7

RAINA

Was this even the right thing to do? The question hovered like a ghost as I adjusted my collar in the mirror. Dominic had insisted on me leading this project, not only because it would rile Alexander up—though that alone was enough reason—but because he believed it was time for me to take on something bigger, something that would challenge me.

But this challenge was personal. A test of my endurance, my determinaton, and perhaps even my heart. It was, after all, my first major project, and here I was, staring down the man who once shredded me in ways I never thought possible. The man who still haunted me, whose shadows clung to the darkest corners of my mind.

No. This time, I wasn’t here to fold. Today was about my son. Liam. It still shocked me he’d named the boy the very name we’d picked together, as though it were some token he kept for himself. I felt a swell of sadness, the bitter, familiar ache at my core, but I pushed it down. There was no room for weakness today. I was different now—stronger, maybe even fierce.

As I strode into the office, I felt every inch the woman I had fought to become, the woman who had risen from the ashes of Alexander Sullivan’s accusations. He stood across the room, rigid as always, and I felt the old urge to read his face, to search his expression. His dark eyes flicked toward me, an almost imperceptible flash of surprise there, gone as quickly as it came.

I took a slow breath, gathering every ounce of my composure. “Before we sign,” I said, watching him with a calm I’d perfected over years, “I have one condition.”

I felt Dominic's gaze shift toward me, an encouraging presence at my side, though I kept my own eyes locked on Alexander. I wouldn’t let myself look away, wouldn’t allow myself even a hint of doubt. Not here. Not with him.

“Oh?” His voice came out cool, indifferent. “And what might that be?”

I could sense the way he crossed his arms, a subtle defense, as though bracing himself against me. The irony made me almost smile, but I held my expression, my tone steady and firm. “I want to see my son,” I said, each word measured. There was no tremor, no hesitation. This wasn’t a request.

For a moment, his mask cracked, a flicker of something—surprise, maybe even irritation—broke through the iron in his gaze. But as quickly as it came, it vanished, replaced by a scowl, one that twisted his features into something harsh, almost cruel.

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, the sound sharp, nearly dismissive. “This is business, Raina. You’re here to negotiate a deal, not leverage personal matters.”

My pulse quickened, anger flaring at the cold edge to his voice. How typical of Alexander, to dismiss what he didn’t want to deal with, to sidestep anything he didn’t control. Before Dominic could step in, I squared my shoulders, feeling the confidence surge through me. You are different now. Stand your ground.

“Business or not,” I replied, my tone matching the steel in his, “I’m not the one who needs this deal as desperately as you do. And I can always change my mind about whether Dominic should even consider working with you at all.”

The look in his eyes darkened. He hated that I had leverage over him now, that I could stand here and dictate terms. For years, he’d been the one in control, the one pulling the strings. But not this time.

“What’s it going to be, Alexander?” I pressed, folding my arms as I waited. “Are you going to keep making this difficult, or are you going to agree to my terms?”

His jaw clenched, the muscles tightening as if he were forcing down a string of insults. I knew this must feel like betrayal to him, and yet, a part of me savored the moment. Finally, finally, I could feel some sense of justice.

He let out a sigh, an audible sign of surrender. “Fine,” he bit out, his voice dripping with frustration. “I’ll arrange a visitation agreement for you. You’ll get to see him.”

My chest tightened, though I managed to keep my face calm. This was a victory, however small, however begrudgingly he gave it. Still, there was something about the way he said it, like I was some inconvenience he had to tolerate. Like I was beneath him. And that familiar ache surfaced once more, the reminder of all he’d taken from me. But I didn’t let it show. I’d come too far to let his disdain hurt me now.

After we all signed the documents, Alexander shook hands with Dominic, but when he turned to me, I gave him only the coldest of glances. “Hurry up,” I said, turning on my heel. “I have other things to attend to.”

The audacity of it, the sharp intake of breath he tried to mask, almost made me laugh. This newfound confidence felt like a balm over old wounds, something I could carry forward.

Dominic caught up with me, whispering, “Are you sure about this?”

I smiled, faint but resolute. “Absolutely.”

 Dominic stood casting one last glance my way as if to say he trusted me to handle this on my own. And I did. I knew I could.

