Replacing His Angel And Bearing His Child

The scion of the powerful Donovan dynasty crashed his car, and with the resulting amnesia, he erased all memory of the gentle woman who had been his anchor during his darkest days. The family elders, seizing the power vacuum, played matchmaker and pushed me—the perfectly respectable, “suitable” society princess—into the role of his emergency fiancée. I was well aware that when Gabe Donovan was scraping the bottom, treated like the family’s unacknowledged bastard, I was part of the gallery of rich, cruel kids who watched him squirm. Only the housekeeper’s daughter had seen him as a treasure. Now, two years later, his savior is back. And Gabe’s memory is on the verge of returning. Everyone is waiting for the spectacle, anticipating the moment I’ll be cast out like garbage, expecting him to settle the score. But there’s an awkward hitch: right at this critical moment, I found out I’m pregnant.

1 When the news broke that Gabe Donovan had been rushed to the hospital after a blinding headache at the company, my heart seized up. I rushed to the VIP wing, but just as I was about to push open the door to his room, Logan Keller, his sharp-eyed special assistant, blocked me. His expression was troubled. He leaned in and delivered the quiet blow: “Clem, I think the boss is about to get his memory back.” My hand twitched. Before I could even process the weight of the disaster, I heard voices from inside. It wasn’t just Gabe. There was a man and a woman. The man was Brooks Donovan, Gabe’s hostile stepbrother. The woman was dressed modestly, radiating an almost fragile innocence—the legendary Sierra West, the ghost of his first love. Her voice was trembling: “I’m Sierra West. I’m back, Gabe. Do you remember who I am?” I pushed the door open, bracing myself for a tearful, cinematic reunion. Instead, Gabe wasn’t in the bed. Even in a hospital gown, the man radiated an effortless aura of cold, old-money arrogance. He was sprawled on the small sofa, his long legs casually crossed, absently toying with a Zippo lighter. Apart from a slight pallor, he looked nothing like a patient. Faced with Sierra’s desperate plea, he didn’t even lift his gaze. He simply spoke to Brooks, his voice a block of ice: “Next time, don’t bring every random woman who claims to be my ‘true love’ into my private room.” Then, he waved a dismissive hand, signaling Logan to send them out. Brooks was furious. He dragged Sierra out, spitting venom at Gabe: “You’ll regret this, Donovan. You’ll regret it forever!” Once the unnecessary drama had cleared, the room was silent. Just him and me. As the current—and supposedly perfect—fiancée, I had to play the part of the dutiful partner. “Does your head still hurt?” Gabe paused his rotation of the lighter. “I’m fine,” he said flatly. “Logan mentioned… you might be remembering things?” I asked tentatively. He rubbed his temples, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. “A few fragments, flashes. They won’t connect. I can’t grasp them.” He put his legs down, pulled me sharply onto his lap, and wrapped his arms around me. We’d been engaged for nearly eighteen months. We were adults, and what needed to happen had long ago happened. He cupped my chin, his tone casually cruel. “Brooks has lost his mind. He’ll trot out any girl he finds to claim she’s my great love.” He leaned in, his lips brushing my earlobe, his breath hot. “Compared to that sort of timid, plain-Jane type, I much prefer a woman who knows how to be compliant. You, Clem, are much more to my taste.” It sounded like a dark kind of flirtation, but I knew the truth: he still hadn’t remembered. If he realized the woman he had just scornfully dismissed was the one he’d once cherished above all others, he might very well throttle me on the spot. That night, Gabe insisted on checking out and going home. Later, in the quiet darkness, he held me from behind, his hands hot on my skin. “Can you?” he asked, his voice rough with desire. I hesitated, then gave a tiny nod. “Just… be gentle.” In this, at least, Gabe was an impeccable lover, perhaps even the perfect potential husband. If I cried out in pain, he would immediately stop and soothe me. Grandma Donovan had been blunt when she chose me: “Clem, be agreeable and compliant, and no man can resist you.” Her plan was simple: get me cemented in place before Gabe’s memory returned, thereby permanently displacing the housekeeper’s daughter. And it seemed to be working. Gabe clearly enjoyed my presence. But the truth was, his preference was shallow. It was based only on my physical presence and our compatibility in the bedroom. What Grandma Donovan didn’t know was that when Gabe was the most abused pariah in the Donovan household, I had absolutely been one of the privileged, rotten kids who laughed at his humiliation. When his memory returns, survival, let alone displacing his savior, will be a miracle. 