CHAPTER 26
The letter came anonymously.
Plain white paper, no signature, no hint of anyone’s identity, no scent, no trace of another person’s hand. Just a few lines, printed from a computer:
He stared at those words for a long time. Turned the paper over in his hands, as if something else might be hidden there—something that would explain who wrote it, and why.
He didn’t believe it.
Of course he didn’t. If some girl had gotten pregnant from him, she would’ve shown up in person with that “joyful” news, not sent anonymous letters.
It had to be nonsense.
He thought he’d forget the letter. Throw it out, tear it up, burn it—make it stop existing. But it lodged in his mind like a splinter and wouldn’t let go.
He tried not to think about it. Tried to shrug it off. But whenever he closed his eyes—he saw those words again.
“You have a daughter.”
He looked at the birth date, did rough math, tried to figure out when it could’ve happened. It lined up with the exact time he’d been partying like a maniac.
He found the group home’s address, checked the dates in the child’s file. She had entered the system shortly after birth. Now she was two years old.
But he still didn’t believe it. Thought someone was trying to scam him. Maybe someone wanted to dump their kid on him? He should’ve just forgotten it—but something wouldn’t let him.
He bribed a staff member at the group home. Asked her to smuggle out the little girl’s pacifier.
He got a DNA test.
The results came a week later. Only one line mattered:
99.9%.
Lynn was his daughter.
He sat in his bedroom, hiding the papers from his parents, and all he could hear was the ringing in his ears.
He didn’t know what to feel.
He went to the group home. Saw her for the first time. Small. Fragile. A tiny thing.
She was sitting in a playpen in the group room, chewing on a toy. Light hair, big green eyes.
His eyes.
There was no doubt she was his child.
He froze in the doorway. Didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t imagine himself as a father. The word didn’t fit him; it didn’t compute. He’d lived without attachments. Never thought about a family or kids. And suddenly someone else’s entire life tangled into his own.
He was serious about starting the adoption process. She was his biological child—he wasn’t married, sure, but wouldn’t the law be on his side?
There was one thing he hadn’t considered…
“You’ve lost your damn mind?!” his father barked, throwing the papers onto the desk when Jasper told him everything. “What daughter?!”
Jasper looked at him, barely holding back his irritation.
“My daughter.”
His father paced the office back and forth, drilling him with a furious stare.
“You want to take in a kid you learned about yesterday? You don’t even know who her mother is!
What if you were scammed? We just buried one scandal, and now you’re handing me another?
How am I supposed to explain this to the public?
You’re not the son of some plumber, Jasper—there are things you simply cannot do!
You can’t slap our last name on her and make her part of this family! ”
“Why not?” Jasper’s voice was icy.
“Because it’s a mistake! Your mistake! You want everyone talking about this? You finally cleaned up your life, everything’s stabilizing, and now you want to throw it all away? For who? For a child you didn’t even know existed until today?!”
“She’s my daughter. I’m not leaving her there.” His decision was firm.
“You want people pointing fingers at our family? What kids, Jasper? You’re completely irresponsible—you can’t do a damn thing without me!”
He clenched his fists.
“I don’t care. If I have to, I’ll raise her myself. I don’t need your help.”
His father stopped cold.
“You don’t care? You’re only thinking about yourself! Do you have any idea what’ll happen if you take her? Who stands to gain from this?”
Jasper slowly got to his feet.
“I’m taking her.”
His father stayed silent for a long time.
“Do whatever you want,” he finally said, voice cold as ice. “But you’ll handle this on your own. I won’t help you with anything. Not money, not connections. And if you manage to pull this off—then you can forget the way back to this house and forget you’re my son.”
“I don’t need your help.”
He walked out without looking back.
The next day, he found a good attorney and started gathering the paperwork.
And he spent a long time analyzing the situation, trying to figure out who the girl was—the one who’d gotten pregnant from him and left a baby to end up in state custody? Why had she told him about the child now?
