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Chapter 2: The Adoption

That night, the nightmares came.

In my sleep, I heard my mother’s weeping voice echoing from five years ago: “If you marry Preston Sterling, you are no longer a Kensington. You will step out of this house and never return.”

Then came Preston’s honeyed, venomous promises: “I will never betray you, Blair. From now on, I am your only family in this world.”

Over the past five years, he had played the role of the devoted husband flawlessly. I once pointed to the night sky while we were on a yacht in Monaco, jokingly saying I loved a specific, brightly burning star. A month later, on our anniversary, he presented me with an official certificate from the International Star Registry. That brilliant blue star belonged entirely to me. He even installed a massive, professional-grade astronomical telescope on our penthouse balcony.

I had used that star, and my “flawless” marriage, as mental armor against the guilt of abandoning my parents.

If marriage was a gamble, I had bet my entire life savings on a rigged table.

A few days later, my phone rang. It was the director of the elite, private foster agency Preston had been funding.

“Ms. Kensington,” the director said warmly. “A wealthy couple just came in requesting to formally adopt Lily. Mr. Sterling specifically requested you come down to the agency to review the situation.”

I changed into a sharp, understated trench coat and had my driver take me to the agency. As I walked up the grand marble staircase, I saw Preston standing on the landing above me. I was about to call out his name when a woman burst out of the director’s office and threw herself directly into his arms.

“Preston! You’re finally here!” she sobbed. “Please, don’t let them take Lily!”

It was Vanessa Thorne.

Preston wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. “Shh, don’t worry, Vanessa. I won’t let anyone take our daughter. I told you, I have it handled.”

“I don’t want Lily calling anyone else ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’!” Vanessa cried.

“She won’t,” Preston whispered fiercely. “I will make sure Lily is officially, legally integrated into the Sterling family trust. Just play along with the adoption paperwork.”

Vanessa sniffled, pulling back to look at him. “It doesn’t matter what you tell Blair. Legally, you and I are husband and wife. But what are you going to do about her? She’s going to expect to be the mother.”

Preston frowned, a look of profound annoyance crossing his handsome face. “I only gave her that fake certificate five years ago so her trust-fund friends wouldn’t mock her for living in sin. I’ve given her the lifestyle of a billionaire’s wife. She has everything she could ever want. Don’t cause trouble for her, Vanessa. Blair hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Vanessa scoffed, clearly displeased. “I’m not going to fight for the public title of Mrs. Sterling yet. I know I don’t have the Kensington pedigree for the board members.”

“Don’t say that,” Preston said quickly, cupping her cheek. “You are giving the Sterling family an heir. My mother adores you.”

My heart physically stopped. His mother.

His mother had always treated me with veiled contempt because I had walked away from my family’s wealth, bringing zero corporate dowry to the marriage. She had constantly belittled me, calling me a barren trophy wife.

She knew. His entire family knew Vanessa was his actual wife. I was the only fool in the dark.

I silently followed them as they walked toward the director’s office, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Before they reached the door, Preston suddenly pulled Vanessa into an empty storage room, kicking the door shut.

Seconds later, the muffled, unmistakable sounds of breathless passion and heavy groans drifted through the drywall.

I stood in the hallway, leaning heavily against the wallpaper to keep from collapsing. My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms they drew blood. This was the man who claimed he was too exhausted from corporate acquisitions to be intimate with me for the past six months.

I didn’t scream. I smoothed my coat, walked into the director’s office, and sat down.

Ten minutes later, Preston and Vanessa walked in, looking perfectly professional, though Vanessa’s lipstick was visibly smudged.

“Blair! You made it,” Preston smiled, taking the seat next to me and kissing my cheek.

“We need to finalize the intent to adopt,” the director said, sliding a thick file across the desk.

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I pulled the file toward me and opened it. The birth certificate listed Lily’s date of birth. It was exactly six months after my lavish “wedding” in Italy. During the exact timeframe Preston was supposedly on a three-week “solo spiritual retreat” in the Alps.

