Chapter 3

Kendall Rutledge POV:

"Smile for the cameras, darling. Tonight's gala is crucial for my public image before contract negotiations."

Destin stood beside me at the entrance of the Boston Children's Sports Charity Foundation, his fingers lightly resting on my waist as flashbulbs strode across our faces.

He wore a custom black tuxedo, looking every bit the rising sports agent and dedicated professional athlete.

I kept my lips curved in a polished, flawless smile, though my fingers dug into the palm of my clutch until my knuckles burned.

The moment we passed the velvet ropes into the private VIP suite, the flashbulbs vanished, and Destin dropped his hand from my waist as if shedding dead weight.

He walked straight over to the wet bar and poured himself two fingers of scotch.

"There's a special presentation scheduled for the middle of the evening," he said, turning to face me with his glass raised. "The foundation has arranged for an orphan boy whose parents were lost in a regional hockey transit accident. They want us to sign an official adoption intent document on stage as a model couple."

I looked at him across the carpet, feeling the coldness settle deep in my chest.

"An adoption?" I asked calmly. "You never discussed adopting a child with me."

Destin yanked his silk bowtie loose with an impatient jerk. "It's a standard PR move, Kendall! It cements my reputation with the league and secures my contract extension next season. Are you really going to ruin my career over paperwork?"

Before I could answer, the double doors of the suite swung open.

A little boy of about four, dressed in a sharp miniature navy suit, came running across the hardwood floor and threw his arms around Destin's thigh.

"Daddy!"

The high, clear voice sliced through the room.

Destin's face tightened instantly.

He clamped his palm over the boy's mouth, laughing nervously as his eyes darted toward me.

"Kids say the strangest things," Destin stammered, pulling the boy back. "He's been without a father in the group home for so long, he calls every man daddy."

I looked at the boy's face.

His jawline, the curve of his brow, and the shape of his dark eyes were an exact replica of Destin's.

This was Jaxon.

A second later, Kyleigh slipped through the doorway, wearing a modest, high-necked ivory dress that made her look fragile and innocent.

Her eyes were rimmed with red, her hands clasped tightly against her stomach.

"Kendall," Kyleigh whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Jaxon has suffered so much. He just wants a real family. Please don't be angry with Destin."

I watched them put on their coordinated performance, the sheer audacity of it turning my stomach into knots.

Destin’s jaw ticked. His fingers drummed once against the leather folder before he forced his face back into that polished, condescending smile.

Destin pulled a leather-bound folder and a heavy gold fountain pen from his inner jacket pocket, holding them out toward me.

"See?" Destin said, his tone shifting into that familiar, condescending command he always used when trying to manipulate me. "Even Kyleigh understands the importance of charity. As the heir to the Rutledge legacy, you can't be so narrow-minded. Sign it. The press corps is waiting outside."

I didn't take the pen.

I looked down at the document resting on the marble table.

"This isn't just an adoption intent form," I said, pointing at paragraph four. "Clause B specifies an immediate, unconditional allocation of five million dollars annually from the Rutledge Family Trust to the minor child's designated guardian fund."

Destin's pupils contracted.

A bead of sweat formed at his hairline, but he forced a confident sneer. "That's standard legal language for high-net-worth adoptions! Stop creating problems out of nothing!"

Kyleigh stepped forward, dropping to her knees on the rug with practiced tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Kendall, I'm begging you... if you have any heart at all, do this for Destin's future..."

I stepped to the side, letting her outstretched hands grasp empty air.

My phone buzzed in my clutch.

I slid it out and opened the encrypted message from my private investigator.

It was a clean, high-resolution scan of Jaxon's official birth certificate from Massachusetts General Hospital.

Under the mother's name, it read: Kyleigh Hubbard.

Under the father's name: Destin Fowler.

The air in the suite seemed to thin. Even the distant clink of glasses beyond the doors faded.

I locked my phone, lifted my chin, and met Destin's eyes with absolute disdain.

"I have no interest in funding your mistress's bastard child," I said.

With one smooth motion of my hand, I swept the leather adoption folder off the table.

It crashed onto the floor, the papers scattering across Kyleigh's knees.

Destin froze, his skin turning the color of wet chalk.

"What... what did you say?" he stammered, his glass shaking in his hand.

I didn't waste another second looking at them.

I turned and walked toward the exit, my hand resting on the brass latch.

"Kendall!" Destin roared behind me, his voice cracking with panicked rage. "If you walk out that door tonight, we are completely finished!"

I paused, looked back over my shoulder, and gave him a slow, merciless smile.

"That's the best news I've heard in three years."