Damien
I read the headline four times before I let myself believe it. Adrian Blackwood's secret love child. A five-year-old son nobody knew existed, surfacing out of nowhere like some cheap plot from a daytime drama, except this wasn't fiction, and the implications of it were about to detonate everything I'd spent the last six years quietly building toward.
I closed my office door and poured myself a drink I didn't particularly want, just to have something to do with my hands while I thought it through.
A son. An actual, biological son. Not some distant cousin's kid, not a nephew, not a scenario the board could argue around with clever legal language about succession planning. A direct heir, blood of Adrian's blood, which meant every carefully worded conversation I'd had over the past t
