Spencer’s blood ran cold. Richard. His charming, philanthropic, beloved older brother, who currently sat on the board of the Warren Empire. Richard, who played golf with senators and smiled for magazine covers.
"Amelia grew up, met a good man, and had Charlee," Florence continued, her voice growing weaker. "But they died in a car crash four years ago. It’s just been me and Charlee ever since. When my heart started failing, I knew I couldn't leave her to the foster system. I came back to Pinecrest Heights last week. I was going to beg you to take her in. But then... I saw her."
"Saw who?" Spencer demanded, leaning forward.
"Jocelyn," Florence whispered. "I was resting on a bench near your estate's service entrance. I saw Jocelyn Cooper. She was pregnant, and she looked terrified. She was arguing with a man."
"Who was the man?" Spencer asked, his heart hammering against his ribs. Dr. Pamela Ortiz’s confession rang in his ears. Jocelyn would never have abandoned her baby.