“Ten,” I say it again. “Not a penny more.”

“Give me the address,” he says, and I grab the card from my SUV and hand it to him.

“I’ll be there at eight. If you aren’t there by eight thirty, the offer will never happen again.”

“Fine by me,” he says, smiling and snickering. “Kid’s been a dark cloud following me ever since he came into my life.” His hand comes up. “I’ll be there at eight.”

He turns around and walks away, and I finally let out the breath I was holding and put my hands on my knees. “Did he just sell his fucking kid for ten thousand dollars?”

“I would have given him everything I have,” I say, watching him disappear.

“You going to tell her about this?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“Not until he signs the papers,” I say, and he just looks at me. “Nothing until he signs.”

I don’t mention it again, and that night when I get to tuck Dylan in and tell him I love him and he hugs me back, I put my hand on the medallion hanging around my neck.

The next morning, I make a stupid excuse about hitting the gym with Matthew, and I can see right away that Caroline doesn’t believe me. But I kiss her and walk out to Matthew, who picks me up, except he’s picking me up in an SUV instead of his car, and when I get in, I look in the back seat and see that all the men are there. “You didn’t think you’d do this alone?” my father asks, and I don’t say anything.

We get to my lawyer’s office at ten minutes to eight, and every single minute that passes feels like an eternity. My father and Matthew sit beside the lawyer at the head of the table in the conference room. Evan, Viktor, Max, and Markos are sitting two by two in front of each other.

When it finally gets to eight, I start pacing back and forth, and at eight ten, he saunters into the office. “I fucking hate that fuck,” Max says.

“You got the money?” he asks, and Matthew just shakes his head.

“Not until you sign this.” I put the paper forward, and my lawyer speaks up.

“This is you signing away your parental rights,” he says. “You at no time can contact Dylan Woods.”

“Don’t want to see his face either,” he says as he signs on the dotted line, and I think my father is going to jump over the table.

“Are you sure you understand what I just said?” my lawyer asks, making sure that he gets all this on camera.

“Yeah,” Andrew says. “The fucking kid isn’t mine; he’s his problem now.” He motions to me with his head. “Now where is my cash?”