Chapter 7 - The Bloodline
Victoria took a step back, her heels catching on the Persian rug. She looked from Julian to the giant screen, and then at Martha, who was watching her with cold, quiet pity.
"Julian... please," Victoria whimpered, dropping her arrogant facade completely, her hands coming up in a desperate plea. "I... I was overwhelmed! I have post-partum depression! I didn't mean to hurt him! The pressure of this house... the loneliness..."
"You don't have post-partum depression, Victoria," Martha said quietly from her armchair, lowering the ice pack from her purple cheek. "You didn't give birth to him."
The room went dead silent.
Victoria turned her head toward Martha as if she had been shot. "What did you say?"
"Leo isn't your son," Julian said flatly, his voice ringing with a terrifying, iron finality. "He is the biological son of my late wife, Clara, who died in childbirth three months ago. You were hired as a surrogate mother for his legal papers to avoid a public trust dispute with my board of directors. You signed a non-disclosure agreement and a parental rights waiver before we ever stood at the altar."
Victoria’s chest heaved. The grand, elaborate fantasy she had built in her mind—the lie that she held the ultimate leverage over Julian Sterling through his heir—shattered into a million sharp, useless pieces.
"You... you used me," Victoria gasped, tears of rage and humiliation streaming down her face. "You made me play the mother!"
"I paid you twenty million dollars to carry my deceased wife's child to term," Julian corrected coldly. "And you guaranteed his safety. You broke the contract the moment you laid your hand on him."
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He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek black fountain pen along with a thick stack of legal documents. He threw them onto the coffee table before her.
"Sign," Julian said. "Or the police officers waiting at the gate will enter this house and arrest you for child abuse and aggravated assault."