2 Gabe Donovan is now the undisputed Prince of this city’s elite. But years ago, he lived worse than a dog in the Donovan estate. His mother died young, and his father ignored him. Everyone bowed to Brooks, the son of the stepmother. Brooks and I were high school classmates. Everyone in our circle orbited Brooks, and naturally, we all followed suit, kicking Gabe when he was down. Brooks was especially malicious. The worst incident was at his eighteenth birthday party. He had his lackeys drag Gabe out and pin him down, insisting Gabe shine my shoes. Brooks was chasing me then, and he thought this display of humiliation would win me over. I was startled. I instinctively stepped back and said coldly, “Don’t touch me.” Goddess knows, I was repulsed by Brooks and the whole sickening display, and I didn’t want to get involved. But the crowd of spectators roared with laughter, pointing at Gabe. “Hear that, Clementine? She thinks you’re filthy!” Gabe then was rail-thin, pressed onto the ground and utterly humiliated, yet his back remained rigidly straight. His head was bowed; no one saw the deep-seated hatred in his eyes. I later found out he kept a mental ledger of every single person who had laughed that day. It was during those dark, endless days that Sierra West was his lifeline. Sierra was the daughter of the Donovan housekeeper, humble in status, but completely devoted to him. In a place as vicious as the Donovan family, Gabe’s eventual rise was entirely thanks to Sierra, who was his spy, his shield, and who almost lost her life protecting him. When Gabe finally took over, his methods were ruthless. Every rich kid who had scorned him paid a steep price. Brooks’s downfall was the most spectacular. With only myself and a few others yet to face his reckoning, Sierra was forcibly shipped overseas by Grandma Donovan because her low status wasn’t acceptable. Gabe drove out into a blizzard to chase her. He crashed his car. The accident destroyed his memory and wiped Sierra clean from his mind. The Donovans sealed off the incident. No one dared utter her name around him. For the amnesiac Gabe, marrying me—the ‘perfect’ daughter of a family with matching wealth—was the ideal corporate merger. But my conscience was a constantly throbbing wound. I am technically only the stepdaughter of the Marsh family. The Marshes’ biological daughter was lost as a child and never found. If not for that tragedy, this colossal fortune—and this engagement—would never have fallen into my lap. That night, I slept fitfully, dreaming of Gabe’s recovered memory, his hands around my throat. I woke up in a cold sweat. Gabe sensed it. He reached out, touching my forehead, then glanced at my stomach, his brow furrowed. “Clem, is it… your time of the month?” I looked down. There was a small, unmistakable red stain on the sheet. My cycle was usually erratic, but this was a surprisingly light flow, accompanied by a dull ache in my abdomen. My guilt made me bury my face in the pillow. “I’m sorry. I messed up the sheets.” Gabe didn’t say a word. He went to the closet for a towel, then carried me to the bathroom to clean me up. Look how good he is to me. But this kindness was a sandcastle, waiting for a single wave to wash it all away. Midday during the week, Grandma Donovan assigned me a task: deliver a homemade lunch to Gabe at his office. I arrived just as his meeting was wrapping up. Gabe, in a perfectly tailored suit, took the lunchbox from my hands and immediately passed it to Logan. In the small crowd of executives, my eyes instantly landed on a familiar face. Sierra West. The project director for the collaborating company chuckled as he introduced her: “Mr. Donovan, this is Ms. Lin. She just returned from overseas and will be handling the daily interface on this project.” A vice president, clearly unaware of the tension, smiled and teased: “Mr. Donovan, I hear wedding bells are coming soon?” Gabe gave a faint smile. He reached out, circled my waist, and pulled me close. The public declaration felt like a lead weight in my gut. “Yes, it’s time to settle down. The wedding is set for three months from now. We look forward to seeing you all.” I distinctly saw Sierra’s face drain of all color. After lunch, Gabe dismissed everyone, keeping me in his massive corner office. I decided to address the subject weighing on my mind. “Grandma wants me to quit teaching piano and focus on wedding planning.” I taught at an international prep school—a light, fulfilling job. But Grandma Donovan was intensely controlling, and her demands were non-negotiable. Gabe saw right through me. “If you don’t want to quit, then don’t. I’ll handle my grandmother.” A man like Gabe never offered anything for free. Immediately, he pressed me against his huge mahogany desk, demanding his payment. We were kissing fiercely when the door was abruptly knocked. Logan walked in, carrying a file. My face was a ripe tomato, but Gabe was unperturbed. He simply pulled me tighter into his embrace, shielding my disheveled collar. Logan kept his eyes respectfully averted, his tone strictly professional. “Sir, the file you requested on Sierra West.” My heart plummeted. He was investigating Sierra? He had acted completely dismissive at the hospital. Had his subconscious taken over? Did he suspect something? Once Logan left, Gabe smiled at my obvious tension. “Clem, why do you think I asked for her file?” I shook my head, my palms slick with sweat. Gabe said casually, “Your stepbrother specifically reached out, asking me to give this Sierra a professional leg-up. He called it ‘mentoring.’ And then, the other shoe dropped.” He dropped the real bomb. “The long-lost Marsh daughter has been found.” My mind exploded. “Is it Sierra?” Gabe nodded, his tone possessive and utterly logical. “You and I are a united front now. I have to protect you. I needed to know her background. If she turns out to be difficult, I’ll be prepared to shield my fiancée.” In that moment, I felt an excruciating mix of guilt and pity. I had entered the Marsh family when my mother remarried. I never intended to steal anything. But fate was a terrible writer of fiction. I glanced at the file on the desk. It glossed over Sierra’s adoption by the housekeeper and completely omitted her history with Gabe. Gabe believed he was protecting me from a simple rich-girl vs. imposter drama. He had no idea that when Sierra West reclaimed her identity as the Marsh heiress, the first thing she would come for was the engagement that was supposed to be hers. 3 I returned to the school that afternoon and called my mother to confirm. My mother, Vivian, sighed. “Your stepfather plans to announce it at the family dinner next week. Clem, I wasn’t intentionally hiding this… By the way, are you feeling alright lately?” I was about to say yes when a sudden, sharp pang hit my lower abdomen. It was a strange, pulling ache, nothing like my usual cramps. Combined with the intermittent spotting over the last few days, a terrible premonition took hold. I took the rest of the day off and went to a clinic. The doctor peered over her glasses at the results. “Congratulations. You’re approximately four weeks pregnant.” “However, you’re experiencing early-term spotting. You need to be on strict bedrest, and absolutely no intercourse.” I clutched the printout, my hands shaking. This child could not have picked a worse time. Gabe and I were always careful. The only variable was the herbal medicine I’d been taking recently for general wellness, which included some auxiliary pills. At the Marsh family dinner, I pulled my mother aside for an anxious confrontation. She finally confessed. “The Marshes set up this engagement for their birth daughter. Now, your stepfather wants to make amends, to switch the fiancé back before the wedding. I didn’t want you to have sacrificed for nothing, so…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “About a month ago, I had your birth control swapped with placebos.” I felt a cold dread wash over me. This was my own mother, willing to manipulate me into pregnancy to secure my spot as Mrs. Donovan. Not long after, Gabe arrived. He walked over, naturally taking my hand. He frowned. “Why are your hands so cold?” He turned and asked a servant to fetch me a shawl. My little stepbrother, a chubby terror, ran over and hugged Gabe’s leg. “Gabe!” Gabe managed a rare, gentle smile, patting the boy’s cheek. “I heard you failed your last exam? Next time you make the top ten, your sister’s fiancé will buy you anything you want.” The boy, who was uncontrollable otherwise, was putty in Gabe’s hands. My mother seized the opportunity, smiling broadly. “Gabe, you’ll be such a wonderful father. You two should hurry up. Clem, why the flats tonight? Are you pregnant?” The warmth instantly drained from Gabe’s face. His voice was flat. “No. She was on her cycle last week.” Once we were alone, I couldn’t help but ask him. “Marriage and children are inevitable, aren’t they? Do you just… dislike the idea of having kids?” Gabe was arranging the shawl around my shoulders. His movement froze. He looked detached. “No rush. I’m not thinking about it for a few more years. We’re young. I’m not ready to be a father yet.” Looking at his cold indifference, a bitter ache spread through me. Of course. In a dynastic family as cold as the Donovans, where ties of blood meant so little, he probably had zero expectation for a family of his own. Just then, the clatter of heels echoed down the stairs. The Sierra West of today—or rather, Sierra Marsh—was a different woman entirely. She wore an exquisite designer gown and flawless makeup. She was unrecognizable from the fragile figure in the hospital room. She glided down the stairs, her eyes fixed directly on Gabe. “Gabe…” she called softly. Gabe glanced up. There was no flicker of recognition or warmth in his eyes. He