Chapter 3 - The Lion’s Den
Arthur Kingsley looked older than his sixty-five years. The patriarch of Kingsley Industries, a man who commanded boardrooms with a single icy glare, looked hollowed out by the day's events. Behind him, Grant’s eyes were bloodshot, his expensive tuxedo wrinkled, and his face twisted into an ugly mask of fury and humiliation.
“Claire,” Arthur rasped, his voice tight with controlled desperation. He didn't even look at Dominic, though the younger billionaire was practically radiating hostility from his chair.
“Arthur,” I replied, keeping my voice level, one hand resting protectively over Chloe’s blanket. “You shouldn't have troubled yourself. Visiting hours are almost over.”
“Cut the pleasantries,” Grant snapped, taking a step forward. He tried to lunge toward the bed, but Dominic stood up instantly, blocking his path with effortless physical dominance. Grant stopped dead, glaring up at Dominic with pure venom. “Move, Moretti. That’s my wife—my ex-wife—and that’s—that’s…”
Grant choked on the words, staring at the tiny bundle in my arms. The realization seemed to hit him like a physical blow.
“Your child?” Dominic finished for him, his voice dripping with ice. “Careful, Grant. Your vocabulary is failing you again. Just like your medical reports did three years ago.”
Grant’s face flushed a violent shade of crimson. “That’s impossible! She cheated! She had to have cheated—she was barren! The doctors told us—”
“The doctors told you what you paid them to tell you, or rather, what you were too fragile to admit,” I interrupted, my voice cutting through the room like a scalpel. I sat up straighter against the pillows. “When we divorced, your ego couldn't handle the truth that the Kingsley bloodline would end with you. So you paid off our fertility specialist to shift the blame onto me. You destroyed my reputation, you turned our friends against me, and you told half of Manhattan I was broken.”
Arthur closed his eyes in defeat. He already knew. The old man had likely seen the leaked medical files before he even stepped foot in the hospital.
“Claire,” Arthur said, his voice shaking slightly as he addressed me. “Please. Let’s not wash our dirty laundry in public. The stock price of Kingsley Industries dropped twelve percent in the last three hours. Our board is calling an emergency meeting for tomorrow morning. If the press finds out about… about this child, and whose name is attached to her birth certificate—”
“Whose name is attached to the birth certificate, Arthur?” I asked sweetly.
Arthur flinched.
Grant stared at me, his chest heaving. “Who is the father, Claire? Tell me right now! Is it Moretti? Did you screw my business rival while we were still married?”
“Watch your mouth,” Dominic warned, taking a slow step toward Grant. The air in the room grew heavy, suffocating. “You are speaking to the mother of my child, in a room you have no right to occupy.”
Grant froze. The color drained completely from his face. He looked from Dominic to me, and then down at the baby.
“Your… your child?” Grant whispered, horror dawning in his eyes. “You and Moretti… were you—?”
“We didn't cross any lines until the ink on our divorce papers was dry, Grant,” I said coldly. “Unlike you and Sienna, some of us actually respect boundaries. But as for Chloe? Dominic has been here for every ultrasound, every contraction, and every tear you caused. He is more of a father to her than you could ever dream of being.”
Grant let out a pathetic, broken sound, staggering back until his shoulders hit the wall.
Arthur grabbed his son's arm. “We’re leaving,” the old man muttered, bowing his head in a silent concession of total defeat. “Grant... it’s over. We lost.”
As the two men retreated from the room, the heavy hospital door clicking shut behind them, I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for three agonizing years.
Dominic sat back down beside me, taking my hand in his. His thumb stroked my knuckles.
“They’re going to fight us in court, you know,” Dominic said softly. “Kingsley Industries still has deep pockets.”
May you like
I looked down at Chloe, who yawned and curled her tiny fingers tighter. I wasn't afraid anymore.
“Let them try,” I whispered. “We have everything we need.”
