, a silent observer.“Alright,” I began, gesturing to the main screen where Marcus had pulled up a file. “Elias Crowe. Forty years old. Former military intelligence, dishonorably discharged for unspecified ‘ethical breaches.’ Went private fifteen years ago. He’s a ghost. No fixed address, uses burn phones, operates through a network of cutouts. He wasn’t Victor’s employee. He was a contractor. High-end, discrete surveillance and… problem solving.”“Problem solving,” Sierra repeated, her voice flat. “What does that mean?”Marcus answered. “It means he makes problems go away. Sometimes through blackmail. Sometimes through
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Sierra’s POVThe morning after the gala, I woke up wrapped in Louis, our limbs tangled, the scent of his skin and my faded perfume mingling on the sheets. Sunlight poured in, bold and confident. A smile touched my lips before I even opened my eyes. We had done it. I had done it.The memory of the night replayed like a beautiful film—the applause, the weight of his gaze as I spoke, the feel of his hand steady on my back, the way he looked at me when the dress came off. For the first time, I felt like I belonged. Not as an impostor, but as his equal.He was already awake, propped on an elbow, watching me. His expression was soft, satisfied. “Good morning, Ms. Trevane.”The name, said like that in the quiet morning, felt like a caress. “Good morning.”He kissed me, a slow, lazy kiss that promised a day spent in this bed. But the real world, in the form of a five-year-old tornado, had other plans. A door slammed down the hall, followed by the quick patter of feet.“Mommy! Daddy Louis! The
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