Every time a child is born, they receive a locket. No one knows where it comes from, but they know what it does. It’s not a locket of great powers, or of great strength. But it is a locket that changes lives, and it will help you decide your fate.

"Pregnant," he said, the word rolling off his tongue. "Yes, Mr. Devereux, I am pregnant with your child." She cast her eyes down at her nails to avoid his intense hazel eyes. "Anyway, you don't even remember me. I just thought you should know. Goodbye." Oh, yes, he remembered this one. She had been a challenge, and when he finally stumbled into bed with her, he didn't ever want to stop his deep thrusting or the desperate movements of her hands in his hair, pulling him closer until they came together. "Olivia," he said, drawing out her name the same way he had during their passionate night. "I want my child. Give me proof it's mine so I can take this predicament off your hands." She laughed at the insensitive man. "How dare you have the nerve to call my child a predicament? There is nothing unpleasant about the blood I carry. Goodbye, Mr. Devereux, and I hope you rot in hell."