held my shoulder tighter, his voice utterly professional and distant. “Clem is only two months older than you, Sierra, but by family standards, you should probably call me your brother-in-law.” That single, casual designation was a brutal slap across Sierra’s face. The dinner was a grand announcement of the true heiress’s return. But my mother’s maneuvering was masterful. She ensured Gabe and I stayed the night in my old bedroom. Gabe emerged from the shower, smelling of clean, expensive soap. He came toward me, kissing me, his hands immediately exploring beneath my clothes. I flinched, quickly pressing his hand down. “Not tonight. I’m still not feeling well.” Gabe’s throat worked. He saw my slightly pale face and relented. He buried his face in my neck, his voice muffled. “You’ve been off for a while. I’m going for my follow-up check tomorrow. Come with me?” I went rigid. Gabe had been in intensive treatment for his amnesia, recently with a top European specialist. Logan had hinted the treatment was starting to show significant progress. His memory could fully return any day now. If he remembered, this child in my belly was a ticking time bomb. I quickly made an excuse about a morning class and refused to go to the hospital. The next morning, however, Sierra Marsh came directly to my school. In a discreet café, she elegantly stirred her espresso. “Clementine, I’m not here to fight over a man.” She smiled thinly. “I know your secret. Besides the history of humiliating Gabe, you’ve kept an even bigger time bomb from him.” She leaned forward, dropping her voice. “Logan Keller, the assistant Gabe trusts the most. He’s your grandfather’s sponsored student, isn’t he?” I gripped my coffee cup hard. Sierra’s smile widened, radiating victory. “With him running interference, no wonder Gabe couldn’t dig up my history. You seem so obedient, Clem, but you have a wild streak. To avoid this engagement, you tried to run away with Logan, right?” “When you were dragged back, you agreed to marry Gabe to keep the Marshes from retaliating against Logan.” “I can keep your secret. Just cooperate with me. Let’s put everything back where it belongs.” “The four of us can simply switch partners.” Just as the cascade of information left me reeling, the cell phone on the table buzzed. A long-unseen name flashed on the screen: Logan. The man I supposedly ran away with, who was now Gabe’s trusted confidant. I answered. Logan’s usually steady voice was laced with frantic urgency. “Clem, something’s wrong.” “Gabe collapsed in the treatment room. When he woke up… he remembers everything.” I hung up, feeling like a shot of liquid nitrogen had hit my spine. Sierra looked at my ashen face, the corner of her mouth curling into a triumphant smile. She took a dainty sip of coffee. “Well. It seems I didn’t have to lift a finger. Fate is on my side.” I ignored her spite. I grabbed my purse and bolted for the door. I wanted to run. Honestly, what other choice did I have? Stay and let Gabe take his revenge? I had coldly observed his humiliation. I had taken the place of his savior for two years. I had slept with him for two years. And now, I was potentially pregnant with the child of the man he trusted most—or so he would think. With this stack of debts, death was a certainty. I raced back to the penthouse to grab my essentials: passport, cash, jewelry. I crammed everything into a suitcase. Just as I dragged the luggage to the front door, the lock clicked. BEEP. Standing outside was Gabe Donovan, who was supposedly “recovering his memory” at the hospital. Behind him, Logan stood with a face devoid of emotion. Our eyes met. The air thickened into concrete. Gabe wasn’t wearing a hospital gown. He had changed into a sharp black dress shirt, the collar slightly open, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the taut lines of his forearm. But his face was like a chunk of ice carved from a glacier. His eyes no longer held the recent possessiveness or the former indifference. They were filled with an intense, invasive, and deeply sullen scrutiny. This was the terrifying, calculating look of the resurrected Gabe. “Where are you going?” He spoke, his voice hoarse, impossible to read. My palms were sweating cold. I forced a look of strained composure. “S-school field trip. I’m going on a sketching retreat.” “Sketching?” Gabe took long strides into the room, closing the distance. The sheer power and dominance in his posture made me instinctively back away until my knees hit the sofa edge and I collapsed onto the cushion. He bent over me, bracing his hands on the sofa back, caging me in the small space. His deep eyes burned into mine. A cruel smirk touched his lips. “Clementine Marsh, did you think the accident turned my brain to mush? That I was stupid?” His long fingers hooked under my chin, his grip painful. “You’re taking my money and planning to run off with who, exactly? Hmm?” “Logan?” My