“You need your daughter,” I say, looking into the smoky-blue eyes of a stern man.
He looks at me for a long time, piercingly—before suddenly stunning me:
“Good try. Only you didn’t take one factor into account, dear: I’m infertile.”
I shake my head. Mарат was my first—and only—man, so I insist, unyielding:
“Your daughter needs your help. Take a DNA test—anything, just help me…”
Tears run down my cheeks when the billionaire steps closer, pulls me into his arms, and exhales directly into my lips:
“If you lied, I won’t spare you. But if… if it’s true, I’ll take the daughter. And you’ll come back to my bed…”