When Alexander caught up with me outside, he looked at me with a hint of disdain. “You’ll need to find your own way,” he said, his voice biting, a clear attempt to regain his upper hand. But before I could respond, my driver pulled up to the curb, and I let myself into the car with a serene smile, nodding at him as if he’d been dismissed.

“I’ll follow behind,” I said calmly.

The drive was short, yet with each passing moment, I felt my heart begin to race. My hands grew clammy, my mind whirling. Why were we headed this way? It wasn’t until we pulled up to the hospital’s entrance that the fear truly set in, icy and unrelenting.

“What’s the meaning of this?” I demanded, grabbing his arm as he stepped out, my voice a trembling whisper. It felt like betrayal all over again. He met my gaze, a flicker of something mocking glinting in his dark eyes.

“You wanted to see him, didn’t you?” His voice was infuriatingly calm, cold, and detached. “Then follow me.”

The sterile smell of antiseptic hit me as soon as we entered the hospital. Each step felt heavier than the last, my heart pounding so loudly it nearly drowned out everything else. I could feel Alexander’s presence beside me, unyielding, unfeeling. How could he be so unaffected?

Then we reached the room.

The sight that greeted me shattered whatever resolve I had left. There, lying so small and fragile on the hospital bed, was my son. My beautiful, precious Liam. A machine beeped softly beside him, tubes and wires connecting him to a source of life, and I felt my knees weaken, my heart twisting painfully in my chest.

I took a shaky step forward, tears already blurring my vision. hand trembling as I reached for him, even though I couldn’t bring myself to touch him. “Liam…” The whisper left my lips, barely audible, as if saying his name might break the spell and pull him from this nightmare.

“What…” My voice came out broken, barely a whisper. “What’s wrong with him?”

Alexander’s voice was a cold hiss in my ear. “You want to know what’s wrong with him? You. You’re what’s wrong. If you hadn’t disappeared, maybe he wouldn’t be lying here like this.” His words were like a slap, stinging, cutting deep. 

I felt anger rise up within me, hot and fierce, pushing through the sorrow and heartbreak. How dare he. “I am the reason? You’re the one who took him from me!” My voice shook, and I took a step back, my hands balling into fists. “You’re the one who deprived me of being his mother—of knowing him, of loving him. And now you want to stand there and act like I’m at fault?”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Spare me the theatrics, Raina. If you really wanted to be there for him, you wouldn’t have run off to God-knows-where with your—” he paused, his expression hardening, “—lover.”

I flinched, the accusation hitting harder than I’d expected. I wanted to scream, to tell him the truth, to make him understand. But I knew it would be useless; he’d already made up his mind. The man standing before me was nothing like the one I’d once loved. This man was bitter, cold, a stranger.

“So, what is it you want from me?” I demanded, my voice breaking despite my best efforts. 

He looked at me, his expression hard and unyielding. “I want you to do what you should have done years ago. Perform your motherly duty.” He stepped closer, his eyes dark and filled with contempt. “Donate your marrow to save him.”

His words were a command, harsh and unfeeling, and I felt the weight of it, the demand pressing down on me. But even more than the demand was the sheer arrogance of it, the expectation that I would simply comply without question.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Every word felt like a slap, a reminder of just how little he thought of me. It was almost enough to break me—almost.

I straightened, locking eyes with him, my voice steady and unwavering. “You have no right to ask me to fulfill any ‘duties’ now,” I said, each word a knife honed with years of pain. “You’re the one who took them from me. So don’t you dare stand there and accuse me of failing my son.”

I gripped the edge of the bed as I fought the overwhelming urge to lash out. How dare he stand here and cast judgment, as if he hadn’t been the one to cast me aside so easily? I turned toward him, my expression neutral, but inside I was anything but calm.

“You wanted to keep me out of his life,” I said quietly, watching the flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe even guilt. “You were the one who made sure I was gone, Alexander.”

He stiffened, the façade cracking for a brief moment. But I didn’t wait for his reply. I couldn’t bear any more of his arrogance or that look of disdain that always seemed to follow me like a shadow.

As I looked at my son, feeling the pang of longing, the years of absence, and the helplessness, one thought crystallized in my mind, sharp and clear as glass:

What right did he have to ask me to fulfill motherly duties when he was the one who stripped them from me?