She nodded. “Yes.”
“How dare you! Who in the hell gave you the right to do that, Shelly?”
She felt her own anger rise. “It’s not who but what. My love for you gave me the right, Dare,” she said and without
giving him a chance to say another word, she angrily
walked out of his office.
Fury consumed Dare at a degree he had never known
before and all he could do was stand there, rooted in place, hell-shocked at what he had just discovered.
He had a son.
He crossed the room and slammed his fist hard on the desk. Ten years! For ten years she had kept it from him. Ten solid years.
Ignoring the pain he felt in his hand, he breathed in deeply when it hit him that he was the father of John Doe. No,
she’d called him AJ but she had named him Alisdare
Julian. He took a deep, calming breath. For some reason she had at least done that. His son did have his name—at least part of it anyway. Had he known, his son would also be wearing the name Westmoreland, which was rightfully
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