Claiming His Secret Heir

“You were drugged,” Victoria said softly. “There’s a reason they give benzodiazepines to patients to forget about surgery. It makes things fuzzy and confusing. Time bends. That’s not your fault, Caroline.”

Right. Her physician had said the same thing. But that didn’t make it any less scary or infuriating.

Before she could say as much, however, she heard a baby’s cry on the other end of the call. She sat up straight in bed, poised to help before reminding herself that she wasn’t in the same house as Lucas.

“Guess it’s time for the midnight bottle.” The crying quieted for a moment; Victoria must have turned down the volume on the baby monitor. “I’d better go.”

“Okay. Wish I was there.” Caroline wanted her baby with her. Always.

She hated that she had to deceive people—her father and her husband, too—just to find out who was telling her the truth.

“Soon. Be safe, Caro. And good luck.” Victoria disconnected, leaving Caroline feeling more alone than ever.

Tomorrow, she’d have to find a way to divert Damon from her doctor’s appointment. She would go in person to the police station if she didn’t hear from the officers first thing in the morning. Her future was riding on what they had to say. Because once she found out if Damon had been telling her truth, she would confront him with her own: that although she couldn’t remember if she’d left him or not, she knew without a doubt she’d been held against her will for some of the time.

Damon had been the man she’d missed then, the one person she’d yearned to see. No drugs could make her forget how much she’d loved him once. Too bad she was no closer to knowing if he’d felt the same about her. Worse, she feared that even if he had returned those feelings at one time, she might have destroyed that love forever by keeping their child a secret.

* * *

“I’ve got a simple solution for all your problems, brother,” Damon’s younger brother told him in their Skype call at dawn.

Well, dawn West Coast time. Where Gabe sat, on the back patio of the Birdsong Hotel near the McNeill family compound in Martinique, it was already late morning. Exotic birds chirped in the palms swaying behind him, the whole image like an eighties pop-art painting full of pinks and turquoise.

“My missing bride finally returns home and doesn’t remember me. Her investor father wants to kick me out of my own company. I found a glitch in the new software we’re about to launch. And our older brother is happy just to sell off everything and get out of Dodge so he can spend time with his new wife.” Damon sat in the breakfast nook off the kitchen, one of the few rooms in the gargantuan house that didn’t echo when he had a phone conversation. Also, he’d chosen this spot since it was close to the stairs from the master suite, and he needed to stick near Caroline. “Now, explain to me how you could possibly have a solution to all those problems.”

Gabe had surprised him with the call this morning after Damon texted him the night before, asking for his opinion on the potential sale of Transparent. Their older brother, Jager, wanted the sale to happen so they could start over and get out from under the pressure of investors who wanted to control the direction of the company.

Namely, Stephan Degraff.

Damon couldn’t let go yet. He was grateful to Jager for leading the company while Damon had searched for Caroline. But now he was ready to return his focus to the technology he’d developed. Technology he believed in. He wasn’t selling. And he wasn’t allowing Stephan Degraff to unseat him from the board, either.

“Go to New York,” Gabe informed him simply, spreading his arms wide as he rocked back in a purple-painted lounge chair, as if the answer was obvious. “Call on the new family relations and see if the McNeills will put their legendary money where the old man’s mouth is. Granddad says he wants us to be part of the family. Let him dust off the wallet and buy out Degraff to prove it.”

“Spoken like the baby of the family.” Damon leaned back against the leather banquette cushion and toasted Gabe with a mug of black coffee. “It doesn’t gall you even a little to go begging for a handout?”

“Who’s begging? Degraff would sell out his own kid to take over Transparent and the dude is worth a fortune. Clearly there is capital to be gained from your software idea.” Gabe shrugged, his sunglasses glinting with the reflected noontime glare. “Although, to be honest, I only invested because we’re related.”

“Generous to a fault, you are.” Damon shook his head, content to let Gabe ramble on about his assessment of “Granddad” following a recent phone call. But Damon’s thoughts lingered on something else his brother had said.

How much would Stephan Degraff “sell out” Caroline to obtain control of Transparent? What lengths would he go to?

A year ago, Damon had told himself that it didn’t matter what Stephan did because Damon’s love for Caroline surpassed everything else. But what if Stephan hadn’t just sent Caroline to Transparent for business reasons—to be Damon’s entrepreneur in residence? What if Caroline had come to get close to Damon personally, as well?

The idea was ridiculous. She was a beautiful, brilliant woman. She would have never married him solely because her father wanted to spy on Damon’s company. But the fact that she’d disappeared right after the honeymoon, coupled with the fact that she’d returned now, claiming to have no memory of the marriage, right at a sensitive time of transition for the business...

Across the kitchen, he saw the door of the master bedroom open silently. He closed his laptop with no warning to Gabe, not wanting Caroline to overhear the discussion. Damon watched her as she stepped onto the bamboo floor, her shoes in her hand, as if she wanted to make as little sound as possible. She was fully dressed in fresh clothes she must have found in the closet. A cranberry-colored purse was slung over the shoulder of a shawl sweater that swung around her knees. Her gaze was on the door.

Leaving?

“Good morning.”

He startled her so badly she dropped the shoes she’d been carrying, brown leather boots that clunked heavily to the floor. Damn it. How had he let his brother’s comment twist him around to think the worst of their relationship? He knew Caroline better than that. Didn’t he?

Shoving to his feet, he was across the room and at her side. Picking up her shoes and setting them neatly by the kitchen island, he reached to steady her arm.

“I’m sorry, Caroline.” He smoothed a touch along her shoulder, remembering the feel of her lips against his the day before. “I should have given you a warning.”

“No need.” She waved off the apology, her high ponytail brushing her shoulder when she moved away. “You live here. I’m the newcomer.” She tipped the cell phone in her hand to show him. “I’m on hold with the local police department. I’m trying to speak to the officers you mentioned yesterday.”

“I thought they were going to call you when they went on duty?” He had been with her when they’d left a message at the station the day before.

“Shift change is at seven a.m. I thought I’d try to reach them before they head out for the day.” Her attention shifted to the call and she tucked the phone against her cheek. “Yes, I’m here. I’m holding for Officer Downey.”

Damon watched her pace the kitchen, her outfit a swirl of rich colors reflected in stainless steel appliances. She must have been transferred to the officer she wanted because she gave her name and the details of why she was calling, checking notes that she pulled from her purse to read him approximate dates Damon had given her yesterday.

Having his story checked was a strange sensation. Long before he’d dreamed up the idea for Transparent, he’d been a successful businessman. In Martinique, where he and his brothers owned a marina and a historic plantation home available for private parties and corporate retreats, he had a reputation for being a fair employer and a generous contributor to local causes. In Silicon Valley, he was a man people listened to. He filled lecture halls when he spoke at prestigious universities about digital progress.

But the woman he’d given his heart to had to verify his story with the police. Was that normal for amnesia sufferers? He added it to the list of things to ask the specialist, who’d made time to see her today when he called in a favor from a friend.

For now, he distracted himself by making a fresh pot of coffee for Caroline while she quizzed the cop on the other end of the phone.

“Thank you so much,” she finally said, her brown eyes darting Damon’s way. “I appreciate knowing more about what my father said.” She seemed to hesitate as she listened to the officer. She shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “No,” she finally said. “Not yet. But I will contact you as soon as I’m ready to come in to give a statement.”