Four days later, Payton sat alone in the private tea room of the St. Regis, her back straight and her expression unreadable.

Six months after Payton’s disappearance, Spencer sat in his executive corner office, clutching a painful spasm in his left chest. His hands were trembling, his vision occasionally blurring into dark spots.

Chloe walked in, wearing an expensive silk gown, holding her newborn twins—a boy and a girl born six weeks premature.

"Spencer, darling," Chloe purred, laying the babies in a luxury crib near his desk. "The board meeting is in twenty minutes. You need to sign the restructuring agreement to transfer fifteen percent of your voting shares to my family's trust for the babies."

"Not now, Chloe," Spencer groaned, rubbing his temples as a wave of intense fatigue washed over him. "I haven't been feeling well lately. The doctors can't pinpoint why my blood counts are dropping."

"It's just stress from the takeover, sweetie," Chloe said smoothly, sliding a pen into his hand. "Just sign the papers. I'll handle the board."

Just as Spencer touched the pen to the paper, the heavy doors of his office slammed open.

Eleanor walked in, flanked by two armed security guards and Dr. Heinrich, the chief geneticist from Zurich.

"Put the pen down, Spencer!" Eleanor shouted.

"Mother? What is the meaning of this?" Spencer demanded, standing up, but a sudden spike of dizzying pain sent him crashing back into his leather chair.

"Show him, Doctor," Eleanor commanded.

Dr. Heinrich laid the Zurich genetic report on the desk, alongside recent lab results secretly taken from Spencer’s blood work during his last physical.

"Mr. Davis," Dr. Heinrich spoke gravely. "You are suffering from acute vascular degeneration triggered by an aggressive autoimmune reaction. The biological triggers are the paternal antigens transferred to your system during your partner's pregnancy. Chloe's family knew this gene was active in her bloodline."