Chapter 9 - Wendy Came to Take My Baby
The police officer looked embarrassed.
That was my first clue Wendy had oversold the emergency.
“She said a child was being unlawfully withheld,” he explained.
Rachel crossed her arms.
“There is an active temporary parenting agreement.”
“I understand.”
Wendy did not.
“She won’t let Luca see his son.”
“That is false,” Rachel said.
“He gets supervised visits.”
“Supervised!”
Wendy practically spat the word.
“My son is not a criminal.”
Nobody answered.
Given the active corporate investigation, the sentence felt increasingly optimistic.
Luca appeared behind us.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
“Helping you.”
“I didn’t ask you to call the police.”
“You’re too weak right now.”
There it was.
The family dynamic in one sentence.
Luca’s jaw tightened.
The officer looked at me.
“Is the baby here?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Wendy looked shocked.
“Where is he?”
I didn’t answer.
Leo was with Dad and a nanny I trusted.
Wendy pointed at me.
“She’s hiding him!”
The officer sighed.
“Ma’am, custody disputes are civil matters unless there’s evidence of immediate danger.”
“There is danger.”
“What danger?”
“Her father is controlling everything.”
The officer blinked.
“Her father?”
“Arthur Sterling.”
He stared for half a second.
Then caught himself.
Rachel said:
“Mr. Sterling has no custody role.”
Wendy continued.
“They have private security.”
“So?”
“They’re intimidating us.”
I almost laughed.
Dad’s security team had one standing instruction:
Keep photographers away from Leo.
That was it.
Wendy’s own social media posts had caused gossip pages to identify me.
Photographers appeared outside Dad’s building the next morning.
One headline read:
SECRET STERLING HEIRESS IN EXPLOSIVE MARRIAGE BREAKDOWN
Another:
BILLIONAIRE’S DAUGHTER HID IDENTITY FROM HUSBAND FOR YEARS
The story spread because money made everything more entertaining.
Nobody cared about childbirth.
They cared about secrets.
Wendy loved it.
She gave an unnamed “family source” quote to one tabloid:
Luca feels deceived and is focused only on protecting his son.
I knew it was Wendy because she used the phrase “protecting his son” in every text.
Dad wanted his communications team involved.
I refused.
“If we respond, it grows.”
“They’re attacking you.”
“They’re baiting us.”
Dad hated restraint when silence hurt someone he loved.
I understood that.
But the truth didn’t need a press tour.
Then Wendy made her worst mistake.
She appeared on a morning talk show.
Not national.
Local.
But clips spread online.
She never used my name.
She didn’t need to.
“My son married someone who hid an enormous family fortune from him.”
The host asked:
“Do you think money changed the marriage?”
Wendy sighed dramatically.
“My son loved her when he thought she had nothing.”
That clip went viral.
So did the next part.
“He missed the delivery because he had been told everything was under control.”
I stared at the screen.
Dad said:
“That is a lie.”
“I know.”
“And provable.”
“Yes.”
I still had the call logs.
Texts.
Hospital admission time.
Even better, Sabrina had heard Luca admit what happened.
Then the host asked Wendy:
“Do you regret telling your daughter-in-law that women have been giving birth for thousands of years?”
Wendy froze.
The clip became instant internet gasoline.
She attempted to laugh it off.
“It was taken out of context.”
“How?”
“Well, childbirth is natural.”
The host’s expression said everything.
Within twenty-four hours, the public narrative changed.
Not because I spoke.
Because Wendy did.
Comments under the video were brutal.
I didn’t enjoy them.
I turned them off.
Public humiliation was not healing.
But Wendy couldn’t.
She responded to strangers.
Argued.
Defended Luca.
Insulted critics.
Then someone posted a screenshot.
A photograph from her birthday dinner.
Time stamp: 11:48 p.m.
Luca smiling beside a birthday cake.
My hospital records showed I had been admitted at 8:52.
Another photo surfaced.
12:17 a.m.
Luca drinking champagne.
By morning, the story was no longer about a secret heiress.
It was about a husband partying while his wife labored.
Luca called me.
“You leaked those photos.”
“No.”
“Mom says—”
“Stop.”
Silence.
“For once in your life, stop telling me what your mother says.”
He went quiet.
Then:
“I’m sorry.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“For which part?”
“All of it.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I mean it.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell Wendy to stop.”
“I have.”
“And?”
“She won’t listen.”
I almost laughed.
“Now you understand.”
That silenced him.
Later that afternoon, Dad and I walked through the park with Leo.
No photographers.
No phones.
Just trees.
Dad pushed the stroller.
“You know,” he said, “I hated Luca before it was fashionable.”
I laughed unexpectedly.
“Dad.”
“I’m serious.”
“You barely knew him.”
“I knew he called your job a hobby once.”
I stared.
“You remember that?”
“I remember everything that hurts you.”
The tenderness in his voice almost undid me.
I looked away.
“Why didn’t we talk for two years?”
He stopped walking.
“Because I thought giving you space meant respecting you.”
“And I thought you not calling meant you didn’t care.”
He nodded.
“Two stubborn people.”
“Runs in the family.”
“Unfortunately.”
Leo made a tiny sound.
We both looked down instantly.
Dad smiled.
“He’ll have us trained within weeks.”
“He already does.”
That evening, Rachel called.
“We identified the woman Luca was seeing.”
I sat down.
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“Her name is Natalie Pierce.”
“Do I know her?”
“You’ve met her.”
My breath stopped.
“Where?”
Rachel hesitated.
“Your baby shower.”
Everything inside me went silent.
Natalie.
Blonde.
Warm smile.
She had hugged me.
She had brought a silver picture frame.
She had told me Luca “couldn’t stop talking about becoming a dad.”
I remembered her now.
She worked at Kessler.
Legal department.
My voice came out thin.
“How long?”
“Possibly nine months.”
Nine months.
I looked toward Leo.
The affair had begun around the time I became pregnant.
But Rachel wasn’t finished.
“Natalie contacted us this morning.”
“Why?”
“She wants immunity from Kessler’s internal action in exchange for cooperation.”
My stomach tightened.
“Cooperation about what?”
“The financial scheme.”
Of course.
Then Rachel added:
“And she says Luca told her he planned to divorce you after the baby was born.”
That hurt.
But the next sentence hurt more.
May you like
“He was waiting to see whether your inheritance was real first.”
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