The car door opens, and I step onto the sidewalk armored in silk and steel.
Valentino suit. Diamond studs. Posture that commands deference before I've spoken a single word. Even the driver straightens when he opens my door, his movements stiffening into something almost formal.
Good. Let him see the woman I've become.
The Midtown conference room gleams with polished surfaces and neutral tones—the kind of space designed to strip emotion from negotiation. I walk through the glass doors prepared for war.
Walter rises from his chair, arms opening with warmth that feels rehearsed. Almost brotherly.
"Adison." He kisses my cheek before I can deflect. "You look remarkably well. Much better than at the ranch."
"Let's skip the pleasantries." I pull back, settling into the chair across from him with deliberate composure. "Whatever brought me back to New York—let's discuss it. Now."
His smile doesn't waver. If anything, it deepens.
"Direct as always." Walter adjusts his cuffs with practiced precision. "I appreciate that about you."
"Walter." My voice comes out sharp. "I didn't fly across the country for compliments."
"No." Something shifts behind his eyes. Anticipation. Satisfaction. "You didn't."
He reaches for a folder I hadn't noticed—manila, innocuous, waiting on the polished table like a loaded weapon. He slides it across the surface toward me with one finger.
"Open it."
My hands move before my mind catches up. The folder falls open.
A DNA test. Walter's name printed in clinical black letters beside another name.
Richard Ward.
A match.
The room tilts sideways. I grip the edge of the table, trying to anchor myself to something solid while the words rearrange themselves into meaning I can't accept.
"How?" The question scrapes out raw. Desperate. "How is this possible?"
Walter's smile sharpens into something genuine for the first time. Something hungry.
"You should ask Victoria for those details." He leans back in his chair, watching me with clinical attention. "The how doesn't really matter anymore. What matters is the result."
"This doesn't make sense." I stare at the test results, willing them to change. "My father never mentioned—he would have told me if he had a son."
"Would he?" Walter tilts his head. "Or would he have kept that secret to protect his precious legitimate heir?"
"You're lying." The accusation comes out weaker than I intend. "This is fabricated. Some kind of manipulation."
"Run your own test." He gestures at the papers with casual confidence. "The results won't change."
I force myself to breathe. To think. To find solid ground beneath the earthquake tearing through everything I understood about my father's legacy.
"What do you want?" My voice steadies. Hardens. "Why show me this now?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Walter folds his hands on the table, every movement calculated. "I'm Richard's son. His firstborn, actually. And I want what's rightfully mine."
"Which is?"
"Ward Enterprises." The words land like stones. "The company that should have been my inheritance. The legacy your father built—with my mother's help, I might add—while pretending I didn't exist."
The pieces click together with sickening clarity. Victoria's presence on the board. Her constant involvement in company decisions. The way my father trusted her above almost everyone else.
"You can't just claim—"
"I can claim whatever I want." Walter's voice drops lower. Harder. "You have two choices, Adison. Help me take what's rightfully mine. Willingly. Cooperatively. Or..."
He pauses, letting the silence stretch.
"Or what?"
"Or I destroy your reputation before you can blink." His smile turns cruel. "Your pregnancy. Your inappropriate relationship with the much-older cowboy your father trusted." He shakes his head with mock sympathy. "The tabloids will have a field day. Society will shred you. And Ward Enterprises will fall right into my hands anyway—just with more collateral damage."
The nausea hits without warning.
It crashes over me like a wave—violent, unstoppable, my body betraying me at the worst possible moment. I push back from the table, hand pressed against my mouth.
"Excuse me." I barely get the words out.
"Of course." Walter's voice follows me toward the door, smooth and pointed. "Your condition does make these conversations difficult, doesn't it?"
I don't answer. Can't answer. I'm already moving, already searching for the bathroom, already losing the battle with my own biology.
The tile is cold beneath my knees.
I lean over the toilet as my stomach empties itself, trembling hands gripping porcelain while the world spins. Every heave feels like surrender. Like weakness I can't afford.
When it finally stops, I slump against the wall. Pull out my phone with fingers that won't stay steady.
You already know the truth, don't you?
I send it to Violet and watch the message deliver. Then I dial Zachary.
He answers on the second ring. "Adison? How did it—"
"Walter has a DNA test." The words tumble out faster than I can control them. "He's Richard's son. My father's son."
Silence. Then: "That's impossible."
"I saw the results myself." I close my eyes against the fluorescent lights. "Victoria is his mother. There was apparently some... something between them. Years ago."
"I—" Zachary's voice catches, genuinely shaken in ways I've never heard. "I'm almost certain Richard didn't know. He couldn't have known and kept that secret."
"Are you sure?" The question comes out bitter. "Because if he knew he had a son, he would have chosen him. For everything. For CEO. For the company."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" I laugh, but the sound carries no humor. "A son versus a daughter? In my father's world? We both know how that calculation works."
"Adison, your father chose you. Deliberately. Whatever happened with Victoria—"
"I have to go." I cut him off, pushing myself upright on unsteady legs. "Walter's waiting. I need to get back in there."
"Wait—we should discuss strategy before you—"
"Later." I end the call.
The mirror reflects someone I barely recognize. Pale. Shaken. The armor I wore into this building cracked and compromised.
I splash water on my face. Straighten my spine. Force the mask back into place.
Walter is waiting. And I refuse to let him see me break.