Eventually, he came to one troubling conclusion…
He hired a private investigator. Something didn’t add up. Rumor had it that Nina had given birth prematurely and the baby hadn’t survived. But that “premature birth” landed on October third of the same year Catherine Turner was born.
Everything suddenly clicked into place, and he couldn’t even blame her.
She’d married that idiot already pregnant with his child.
What had happened between them back then?
Occasionally the question surfaced, but he knew digging into the past—or blaming her for leaving his daughter like a stray kitten—wouldn’t do any good.
She had her life, he had his. A life that had changed beyond recognition.
He remembered bringing Lynn home for the first time. She hadn’t understood what was happening—she’d been too little. And he’d been terrified he wouldn’t manage.
He wasn’t ready for any of it. Had no idea what to do with a child, how to raise her, how to be a father at all.
But it turned out easier than he’d expected. He just lived for her. Lynn became the purpose of his life.
For the first few years, he slept beside her crib, jolting awake at every tiny sound she made. He was terrified that if he blinked, something might happen to her.
His father, as promised, stopped supporting him financially.
Jasper spent all his savings on the PI’s services and greasing the right palms to speed up the adoption.
He had to rent a small apartment and work constantly.
His mother sent him money behind his father’s back every now and then—enough for a babysitter and toys and little things Lynn needed.
Lynn grew, and something grew in him along with her. He’d never been a gentle person, never felt true attachment. But she didn’t need softness. She’d just take his hand and look at him as if he were the center of her world.
And he tried to be that.
He didn’t find a woman. Didn’t even try to build anything real with anyone. After what he’d done to Nina, sex wasn’t something he wanted anymore.
He hated himself.
He was disgusted by himself.
At first, he’d tried blaming it all on booze, on anger, on the fact that Nina had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time—but that was a pathetic excuse.
He was just like his father.
A terrible truth he’d tried to ignore, but it ate him alive.
He avoided women. Had no flings, no relationships. Lynn didn’t need revolving-door guests in their home, and frankly, neither did he.
He devoted his life to raising his daughter, finishing school, working. Later he got involved in charity. He thought that if he did enough good, it would wash away his sins. That if he saved enough people, it would outweigh the night he’d destroyed someone else’s life.
Nina’s face slowly dissolved in his memory. Even if he’d wanted to recall it, he couldn’t. Twenty-two years had passed, and he’d seen her only once in a photo—aside from that night when everything around him blurred and his memory had been wiped clean.
And now she was here again.
Back in his life.
He didn’t even know who the woman was who’d saved his daughter until he asked his people to find out. And now he didn’t know what to do with that knowledge.
He wasn’t afraid for himself—he was afraid for Lynn. Everything he’d built, everything he’d given her, could collapse in a single moment.
He didn’t understand why Nina had found them. She hadn’t looked for the child in all these years, hadn’t asked about her life. And now suddenly she was digging. Why?
The answer was obvious: revenge.
He concluded she wanted to destroy what he had.
And the most terrifying part—she could.
He knew his daughter. Lynn was stubborn, honest, blunt. She didn’t understand shades of gray. For her, everything was black or white. If she learned the truth, if she realized what kind of man her father had been… he’d lose her.
That terrified him more than anything else. He didn’t care if Nina hated him or wanted to ruin his reputation. She had every right. He’d earned that hatred. Back then he’d paid no price for what he’d done—maybe now was the time.
But Lynn could never learn the truth about how she was conceived. She could never know that the story about her mother dying in childbirth was a lie he created. She could never know that she’d been abandoned for two whole years.
He wouldn’t allow it.
If he had to buy Nina’s silence, he would.
If she wanted a divorce from Frank Osborne, perfect—he’d arrange it, even cover her legal fees.
If she wanted to crush her ex—better yet, he’d help.
As long as she stayed away from his family.
As long as, under no circumstances, she ever told Lynn who she really was.