Lorenzo hesitated, afraid she might freak out.
"He's her son," he said quietly.
Ashley blinked, confused. "Whose son?"
"Roseline's."
Her eyes widened in horror.
Lorenzo shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. "I know this might not sit well with you, but I don't plan on harming him. He's just leverage—to scare his mother into telling us whatever she's hiding about Vanessa. I've got someone watching over him," he added quickly.
Ashley glanced back at the little boy. He couldn't have been more than four years old. Toys were scattered around what looked like a massive playroom, but he didn't reach for any of them. He just sat there, small and vulnerable, his face clouded with confusion. She was surprised he wasn't crying—or maybe he already had.
Guilt crept into her chest. This wasn't how she imagined finding answers. Not by using a child.
"Where is this place? And how long have you had him?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. Her mind was struggling to keep up.
