My Ex Told Me to Abort—Then Met Our Daughter

"I am not saving you," I said, tapping the glowing screen of my phone where the forty-eight-hour timer continued to tick down. "I am saving your engineers and your patents. Sign the non-transfer agreement. No assets leave CrossTech without my signature."

Gideon scoffed, his gaze darting from the phone to the contract on the glass table. He grabbed the voting proxy document. "I do not answer to ghosts, Vivienne. And I do not hand over my company to a dead woman."

He tore the proxy straight down the middle and dropped the halves onto the floor.

I picked up the remote and turned on the wall-mounted television, tuning it to the financial news network. Then I pressed the intercom button on the desk phone.

"Felix," I said into the receiver. "Halt the second thirty-million-dollar tranche. Immediately."

"Understood, Ms. Hale," Felix replied through the speaker.

Gideon crossed his arms. "Empty threats."

Less than a minute later, a red breaking news banner flashed across the bottom of the TV screen: CROSSTECH CREDIT ALERT — MAJORITY FUNDING PAUSED.

Gideon stared at the television, his chest heaving. The color rushed out of his face.

"You faked your death just to set up this trap," Gideon said, his voice rising. "You colluded with Damian to ruin me out of spite. You planned this entire hostile takeover."

"I survived," I corrected him, stepping closer to the broken papers on the rug. "You are the one who refused to investigate the crash. You chose the easiest narrative so you could move Serena into my bedroom. Do not blame me for your convenience."

Damian stepped out of the shadows near the bathroom door. He tossed a thick stack of supply chain contracts next to the torn proxy. The heavy paper slapped hard against the glass table.

"Your three core production lines rely on Roth Dynamics patents," Damian said, his tone flat. "If you reject Ms. Hale's oversight, I pull those licenses. Twenty-four hundred of your employees will miss their payroll on Friday morning."

Gideon turned his attention to Damian. The veins in his neck bulged. He closed the distance between them in two long strides and lunged.

Gideon grabbed the collar of Damian's white dress shirt, twisting the crisp fabric in his fists. "Did you plan it all? Did you crash into her car just to hide her from me? You stole my wife to steal my company."

Damian did not raise his hands to defend himself. He just stared back, his expression bored. "You lost your company all on your own, Gideon."

I grabbed Gideon's wrist. I dug my fingernails into his pulse point and shoved his arm downward, forcing him to release his grip.

"Anyone who throws a punch in my room loses their seat at the negotiation table," I said.

Gideon stumbled back, rubbing his wrist. He glared at Damian, then turned his fury on me. "Are you his property now? Is that how you bought his loyalty?"

"He saved my life," I said, pointing a finger at Gideon's chest. "He does not own me. And as for you, you surrendered every right to ask me questions the night you left me in the rain."

Before Gideon could issue a rebuttal, a sharp, hacking cough echoed from the hallway outside the penthouse door.

I turned away from the men. I yanked the heavy oak door open.

Naomi stood in the corridor, holding a small plastic inhaler. Lily huddled against her legs, rubbing her nose with the back of her small hand.

"She forgot her allergy spray in the car," Naomi said, extending the medication. "And she wouldn't stop crying for you."

I snatched the inhaler and pulled Lily inside, keeping her small frame safely tucked against my legs. I pushed the door shut behind Naomi.

Lily wiped her eyes, her gaze drifting past my hip. Her face lit up immediately.

"Daddy D!" Lily shouted.

She wriggled past me and ran straight to Damian. She held up a piece of crumpled construction paper. Three stick figures stood under a bright yellow sun.

Damian crouched down to her eye level. He took the drawing and slung her small pink backpack over his shoulder. He gently lifted her left arm, checking the tightness of her red peanut allergy wristband.

"You kept the band on," Damian said softly, adjusting the plastic clasp. "Good job, kid."

I looked at Gideon. His eyes were locked on Lily. He tracked the shade of her gray-green eyes, the exact shape of her jaw, the way she stood on her tiptoes. The arrogant fury melted off his face, leaving behind a pale, hollow shock.

"Who is that?" Gideon asked. His voice cracked, losing every ounce of its boardroom polish.

I stepped between them, shielding Lily from his line of sight. "She is my daughter."

"Who is the father?" Gideon demanded. He took a step forward, trying to peer around my shoulder.

Damian stood up and moved to my side. He did not say a word. He did not correct the title Lily had just yelled across the room. He simply crossed his arms, presenting a united, impenetrable front.

Gideon stared at the crayon drawing in Damian's hand. His upper lip curled into a bitter sneer.

"You moved on fast," Gideon said, his voice turning vicious. "Building a shiny new family right after they printed your obituary. How old is she, Vivienne? Tell me how old she is."

I kept my mouth shut. I simply stared him down, refusing to give him one number.

"Answer me," Gideon snapped. "If she is four years old, she is mine."

"You do not get to claim anything in this room," I said. "Not the company. Not me. And certainly not her."

Lily peeked out from behind my thigh. She looked at the strange man yelling, then reached up and tugged on Damian's sleeve.

"Daddy D," Lily said loudly, her clear voice cutting through the tense silence. "Let's go home."

Gideon tightened his fist around the remaining equity document in his left hand, pressing a deep, permanent crease straight through the heavy parchment.