Chapter 2 Give Claire The Child She Can't Have Herself

The words came out of Declan's captivating lips devastated Melinda, every beat of her heart seeming to shatter beneath his gaze. Tension made her clutch her torn dress, skin drained of color.

"Declan, after two years of plotting, you stole my father's empire and brought your beloved woman back. Wasn't destroying my life enough for you? Now you want me as a surrogate?"

Bitterness mixed with tears as Melinda managed a hollow laugh, the ache in her chest nearly unbearable. "Keep dreaming. If Claire meant everything, then why bother marrying me?"

A cold sneer tugged at Declan's mouth. "Is that ignorance or just another act?"

Confusion flickered across her face. "What are you saying?"

Emotion dropped from his voice. "Your father kidnapped Claire two years ago and imprisoned her because you wanted to marry me and he thought she was a threat. Now, do you understand why I married and then divorced you?"

The shock froze Melinda in place. Denial spilled out in a shaky whisper. "No. Claire went overseas, didn't she?"

"Overseas? I found her three months back, hidden in your father's home, battered and broken. She's even lost her womb. Her mother died saving her life. That woman was like a mother to me." Each word struck heavy as stone. "So tell me, Melinda—does your family still look so blameless?"

Panic widened Melinda's eyes. Desperation pushed the words from her lips. "My dad isn't capable of that. There must be some misunderstanding..."

Shadows deepened in Declan's expression. "Sign the contract. Give Claire the child she can't have herself." Hatred blazed in his stare, unwavering.

Melinda's hope crumbled. Did he really love Claire that much?

She staggered backward, shredding both the contract and the check with trembling hands. "I'd rather die than be a surrogate for you. Don't ever ask again."

She loved him dearly. No one could expect her to keep swallowing this brand of cruelty.

Declan's gaze lingered on her, taking in the flush on her cheeks—traces of longing still etched there, leaving her loveliness fractured.

Something about her always drew him in. For two long years, he'd tried to keep his distance, but in the end, he still couldn't resist her.

His eyes, cold and unreadable, gave nothing away. Narrowing them, he spoke with chilling patience. "Bold claims, Melinda. But I'll be waiting for the day you come crawling back."

Bolting for the door, Melinda fled the hotel, plunging headlong into the biting night.

Every trace of Declan's touch, the heat and dominance he left behind, now twisted inside her as cold shards cutting at her chest.

Pain made her legs buckle. She sagged against a wall, teeth chattering, only now feeling the sting of tears blurring her vision.

She lifted her head and drifted toward what once had been her home—her father's place.

But then, she realized that place wasn't her home anymore.

Medical bills for her father and brother piled so high that her only refuge was a cramped basement flat.

She no longer lived the life of a spoiled socialite. Declan had stripped that away and left her little more than a plaything for his amusement.

She could never forget the day everything collapsed. Declan had claimed her father's office, tossed the divorce agreement onto the floor, and pressed it in place with his shoe, leaving her no choice but to kneel and sign.

Refusal meant her father, Sebastian Dawson, who'd thrown himself from a rooftop, would be denied urgent care.

Time had marched on, three months since that moment, but Melinda still burned with that same hatred, remembering her trembling hand as she scribbled her name on the document.

Those endless nights had nearly broken her. Still, every time she thought about giving up, she found another reason to survive.

Looking back, it was her love for Declan that had brought about her family's ruin.

Yet her feelings for him stretched far beyond a couple of years.

She had fallen for him ever since the day he rescued her and suffered both injury and temporary blindness.

But when they met again, he had forgotten those old memories. As the castaway son of the Gibson family, he had been driven by ambition to marry her, and kept his heart frozen.

Now, Melinda could finally see the motive behind Declan's destruction of the Dawson family.

Still, her heart resisted. Her father couldn't be that cruel. There had to be some misunderstanding.

Night swallowed the city as Melinda made her way back to the hospital, desperate for answers only her father could give.

But Sebastian was now in a vegetative state. She couldn't get any answers from him.

Eyes lingering on her father, she saw a shell of the man he once was—reduced to frailty, though just months earlier he'd commanded power and respect as a business giant.

He had always been fair, his love for his children never in question, his affection for Melinda especially clear.

A decade earlier, when her mother's betrayal ended their marriage, he chose grace and allowed the divorce for the children's sake.

Could a man with so much gentleness in him be guilty of such cruelty?

Her words were soft, almost a plea. "Dad, you told me two years ago—Declan was only friends with Claire, and he married me willingly. You never lied to me. You never locked Claire away, right?"

Melinda's mind drifted to her father's longtime secretaries. If anything secret or underhanded happened, those two would have known about it.

Quickly, she tried dialing both their numbers, but neither line went through.

Further digging revealed a troubling detail: both secretaries were fired and returned to their hometowns the very day her father jumped off the rooftop.

Could that really be a mere coincidence?

Suspicion creased her brow. But Declan had taken the reins, and it made sense that he had fired those loyal to her father.

She decided to find the secretaries. "Maybe they could prove Dad had no contact with Claire," she murmured.

"Claire? Dad met that woman!" Suddenly, a voice cut in from the doorway.

A jolt of surprise ran through Melinda, and she raised her head.