I was carrying the child of a man I barely knew.

A man who might be a murderer.

And if I wasn’t careful, he would find out that I wasn’t Britney.

I needed a plan.

The only person I could trust was Fay.

One evening, as the mansion lay in eerie silence, I locked myself in the bathroom and dialed her number.

"Mia?" Fay’s voice was hushed, cautious.

"I need you to dig deeper," I whispered, my fingers clutching the edge of the sink. "Find out everything you can about Duke Trayson. Every deal, every enemy, every secret. I need to know what I married into."

Fay hesitated. "Mia, are you sure? You’re already playing with fire."

"I don’t have a choice," I murmured. "I need to know the truth."

A heavy sigh. Then, "I’ll do it."

As I ended the call, a voice from behind sent a sharp jolt through my spine.

"You’re not my real mommy."

My breath caught.

I turned slowly, my heart pounding against my ribcage.

Lukas stood by the doorway, his small frame barely illuminated by the dim light of the hallway. His face was unreadable, but his eyes—those wide, knowing eyes—bore into mine like he had unraveled my entire existence.

A shaky smile forced its way onto my lips. "Lukas, what are you talking about?"

He frowned, his little hands curling into fists. "Mommy never gives me milk. Because I’m allergic."

Cold dread slithered down my spine.

I had given him a glass of milk that morning.

Shit.

I took a careful step forward, my voice soft. "I—I forgot, sweetheart. It won’t happen again."

But Lukas only took a step back, his lip trembling. Without another word, he turned and ran down the hallway.

Straight to Duke.

My pulse skyrocketed as I chased after him, my bare feet hitting the cold floor. "Lukas, wait!"

But it was too late.

Lukas threw open the door to Duke’s study, his voice shrill. "Daddy! Mommy gave me milk!"

Duke, who had been sitting at his desk, immediately stood, his sharp blue eyes snapping to me. His expression darkened, unreadable.

"What?" His voice was dangerously low.

I opened my mouth, struggling to find the right words. "Duke, I—"

"Come here," he ordered.

My legs felt heavy as I stepped forward, my hands clammy. The air in the room had shifted, thick with something suffocating.

"Why did you give him milk?!" Duke asked, his tone eerily calm.

I swallowed hard. "I wasn’t thinking. It slipped my mind."

His gaze didn’t waver. "Slipped your mind?"

The way he said it sent chills down my spine.