The phone stopped ringing as she reached it and she realised that there was a fax coming through.

Relieved that it obviously hadn’t been anything to do with Libby, she turned to leave the room but then she recognised her name on the top of the paper.

Feeling vaguely uncomfortable, she reached for the first sheet and saw the bold letterhead of a major London law firm followed by a heading that contained her name.

Hands shaking, she clutched at the paper, reading the report that followed. Her face paled and she sank down onto one of Alex’s chairs as she read the detail of the lawyer’s investigations.

She was still staring at the paper in mute horror when Zoe pushed her way into the room.

‘Daisy’s finished her milk and Athena has dripped paint on Uncle Alex’s floor,’ she said, tilting her head to one side as she looked at Jenny. ‘You look sick? Are you sick?’

Jenny struggled to find her voice. ‘I’m not sick,’ she croaked, standing up with an effort and putting the papers down on Alex’s desk. ‘I’m fine.’

Considering the fact that she’d just discovered that Alex couldn’t possibly be Daisy’s father. According to the report, he’d done no more than dance one dance with her sister that night and Chloe had left with someone entirely different. Someone who she’d then spent the night with. A high-profile public figure who was married and already had three children by his very beautiful wife. A man whose marriage was held up as a perfect example of family life.

No wonder Chloe had been reluctant to tell her who the father was.

Jenny covered her eyes with her hands, utterly consumed by the enormity of Chloe’s lies.

It was clear now why she’d refused to name the baby’s father right through her pregnancy. To have exposed this man would have led to a massive public scandal that would have harmed everyone, including Chloe and her unborn child.

Jenny sucked in a breath.

Had this man ever known about the baby? Had her sister even tried to contact him? Or had he regretted his affair and turned his back on her?

Perhaps she’d never know the answer, but one thing she did know for sure—Alex Westerling was not Daisy’s father.

She thought about all the accusations she’d flung at him and gave a groan of horror. How could she have said all those terrible things? And she’d forced herself and Daisy on him, moved into his house, interrupted his life…

She raised a hand to her mouth, totally appalled at her own behaviour.

How could she have done that?

But she knew the answer, of course. She’d believed Chloe. And Chloe, knowing that she was dangerously ill, had obviously wanted to secure protection for Daisy. A mother’s instinct to do the best for her child.

But whatever Chloe’s motivations had been, the truth was that Alex had absolutely no responsibility towards Daisy at all and she didn’t fool herself that he felt anything for her other than lust.