She’d lied to him, to all of them that night at the tiny house. Afraid the baby might be killed, or that James would try to claim it, she’d forced out the lie that she wasn’t pregnant. And because of privacy laws, he still didn’t know that he was soon to be a father.

As the doctor continued the ultrasound, Sophia thought of the money, all of the Amhurst fortune.

Not only did she deserve her share, but her baby should inherit it all.

She’d made certain James didn’t know, that he wouldn’t come with a bevy of lawyers demanding she give him the child or any sort of parental rights whatsoever.

Not now.

Not until the timing was right.

She wasn’t certain exactly what her maternal rights were as she was in prison, but she was going to work the system to make certain she was a part of her baby’s life.

Forever.

She opened her eyes, and lying on her back, Sophia watched a bug crawling across the ceiling tile and noticed a spiderweb directly in its path in the corner.

Stupid, wretched insect.

As the doctor stared at the ultrasound screen, Sophia noticed the bug reach the web, disturbing the intricate strands, and the spider quickly scuttle out of its hiding spot in the corner, pouncing, biting, and paralyzing its unsuspecting prey before wrapping it up for savoring later.

Sophia connected with the spider, intent on survival.

Suddenly, the wand over her belly stopped moving.

“Is something wrong?” Sophia asked, worried. She’d been told that the bullet that had hit her had gone through and through, nicking her spleen and her stomach, but sparing all other organs, including her uterus.

“No.” The doctor shook her head, and the wand began moving slowly again and the doctor, glancing at the screen, began to smile. “Nothing at all. Except, hear that other noise, fainter, but steady?”

She did. Barely audible. An echoing, whooshing sound.

Oh. My.

“And look at this . . .” The doctor pointed to the screen, and Sophia looked at the monitor. “Two,” the doctor said, nodding slowly. “You’re carrying twins.” A broad smile cracked her face. “How about that?”

“Twins?” Sophia whispered, hardly believing.

She thought to the future.

About James.

About the Cahill and Amhurst fortunes.

About not one, but two heirs.

The vengeful rage within her burned a little hotter as she thought of the twins, joined together for life. One would be named Amhurst, the other Cahill, or variations thereof.

“Amy” or “Hurst” and “Cassie” or “Cade.” Depending on their sexes.

She glanced again at the spider on the ceiling and saw that it was now looming over the trapped insect and appeared to be feeding on the bug, sucking out its blood, while the insect could do nothing but accept its horrid, deadly fate.

She thought then of James, and the vengeance in her heart turned ice-cold.

She would have to be patient.