I closed the file and pushed it back. “I don’t intend to adopt Lily. You can proceed with the other couple’s application.”

Preston froze. “Blair, what are you saying? We agreed.”

“I never agreed,” I said coldly. “You wanted to adopt her. You didn’t even consult me before drafting the paperwork.”

Vanessa stepped forward from the corner of the office, crossing her arms. “Blair, how can you be so heartless? Lily is a brilliant, beautiful child. Do you have no maternal instinct?”

I slowly stood up, turning to face Vanessa. I was betrayed. I was lied to. I was defrauded. And yet, this mistress had the audacity to stand in front of me and paint me as the villain.

“If she is so beautiful and brilliant, Vanessa,” I said, my voice lethal, “why don’t you adopt her yourself?”

Vanessa’s face went chalk-white. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Preston quickly stepped between us, glaring at me. “Blair, that is incredibly inappropriate. Vanessa is a single, career-driven woman. How could she adopt a child alone?”

“Maybe she can find a married man to help her,” I replied smoothly.

Preston’s jaw clenched. “You are being irrational. We are adopting her, and that is final.”

“If my heart is dead to the idea, you can do whatever you want, Preston,” I said, picking up my purse. “But I won’t be her mother.”

As I walked out of the office, Vanessa followed me to the marble staircase. We were alone on the landing.

“Do you really think people will side with you?” Vanessa whispered venomously, her sweet facade dropping entirely. “Everyone knows you’re barren, Blair. Preston’s mother calls you a useless hen behind your back.”

“Vicious dogs always bark the loudest,” I said, adjusting my scarf.

Vanessa’s eyes flashed with pure rage. She heard Preston’s heavy footsteps approaching the hallway behind her.

Before I could even blink, Vanessa deliberately threw herself backward.

With a piercing scream, she tumbled down the first flight of marble stairs, landing in a heap on the landing below. I instinctively reached out to grab her, but my hand only caught the air.

Preston rounded the corner just in time to see me standing with my arm outstretched, and Vanessa weeping on the floor.

“Vanessa!” Preston roared, shoving me violently against the railing. He sprinted down the stairs, gathering her into his arms.

“Preston,” Vanessa sobbed, clutching his lapel. “Don’t blame Blair. She just hates Lily so much. I tried to reason with her, and she snapped.”

Preston turned his head, looking up at me with absolute, unadulterated hatred. “You are a monster, Blair. I despise two-faced women. You better pray she isn’t seriously injured, or I will ruin you.”

He scooped her up and carried her out the front doors.

I stood alone on the staircase. I looked down at my hand.

I didn’t cry. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in five years.

It rang once before a deep, lazy, incredibly arrogant voice answered.

“Well, well. To what do I owe the profound honor of a phone call from the runaway bride?”

“Roman,” I said, ignoring his sarcasm. “Is the engagement between the Kensington and Carlisle families still valid?”

Roman Carlisle chuckled darkly through the receiver. He was a multi-billionaire corporate raider, the heir to a dynasty that made the Sterlings look like peasants. “Miss Kensington, you certainly know how to tell a joke. Aren’t you playing house with that real estate peasant? If you’re looking for a discreet affair, you’ve dialed the wrong billionaire.”

“I am asking a simple question, Roman. Is the contract still valid?”

The line went silent. The playful arrogance evaporated. When Roman spoke again, his voice was deadly serious, vibrating with an intensity that made the hair on my arms stand up.

“It is valid. It is forever valid. As long as you give the word, I am ready to become your legal husband.”

“I have some loose ends to tie up in New York,” I said, my voice steady. “Meet me at the Manhattan City Clerk’s office next Monday at 9:00 AM.”

Roman let out a low, predatory hum. “Anyone who doesn’t show up is a coward.”

I hung up the phone. The war had officially begun.

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