My heart raced as I confronted Roman, my voice trembling with anger. "Don't play games with me, Roman. I know you took them. You have no right—no right—to pick them up without my permission."
The line went silent for a moment, and I could almost hear the smirk spreading across his face.
"Ruby," Roman drawled, his tone dripping with amusement, "I don't have the kids. In fact, I don't even know where their school is."
My grip on the phone tightened, frustration coursing through my veins. How dare he pretend to be innocent?
“You and I both know that’s not true. You can find out anything you want. And I saw your car, Roman—I saw you put them in it.”
“That could have been anyone,” he countered smoothly. “You know there are plenty of black BMWs around.”
“It was you, Roman,” I snapped. “And don’t tell me it was a coincidence you were wearing the exact same clothes you had on earlier.”
There was a small, amused silence on the other end, and when he finally spoke, his tone was carried a hint o
