Page 32 of The Billionaire's Accidental Legacy

Toward the estate. Toward her.

Until she was in his sight, they would be nothing but this. This confusion. This jumble of sound inside his soul.

This fractured feeling.

Wasit his child? It might not be. He had been her first. He had been the man to introduce her to pleasure, and so maybe he had awakened a hunger in her.

She had been an eager lover.

It was possible the baby belonged to someone else.

Does it matter?

What manner of father could he be?

All he knew was pain in that relationship. A father and son.

He had spent his life avoiding attachment.

He had none.

He changed assistants at least once a year. The staff on his private jet never remained the same. His clubs were constantly in a state of flux, as clubs often were. The ambiance, the employees, all shifted continually.

And he didn’t stay long enough to truly get to know anyone.

He had tried to the best of his ability to escape this place. This place. As his feet met with the damp ground, it felt as if it was mocking him. Bringing up pieces of his childhood. Of the pain there.

He had been left outside in the cold before. Unable to warm his feet as they sank into the soft grass.

Huddled in a corner of the property trying to find some shelter.

He had been beaten. Shut away.

Starved. His father had always been cruel. His grief had driven him mad.

Turned him into a sadist who hid behind a raft of rules and a need to control, control, control the son he’d borne. To make him the perfect heir as he would be the only one, the only hope.

He did not seem to realize that the way he’d treated his heir could have killed him.

As if bleeding his own pain out onto his son might heal him in some way. Like draining the poison to Ewan would fix something.

So Ewan had decided to deny him in every way. He’d cut off the estate. He’d disgraced their name. He’d decided there would be no children.

It was what his father had deserved. And so how was there a child now? How was hehere?

How was he here?

That thought propelled him to the back door of the estate.

And he was ready to kick the door down when it opened. And there she was.

She was wearing a red flowing gown that poured over her curves. The neckline was plunging, showing her overflowing breasts. And the rest of the gown was loose, flowing easily over that baby bump.

“I knew it was only a matter of time,” she said, shaking her head.

Her hair was lighter now. A chocolate brown rather than the raven’s wing from five months ago. She was no less beautiful. If anything, even more so, with her curves rounded by her pregnancy.

She was clearly unwilling to appear even the least bit surprised. That cool calculation of hers he’d seen at the poker tables was visible here.

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