Jeremy's POV
I was still frozen, the officer's words echoing in my ears, when Rosemary's high, triumphant voice cut through the hum.
"Jeremy, think about it—who would bother to kidnap a nobody orphan? This is probably one of her stunts to get your attention. I would never forgive her for what she did to me—you better not either." Her tone was all malice and self-satisfaction.
Beside her, Adel sniffed with faux concern while Rosemary continued, breathless with gossip. "Besides, she's gone and it's Adel here with you. I heard Mother say Adel is related to the Shepherd–Anderson family in El Salvador. Can you imagine what that will do for the Gillian name? And your position as heir?" She trilled the last word like it was already hers.
The officer glanced between us, uncomfortable, but Rosemary kept going like she'd been handed the microphone. "Sorry, officers—Audrey Anderson and my brother are divorcing, so if she's missing it's nothing to do with us. You should go look for her family." She said it like an afterthought, then flicked her hair.
"I'm starving. When I meet Audrey I'll make her pay for getting me suspended—and for Dad cutting off my cards. You wait and see." She snatched up a mussel and shoved it at Adel. "Peel these for me, please, I don't want to ruin my nails."
Adel obliged, but the smile she wore was brittle. "Of course, Rosemary. I'll get you and Jeremy an invitation to the Shepherd-Anderson celebration." Her voice was honey, but her eyes were calculating. "You'll be the envy of your friends."
The whole exchange felt like a performance. Yet even as disgust flared hot in my gut, a colder thought slid in and planted itself there. If Adel truly had ties to the Shepherd–Andersons—and if a dinner invitation could open the right door—then maybe, just maybe, the contract I'd been chasing for years wouldn't be a distant dream anymore.
I caught myself watching Adel's forced smile and felt a shame I couldn't afford to admit. Opportunity pressed against the raw wound Audrey had left. For a brief, ugly second I considered the practical: leverage, reputation, the kind of deal that could cement my position.
I told myself the thought was business, nothing personal. Still, standing in that lobby while Rosemary preened and the officers looked on, I realized the line between what I wanted and what I needed had blurred—dangerously.
Audrey's POV
The wheels of the private jet touched down softly, but my heart was pounding so loud it drowned out the hum of the engines. The moment I stepped off, there she was—my mother. Stefania Shepherd Anderson, the busiest woman in the world, but never too busy for me. She was waiting personally, arms wide open, face glowing with relief and worry all at once.
The second I collapsed into her embrace, I crumbled. My tears wouldn't stop, and she held me tighter, rocking me like a child.
"I've got you, baby. I almost had a heart attack when I heard your voice. You don't look okay… what did they do to you?" she whispered, brushing her hand over my hair.
At forty-five, she still looked radiant, like she hadn't aged a day past twenty-five. And me? In my twenties, I looked like life had chewed me up and spit me out twice my age.
"Mum… I was told I have fibroids, and I can't have surgery. I didn't even understand half of what the doctor was saying." My voice cracked, trembling between fear and exhaustion.
Her arms tightened around me. "We'll take care of it, baby. Mama's got this."
That was the thing about my mother—she wasn't a doctor, she was a lawyer. But she also owned one of the best labs in the world, and when it came to me, she stopped at nothing. She didn't ask me questions I wasn't ready to answer. She just cradled me, carried my pain like it was her own.
At the lab, she had her doctors run every test possible. I sat there with my fingers crossed, praying, begging, bargaining with God for just one sentence: You're going to be okay. You can have the surgery.
But instead, I got the shock of my life.
I saw it first in my mother's face. The way she covered her mouth, fighting back her tears, trying to be strong for me.
"Mum… am I dying?" My voice broke, my tears streaming.
"No, baby." She squeezed my hand so hard it almost hurt, then turned to the doctors, waiting. Dreading.
Finally, one of them spoke. "You see, Miss Anderson… sometimes fibroids grow alongside pregnancy."
I blinked, confused. "Wait—what? What do you mean?"
"She means you're pregnant, baby," my mother said softly, her voice trembling. "The fibroid looks inoperable right now because of the pregnancy. But everything is going to be okay. Your baby is going to be okay."
Pregnant.
The word ricocheted inside me, and I felt my knees weaken. My mother's eyes were shining with fear and hope all at once, but I knew she'd already guessed what was going through my head.
Just like her, I'd found out I was carrying life at the exact moment my marriage was falling apart. My husband out of the picture. Jeremy and I have being trying for three years—and now this.
Why now? Why, just when I thought I'd left everything behind, life gave me a piece of him I hadn't asked for?
The words kept echoing in my head—you're pregnant. My hands trembled as I pressed them against my stomach, but it didn't feel real. All I felt was fear. All I felt was the weight of everything I'd lost.
"Mum…" My voice cracked as the tears spilled over again. "Am I… am I terrible for feeling this way about the baby? For not feeling happy? For only feeling… trapped?"
Her arms were around me instantly, pulling me into her lap like I was still her little girl. She stroked my hair and rocked me gently. "No, baby. You're not bad. You're human. You've been through so much. You're hurt, betrayed, exhausted. How could you not feel conflicted?"
I sobbed harder, my voice muffled against her shoulder. "I wanted Jeremy to love me so badly. I thought… if I did everything right, maybe I could make him stay. And now, when he's out of my life, when he's finally free of me… God, why now? Why would I carry his child now?"
"Shhh." She kissed the top of my head, her own tears finally slipping free. "Because life doesn't always give us answers in the order we expect. Sometimes it tests us. But hear me, Audrey—this child isn't a punishment. This baby isn't your shame. It's a part of you. Your strength. Your second chance."
I shook my head violently. "But what if I resent it? What if every time I look at this baby, all I see is him—what he said to me, how he hated me, how he chose everyone else but me?"
Her hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at her. "Then you let me help you. You let your family help you. You are not alone, Audrey. And this baby will never, ever be unloved. Not while I'm alive."
Her words broke something open inside me. I curled into her, crying like I hadn't since I was a child. Somewhere between my sobs, I whispered, "I don't know if I can do this."
"Yes, you can," she said, firm but gentle. "Because you're my daughter. And we don't run from life—we face it. Together."