Claiming Kane’s Forgotten Heiress

Summary

Three years after the accident that stole my memory, I slipped away from the estate on an overcast Tuesday morning, holding my three-year-old son by the hand, intent on buying him a strawberry shortcake.

We had barely stepped onto the sidewalk outside the bakery when a man materialized from the crowd, blocking our path. Before I could pull back, his fingers clamped around my wrist like a vice. His gaze dropped to the little boy clinging to my coat, and his eyes rimmed with sudden, violent crimson.