I laughed when I saw my ex-wife walking along a deserted Tennessee highway with two babies strapped to her chest.

The heavy oak door clicked shut behind me as I stepped into the foyer. The crystal chandelier cast a brilliant, blinding light over the polished marble floors—floors that Megan had once walked barefoot, humming old folk tunes while she arranged wildflowers in glass vases. Tiffany had replaced those wildflowers with sleek, modern orchids that required zero maintenance and emitted no scent.

“Garrett? Is that you?” Tiffany’s voice drifted down the sweeping curved staircase. She was wearing a silk robe the color of champagne, her blonde hair falling in soft, immaculate waves over her shoulders. She looked the very picture of domestic tranquility, holding a glass of Pinot Noir in her manicured hand. “Walter said you were out late inspecting the south depot again. You really need to delegate, darling. You work too hard.”

She reached the bottom of the stairs, smiling that familiar, practiced smile that had charmed half the board members in Nashville. But as she took a step closer and saw the look in my eyes—the cold, flat fury that had made competitors hand over their trucking routes without a fight—the smile froze on her lips.

“Garrett? What’s wrong?”

“Where is she?” I asked.

“Who?” Tiffany laughed nervously, taking a sip of wine. “Megan? Did you see that wretched creature again? Walter said you passed her on the highway. Honestly, Garrett, you should have had the police pick her up for vagrancy. Dragging babies along a highway like some kind of—ecosystem refugee—it’s embarrassing for the Sullivan name.”

I crossed the marble floor in three long strides until I was standing right in front of her. She took an involuntary step back, her spine hitting the polished mahogany of the entry table.

“You set her up,” I said quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

“The hotel photos. The bank transfers. The sapphire necklace.” I reached out, my fingers wrapping around the stem of the wine glass she was holding. With a slow, deliberate pressure, I took it from her hand and set it down on the table without spilling a drop. “You paid Russell Cole to fabricate the evidence. You used Walter to plant my grandmother’s heirloom in her suitcase while she was sleeping.”

Tiffany’s jaw tightened, but her voice retained its honeyed defensive edge. “Russell is a disgraced private investigator who will say anything to make a quick buck, Garrett! Are you really going to believe a sleazebag with a record over your future wife?”

“She was pregnant when you threw her out,” I said, my voice dropping an octave. “She was carrying my children. Twins, Tiffany. And a little girl whose heart was failing. Where is Hazel?”

The color drained from Tiffany’s face so fast it looked like someone had pulled a bedsheet over her head. The mask slipped completely, revealing the calculating predator underneath—the woman who had spent years positioning herself to inherit the Sullivan logistics fortune by eliminating anyone who stood in her way.

“You don't know anything,” she whispered, her voice losing its sweetness. “If you try to find her, if you ruin everything we’ve built—the municipal contracts, the state shipping routes, our engagement announcement in the *Tennessean*—I will tear your company apart from the inside. I have auditors on payroll who know every loophole you ever used to build this empire, Garrett. One phone call to the IRS and you’ll be sharing a cell with common thieves.”

“You think I care about the trucks?” I stared down at her, feeling a strange, liberating lightness in my chest. For thirteen years I had thought money and power were the only things that mattered. Now I realized I would burn every truck in my fleet down to scrap metal just to look my daughter in the eye.

“You care about your legacy,” Tiffany hissed, her fingernails digging into the edge of the mahogany table. “And your legacy is built on compliance. If you cross me, I’ll make sure the world knows that Garrett Sullivan abandoned his own flesh and blood to live a lie.”