heart squeezed. I looked instinctively toward Logan, who stood by the door, head down, refusing to meet my eyes. I was sold out. That traitor, Logan, must have told him everything to save himself! “No… Gabe, let me explain…” I reached for his sleeve, trembling. “Explain what?” Gabe violently shook off my hand as if I were something vile. He straightened up, looking down on me, his eyes churning with a storm I couldn’t decipher. “Explain how you thought I was disgusting back then? Explain how you were forced to ‘sacrifice’ yourself to me because of Logan? Or explain…” His gaze slowly drifted downward, settling on my abdomen. The look was a physical probe, a surgical knife slicing into me to discover the truth. “Explain who the father of the bastard child inside you really is?” My head exploded in a deafening WHOOSH. He knew? Yes, if Logan betrayed me, he must have mentioned the pregnancy. But I never expected him to jump to the conclusion that it was Logan’s. I opened my mouth, ready to blurt out, It’s yours. But the words caught in my throat. Tell him it’s his? And risk him demanding I keep the child as an heir, only to be discarded myself? Or worse, have him think I was using the baby as leverage, compounding his hatred? If he believed it wasn’t his, I could disappear with the child, and we’d both be safe from the machinations of the Donovan world. My silence intensified the rage in his eyes. He gave a cold laugh, turned to the liquor cabinet, poured a tumbler of whiskey, and tossed it back. “Good. This is perfect.” “Clementine, you have nerve.” “Logan,” he called out without turning around. Logan stepped forward instantly. “Sir.” “Seal this house. No one in, no one out. Not even a fly.” Gabe turned back to me, his voice a razor’s edge. “You want to run, Clem? You’ll never get the chance. The debt you owe me from the past, we’ll settle it, account by account.” I was officially under house arrest. My phone was confiscated, the internet cable cut. Two grim-faced bodyguards stood watch 24/7. Apart from the nanny delivering meals, I had no one to speak to. Gabe didn’t return. But I knew what he was doing. The news channels were filled with the Donovan Group’s lightning-fast movements. He was ruthlessly purging the company’s senior management. Several old-guard directors were ejected, and the Marsh family’s joint projects were abruptly suspended. The Marshes were in utter chaos. My mother tried to visit but was turned away. Sierra Marsh, however, managed to get through. I don’t know what she did, but the guards let her in. A few days without seeing her, and she was even more radiant, clutching a limited-edition Hermès bag, strutting like a proud peacock. “Tsk, tsk, sister. Why are you letting yourself go like this?” Sierra sat opposite me, looking down her nose at my wrinkled house clothes. I met her eyes coldly. “Spit it out.” Sierra wasn’t offended. She merely smiled and tossed a document onto the coffee table. “Gabe asked me to deliver this. Sign it.” I looked down. The Dissolution of Engagement Agreement. Though we hadn’t married yet, the engagement party had been elaborate. This document covered the termination of the contract and the division of assets. It was crystal clear: I was leaving with nothing. “Gabe said that out of respect for your two years together, he won’t pursue fraud charges. Just sign it and disappear from the city. He’ll even go easy on the Marshes.” Sierra played with her freshly manicured nails. “Don’t feel wronged. This was never your spot. If I hadn’t gone abroad, you’d never have had it.” I opened the document, flipping straight to the last page. Gabe’s signature was missing. I closed the file and threw it back at her. “Tell him to come speak to me himself.” Sierra’s expression darkened. “Clementine, don’t be unreasonable! Gabe can barely stand the sight of you. Do you honestly think he’ll meet with you?” “Then he can just keep feeling sick.” I touched my flat stomach and suddenly smiled. “I have nothing left to lose. Tell Gabe this: if he wants me to clear out, fine.” “He has to come here, look me in the eye, and explain the last two years. Otherwise, I will die in this house. Two bodies. Let’s see if the Donovan name can withstand that scandal.” Sierra flinched, startled by the manic edge in my voice. She clearly hadn’t expected the quiet, compliant fiancée to be capable of such an outburst. “Lunatic! You are a complete lunatic!” Sierra stormed out, spewing insults. I didn’t actually expect to leverage a threat against Gabe. I was gambling. Gambling that he still held a shred of regard for me—even if it was hatred interwoven with obsession. Or, perhaps, gambling on his possessive need to control the disposal of the “bastard child.” Gabe returned that evening. He brought the chill of the night and a strong smell of whiskey. I was curled up on the sofa watching a trashy reality show when he entered. He didn’t turn on