Chapter 2 - The Standoff in the Showroom
"Stand down, Marco!" Ethan roared, his voice slicing through the boutique like thunder. He didn't even look back at his head of security. "Lower that weapon right now, or I will put you in the ground myself."
Marco hesitated for half a second before holstering his firearm and stepping back, his jaw tight.
Victoria took a sharp, uneasy breath, clutching Ethan's shoulder. "Ethan, darling... what is this? Who is this woman?"
"She is my wife," Ethan replied, never breaking eye contact with me.
"Ex-wife, Ethan," I corrected, my voice cold, steady, and clear despite the frantic pounding of my heart against my ribs. "The divorce decree was filed in Delaware six months ago."
"I never signed the final distribution waiver, Bella," Ethan said, taking another measured step forward until he was standing just three feet from the crib railing. "You walked out of our penthouse in the middle of the night. You turned off your transponder, emptied a private safety deposit box, and vanished into thin air."
His gaze dropped to the curve of my belly, his jaw muscles clenching with raw, suppressed fury.
"You hid my child from me."
"This is my baby, Ethan," I said, stepping backward against the crib. "You made your world a warzone. I refused to let my baby grow up surrounded by armored glass, bomb sweeps, and men who measure love in body counts."
Victoria stepped up beside Ethan, her eyes flashing with venomous indignation. "Ethan, you cannot be serious! She abandoned you! She ran away to have a child in secret, probably to extort your family trust for child support! Look at her—she's a liability to the Romano name!"
Ethan turned his head slowly, looking down at Victoria with an expression of such icy disdain that the heiress recoiled a step.
"Victoria," Ethan said softly, his tone dripping with lethal menace. "Take the town car outside. Go home."
"Ethan, we came here to select furniture for the Hamptons—"
"I said leave," Ethan commanded.
Victoria’s face burned with public humiliation. She shot me a glare of pure, unadulterated hatred before gathering her designer purse and storming out through the boutique's glass doors.
May you like
Ethan turned back to me, the anger in his eyes giving way to a dark, possessive intensity.
"You’re coming home with me, Bella," Ethan said, reaching his hand toward my arm. "Right now."
