THE TYCOON DISCOVERED TWO SHIVERING TWINS AT HIS DECEASED WIFE’S MOUNTAIN CABIN—THEN A CRUST OF BREAD REVEALED THE LIES HIS FAMILY CONCEALED

The next 48 hours were a blur of encrypted phone calls, offshore wire transfers, and digital forensics. Marcus’s team hacked into the secure servers of the Cross Family Medical Institute—the private hospital where Elena had spent her final months.

I sat at the kitchen island, watching a team of hackers pull up Elena’s medical files.

“Boss, look at this,” a tech named Ryder said, pointing to the screen. “These blood work results from Elena’s leukemia diagnosis? They’re heavily redacted. But if you look at the raw metadata, they don't belong to Elena Cross. The file was copied from a deceased patient from 2018 and pasted into your wife’s chart.”

I gripped the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles turned white. “She never had cancer.”

“No,” Ryder confirmed. “But look at the pharmacy logs. They were pumping her full of heavy immunosuppressants and experimental chemo drugs. They weren't treating her, Sebastian. They were slowly poisoning her to mimic the symptoms of leukemia.”

I felt physically sick. My mother had controlled Elena’s care. She had insisted on keeping her at our private facility, claiming it was for her privacy. I had trusted her. I had sat by Elena’s bed, holding her hand while she withered away, unaware that the IV dripping into her veins was a death sentence orchestrated by my own blood.

“Why?” I whispered. “Why go through all this?”

“Money and control,” Marcus said grimly, leaning against the doorframe. “Elena’s prenuptial agreement. I remember the lawyers talking about it. If she had an heir, her shares in the company became untouchable. If you died, she and the children would inherit the entire empire, cutting your mother and Julian out completely.”

“They couldn't let her have the babies,” I realized. “But why not just kill her? Why keep the twins alive?”

“Leverage,” Marcus suggested. “Or maybe whoever was supposed to dispose of the kids couldn't go through with it.”

“I need to know who dropped them at the cabin,” I said.

Ryder’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “I checked the traffic cameras near the base of the mountain for the 24 hours before you arrived. There was only one vehicle that didn't belong to a local. A 2010 Honda Civic. Registered to a woman named Rosa Mendez.”