Dominic stared at the phone as Dr.
Reed’s final words settled over the room.
“The results were conclusive,” the doctor said.
“You are permanently infertile.
The pregnancy Audrey lost was almost certainly your only chance to have a biological child.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Paige sat frozen on the sofa in Audrey’s silk robe, one hand wrapped around a champagne glass.
Victoria stood near the fireplace, her posture rigid, as though refusing to react could somehow change what had been said.
Dominic’s face emptied of color.
“You’re wrong,” he whispered.
“I reviewed the tests personally,” Dr.
Reed replied.
“I advised you to schedule a follow-up appointment.
You never did.”
Dominic ended the call without answering.
The phone slipped from his hand and struck the rug.
He looked toward his mother, searching for an explanation she could not give him.
“She was pregnant,” he said.
Victoria recovered first.
“Audrey was always dramatic.
The doctor may be exaggerating what happened.”
“He said she lost my child.”
“He said she lost a pregnancy.
We don’t know anything beyond that.”
Paige stood and pulled the robe tighter around herself.
“Maybe I should leave.”
Dominic turned on her with such sudden anger that she stopped.
“You answered the hospital phone.”
Her expression changed.
“I didn’t know it was the hospital.”
“The nurse said who she was.”
Paige glanced at Victoria.
That single glance told him everything.
Victoria lifted her chin.
“You were in no condition to deal with another one of Audrey’s scenes.
I told Paige not to disturb you.”
Dominic stared at his mother as though seeing a stranger wearing her face.
Before he could speak, his phone chimed on the floor.
Then Victoria’s phone chimed.
Then Paige’s.
A formal notice had been sent to every executive and board member of Hale Development.
The company’s operating accounts were temporarily restricted pending an emergency ownership review.
All major expenditures required immediate approval from the majority shareholder.
Dominic read the message twice.
“This is impossible.”
He called the chief financial officer.
No answer.
He called the bank.
The representative informed him that the restriction had been ordered under rights contained in the company’s rescue-financing agreement.
“What majority shareholder?” Dominic demanded.
“I am the controlling owner.”
“According to the documents on file, you hold thirty-one percent of voting shares,” the representative said.
“Sterling Meridian Holdings controls sixty-two percent.”
Dominic’s chest tightened.
Sterling Meridian was the private firm that had appeared two years earlier when Hale Development was close to collapse.
At the time, Dominic had called its investment a miracle.
The firm had purchased bad debt, guaranteed payroll, and provided the capital that allowed him to finish three stalled projects.
He had been so desperate that he signed every document his lawyers placed in front of him.
His lawyers had warned him that the investor would receive broad control rights.
Dominic had dismissed the concern.
Sterling Meridian was silent, distant, and profitable.
It had never interfered with his decisions.
Until now.
Paige was reading the notice over his shoulder.
“Dominic, isn’t Sterling Meridian the company that saved you?”
He did not answer.
A second notification appeared.
The mansion’s outstanding debt had been called for immediate review.
Victoria snatched the phone from his hand.
“This house has no debt.
It belongs to me.”
Dominic looked at her.
