Wealthy.
Entitled.
Monarch.
Dr. Astor Potter was everything I despised in a man.
It didn’t matter that he was my sister’s one-night stand or her closest colleague.
I wasn’t charmed by his philanthropy or the way he made babies laugh using those ridiculous voices.
Dr. Potter was cold, detached, and reeked of disdain.
Nothing mattered to him.
Not the messages I left.
Or the tears I shed.
Nothing brought him to life.
Until my sister died.
And I placed my newborn niece in his arms.
Her father’s arms.
He didn’t know about the baby.
Neither did I.
They say love can’t be born from hate and grief.
I’m inclined to agree.
But then he asked me to stay…