the lights. His tall frame loomed over me, suffocating. “You wanted to see me?” He tore off his tie, letting it drop to the floor. His voice was deep and husky. I kept my eyes on the screen. “Sierra brought a document. Since your signature wasn’t on it, I didn’t dare sign.” “Huh.” A cold, mocking laugh. The next second, he hauled me off the sofa and threw me back hard against the soft cushions. He lunged onto me, pinning my shoulders down, his eyes bloodshot, feral. “Clementine, do you think I won’t touch you?” “Two lives? You think you can blackmail me with that bastard?” His hand slid down my torso, coming to rest on my lower abdomen. His palm was scorching hot, yet I felt a deeper chill. “Since you’re so attached to this bastard, how about I help you get rid of it?” My eyes widened in terror. I thrashed wildly. “Gabe, you’re crazy! This is—” “What is it?” He clamped down on my jaw, forcing me to meet his furious gaze. “Logan’s? Or some random man’s?” “Clementine. You’re filthy.” The words were three sharp nails hammering into my heart. Tears sprang to my eyes. I stopped fighting, biting my lip hard to stifle a cry. Seeing my defeated stillness, the violence in Gabe’s eyes seemed to recede, replaced by a deeper disgust—and a subtle, almost invisible trace of pain. He released me, stood up, and straightened his clothes, instantly resuming his aloof, dominant posture. “Tomorrow morning, a doctor will be here to perform the procedure.” “After it’s done, take the money and leave this city.” “Don’t let me see you again.” He slammed the door behind him. 4 I stayed awake all night. I touched my belly, still flat, and made a decision. If he wants to play dirty, so will I. The next morning, the doctor arrived as promised. She was a severe-looking, middle-aged woman, accompanied by two nurses and professional equipment. Logan was there too, standing by the door like a silent sentinel. “Ms. Marsh, please cooperate. It’s a simple procedure, it will be over quickly,” the doctor said coolly, pulling on her gloves. I sat on the bed, my hand tightly clutching a small fruit knife I had hidden under my pillow. “Stay back!” I pressed the blade against my neck. The sharp edge broke the skin, and a bead of blood instantly welled up. “Get Gabe here! Or I swear, I will kill myself right now!” The doctor and nurses gasped, frozen in place. Logan rushed in, his face going pale when he saw the knife. “Clem, don’t do this!” “Call Gabe!” I screamed. “I have something to tell him! About what happened back then, about Sierra, and… about this child!” Logan hesitated, then quickly dialed Gabe’s number. Gabe’s impatient voice came through the receiver. “Is it done?” “Sir, Ms. Marsh is threatening suicide. She demands to see you…” Silence. A terrifying, dead silence. After what felt like an eternity, a cold laugh echoed from the phone. “Let her.” Click. Click. Click. The line went dead. The knife clattered to the floor in my numb hand. This was what true heartbreak felt like. To him, I was truly less than nothing. Logan looked at my devastation, sighed, and waved the medical team out of the room. We were alone. “Clem,” Logan suddenly used my first name, his tone complicated. “Gabe… he never actually intended for you to lose the baby.” I looked up at him blankly. Logan offered a wry, bitter smile. “That doctor is a top-tier fertility specialist. The medication they brought is the best treatment for early-term spotting. Gabe was furious yesterday, but he only believes the child is mine.” “He told you to leave because he wanted to protect you. Sierra… she is far more dangerous than she seems.” I stared, feeling like I was listening to an alien language. “What are you saying?” Logan took a deep breath, like he was finally lifting an unbearable weight. “Gabe already knew the truth about everything. He knew you pulled away during the shoe incident because Brooks had smeared itching powder on your shoe, and you were trying to push Brooks away, not insult Gabe.” “He also knew your time with me was because I promised to help you find information about your birth parents.” “As for Sierra… the person who actually saved him was the mute nanny, not Sierra. Sierra simply stole the token and took her place.” My eyes were wide as saucers. “Then why…?” “Because he was setting a trap.” Logan lowered his voice. “The old Donovan board members are still watching him. Sierra has powerful backers. If he didn’t act disgusted with you, they would target you. As for the child… he was genuinely jealous.” Logan threw his hands up in exasperation. “After all, you did try to run away with me once, and he’s never gotten over it. That’s his ego.” I stared at him. “…” The man’s possessiveness was staggering. Just then, a commotion erupted downstairs. Then, the sound of splintering wood and a woman’s shriek. Logan’s face changed instantly. He rushed to the window and looked down. “Damn it! Sierra brought people in!”