Chapter 2

Rhea Summerlin POV:

The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the quiet room while orchestra music and clinking glasses echoed faintly through the phone's speaker.

Ciaran held the phone steady, the rough callus on his right index finger pressing tight against the edge of the casing as his eyes stayed cold.

"It's Ciaran Whitlock."

His flat, calm statement made the other end of the line go completely silent. A second later, Landon's voice rose with anger and guard.

"Whitlock? How did you get this number? Where are you?"

"NewYork-Presbyterian, maternity ward," Ciaran said, his gaze resting on my pale face. "Your wife just delivered twins by herself, and your biggest rival just held your newborn daughter for you."

Through the speaker came the sharp crash of a champagne flute shattering on the floor, followed by Amelia Hayes calling out softly in the background.

"Landon, honey, what's wrong?"

Landon's heavy, ragged breathing came through the line as he ground his teeth.

"Stay away from my family, Whitlock! Don't think you can stick your nose into my private life!"

"If you don't want tomorrow's league headlines to be about New York's captain abandoning his wife and newborns, you'd better be here in ten minutes."

Ciaran ended the call without waiting for an answer.

I closed my eyes, my eyelids burning hot, though not a single tear fell. Three years of hiding our marriage and swallowing my pride to protect Landon's career turned to dust in my chest.

Three days ago, Landon had thrown a drafted divorce agreement onto our dining table, demanding I step aside so he and Amelia could sign a joint commercial deal.

He had looked down at me then and told me I was just an ordinary woman from the Hayes family who would be nothing without the Sterling name.

Ciaran slipped his phone away, walked to the water dispenser, and handed me a warm paper cup.

"You don't need to feel embarrassed for his mistakes."

I took the cup, my cold fingertips brushing against his warm palm, and his calm presence steadied the tight knot in my stomach.

"I'm wide awake now, Mr. Whitlock," I said, pushing my black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of my nose. "I've already decided to end this marriage."

A flash of respect crossed Ciaran's steel-blue eyes before he took a polite step back.

"Good luck to you, Mrs. Sterling."

The door opened again, and Ciaran's older sister, Maeve Whitlock, walked in cradling her own newborn baby, with little Asher following quietly behind her.

Seeing my pale face, Maeve stepped quickly to the bassinet and tucked a soft cashmere baby blanket embroidered with the Boston Monarchs crest over Lily.

"Ignore those awful men, sweetheart," Maeve said, squeezing my cold hand. "If you need anything at all, just have Ciaran handle it."

I thanked her softly, and after Ciaran gave me a brief nod, he led his sister and son out into the hallway.

Left alone with my sleeping babies, I reached into my bag on the nightstand, pulled out the divorce papers Landon had given me, and gripped a pen without hesitation.

Ten minutes later, the door swung open and my attending obstetrician, Dr. Quentin Summerlin, walked in briskly with a serious expression.

He held a sealed urgent lab folder in his hand, his eyes shining behind his gold-rimmed glasses as he clicked the door lock shut behind him.

"Ms. Rhea, forgive me for disturbing you so late," Dr. Quentin said, his voice shaking slightly.

I slipped the divorce papers under my pillow, my chest tightening.

"Doctor, is something wrong with the babies' test results?"

Dr. Quentin pulled the chair up to my bedside and slid the folder, stamped with the seal of a top global genetics lab, across my blanket.

"During tonight's routine cord blood banking for the twins, the system triggered an automatic match with North America's highest-level direct family DNA database."

Frowning in confusion, I opened the first page and stared at the genetic markers linking me directly to the doctor sitting before me.

"Your real name is Rhea Summerlin," Dr. Quentin said, his eyes reddening as he pointed to the 99.99% kinship match at the bottom. "The baby girl we lost in Boston twenty-three years ago... You are my older brother Edward's flesh and blood, the daughter the Summerlin family has searched for over two decades."

My mind went completely blank, my heart pounding against my ribs as I stared at the name of the billionaire family that owned the world's largest sports technology empire.

All the years of being treated like an unpaid maid by the Hayes family and looked down on by Landon suddenly felt like a sick joke.

Dr. Quentin reached out with a trembling hand and patted my wrist.

"You've suffered enough, child. From tonight on, no one will ever look down on you again."

Out in the corridor, heavy, angry footsteps echoed rapidly as Landon's arrogant voice barked at the nurses' station.

"Which room is my wife in? Where the hell is Ciaran Whitlock?"

Hearing the commotion, Dr. Quentin's expression turned sharp and cold as he closed the DNA folder and stood up straight in front of my bed, just as the handle twisted and Landon shoved the door wide open.