Chapter 8 - The Showdown at the VillaTwo hours later, the security camera on my phone alerted me again.
I expected them to have left, to have gone to a cheap motel or back to Linda’s cramped apartment in the suburbs. But they hadn't. Desperate and realizing that they had truly lost access to their golden goose, they had driven up to my mountain stone villa—the beautiful, rustic stone house that I had built as a private retreat years ago.
They thought that because it was remote, the locks hadn't been changed there yet. They thought they could slip in, find a hiding place, or perhaps corner me if I was staying there.
They didn't know that I was already waiting for them.
Hannah and I had driven up to the mountain villa shortly after the phone call, bringing Liam with us. The mountain air was clean, the stone walls thick and safe. I wanted to face them, not out of anger, but to show them that I was no longer afraid.
The taxi pulled up the gravel path, the engine groaning in the steep mountain air. Ethan, Linda, and Ashley stepped out, dragging their heavy leather suitcases behind them. They looked disheveled, their expensive Miami clothes wrinkled and covered in dust.
When they saw my car parked in the driveway, Linda’s face lit up with a predatory grin. "She’s here! I knew it! She’s hiding in the cabin!"
They marched up the stone steps. Before they could reach the door, the heavy oak door swung open.
I stepped onto the threshold.
I was barefoot, wearing a simple grey t-shirt and green leggings. My auburn curls were wild, my face clean of makeup, but I held my son wrapped in a soft blue blanket against my chest. I stood in the frame of my house, looking down at them like a queen defending her castle.
Ethan stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at me, then down at the tiny bundle in my arms. His eyes filled with tears, and he took a step forward, his hands half-raised in a pleading gesture.
"Vanessa... is that him?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
Beside him, Linda looked shocked, her mouth open in a silent gasp. Ashley stood behind her, her tanned face pale, looking at the stone villa as if she had finally realized the sheer scale of the world they had just lost.
"He is beautiful, Ethan," I said, my voice carrying over the quiet mountain valley. "But he is not yours."
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"Vanessa, please," Ethan dropped to his knees on the stone path, his hands clasped together in desperation. He looked like a broken man, kneeling next to his expensive luggage. "I’ll do anything. I’ll go to therapy. I’ll cut off my mother. Just let me hold him. Let me be his father."
"You had your chance to be a father, Ethan," I said, looking down at him without a single shred of pity. "But when the door clicked shut last Friday, you made your choice. You locked me in. Now, you are locked out."
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