The humor faded from Mr Ashford's eyes. "Go on."
"She couldn't take care of him, she looked for Ethan but couldn't reach him. So she gave him up three days ago," Sofia said, each word heavy. "His name is Cade. He is in foster care now."
Mr. Ashford didn't waste a second. He pulled a phone from his jacket and made a call, his tone authoritative. "Get me someone from child services, now."
Within the hour, Sofia found herself in a meeting room at the child services office. Mr. Ashford's presence seemed to bend the room around him. Strings were pulled, files were opened, and by the next morning, a DNA test confirmed it: Cade was his grandson.
He was granted immediate custody, beginning the adoption process immediately.
But then came the condition.
"You will never tell Clara," Mr. Ashford said, his gaze like steel. "She made her choice. She is not to interfere."
Sofia's chest ached. "She didn't have another choice."
"That doesn't matter now," he said firmly. "If the media hears of this, or if she tries to claim him later, it will harm him. And we will not allow that."
They drew up a contract. Sofia signed. No visits. No questions. No contact. And definitely no telling Clara.
Mrs. Ashford, away with Ethan at the time, returned two days later. By then, they had crafted the story: she had been pregnant before leaving the country, and she had delivered the baby while abroad.
And Sofia kept her promise. She stayed away. She was at peace, knowing Cade was safe and loved.
The memory faded, and Sofia was back in Riley's car, her hands trembling in her lap, but she masked it well, although she could tell Riley wasn't quite convinced.