My billionaire boyfriend’s mother walked into my Vermont farmhouse, placed a blank check on my kitchen table, and said, “Name your price. Then disappear before Adrian learns that child is his.”

Raymond would stare at me, unable to understand why that answer mattered.

What I hadn’t told him was that I’d spent those two years wondering whether Adrian had ever received the letter at all.

Adrian and I met when he was spending time in Vermont, away from his family’s enormous business empire.

Back then, he was simply Adrian.

A thoughtful man who enjoyed quiet mornings, ordinary conversations, and the peace of small-town life.

Then his father suffered a massive stroke.

Almost overnight, Adrian returned to Manhattan and became deeply involved