For 10 years, I lived with the certainty that I was sterile. I divorced the love of my life because she was pregnant with quadruplets. I called her a traitor
“Call my lawyer. Call the best criminal defense team in the city. And get the Private Investigator, Mr. Vance, on the phone. Now.”
As the window rolled up, blocking out the sight of his freezing daughters, Marcus knew his life as he knew it was over. He had built a billion-dollar empire, but he was the poorest man on earth.
PART 2: The Billion-Dollar Lie
The ride back to the Blackwood estate was silent, but inside Marcus’s head, a storm was raging. He didn’t go home. He went straight to his office in the Loop, pouring himself a glass of whiskey that cost more than most people earned in a month.
An hour later, Vance, the private investigator, walked in. He looked nervous. He slapped a thick file onto the mahogany desk.
“You’re not going to like this, Mr. Blackwood,” Vance said.
Marcus opened the file.
Page 1: Elena Rodriguez. Inmate #89402 at Cook County Jail. Charged with petty theft (shoplifting antibiotics and milk). Bail set at $5,000. She couldn’t pay it, so she had been sitting there for three weeks awaiting trial.
Page 2: Birth certificates of the minors. Olivia, Emma, Sophia, Ava Rodriguez. Father: Unknown. Date of birth: Exactly seven months after he kicked Elena out. Premature, but healthy.
Page 3: A medical addendum.
This was the smoking gun. Vance had done some digging into the old medical records from the fertility clinic Marcus had used ten years ago. The clinic that had declared him sterile.
“I tracked down the urologist, Dr. Henderson,” Vance said, lighting a cigarette without asking. “He’s retired now. Living in a beach house in Florida that a doctor’s salary shouldn’t be able to afford.”
“And?” Marcus asked, his voice low and dangerous.
