Chapter 3

Vincent confined me to the east wing—a suite of blue silk walls, antique mirrors, and locked French doors overlooking the winter garden—as though I were still nineteen and willing to mistake his control for attention.

At midnight, Marta brought dinner on a silver tray.

The soup arrived in white porcelain, prepared with exactly the amount of salt my doctor allowed. My medication rested in a small silver dish beside a cut-crystal glass of warm water, and a cashmere blanket lay folded at the foot of the bed.

Vincent remembered every detail of my recovery.

He simply did not trust me.

I took my medication and called the hotel manager on his private line.

“This is Sophia Moreau. Send me the security recordings from the front desk, elevators, and east corridor during tonight’s christening.”

He did not ask for authorization. The recordings arrived within half an hour.

The first recording showed an employee placing the guardian angel medal and education fund documents inside the box before sealing it in front of me.

I never touched it again.

The corridor camera showed Isabella taking the box while Vincent spoke to several guests. She carried it toward a floral arrangement, pulled out a piece of dried lavender, and slipped it beneath the documents.

Then she returned the box to Noah’s crib.

I watched the recording twice before sending it to Vincent with one message.

The evidence is attached. Have my passport ready by morning.

The message was delivered.

He did not open it.

According to Marta, Vincent had returned to the private clinic because Noah was still under observation.

The next morning, one of his guards appeared at my door.

“The Don wants you in his office.”

“Good. He has something that belongs to me.”

I walked past the guard without waiting to be escorted.

Vincent stood behind his desk when I entered. My passport and car keys lay in front of him.

Isabella sat on the opposite sofa, her face pale and swollen from crying. She clasped both hands in her lap, looking smaller than ever.

“I watched the recordings,” Vincent said.

“I assumed you would eventually.”

His jaw tightened before he turned to Isabella.

“Tell her the truth.”

Isabella’s lips trembled.

“I never meant for Noah to get hurt.”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Vincent said.

His voice remained quiet, but Isabella flinched.

She looked at me.

“I put the lavender inside the box.”

I crossed the room and stopped in front of her.

“Look at me when you explain why you endangered your own child.”

Her eyes lifted reluctantly.

“I was afraid.” Tears gathered in them. “Sophia had just awakened, and everyone told me what she used to be like. I thought if Vincent believed you hated Noah, he would keep you away from us.”

“You weren’t afraid of me. You were afraid he would choose me.”

“I thought Vincent would find the petal before Noah touched the gift. I didn’t know he would react so badly.”

Vincent’s face turned cold.

“You used my son to manipulate me.”

“I was trying to protect him.”

“No. You were trying to control me.”

Isabella began to cry harder.

“I’m sorry. I know what I did was wrong, but I was terrified. Sophia is your wife. I have no name, no position, and nowhere else to go. If she asks you to send us away, what will happen to Noah?”

Vincent said nothing for several seconds.

Then he spoke to the guard beside the door.

“From this moment on, Isabella is not to be left alone with Noah. A nurse and an armed guard will remain with them at all times.”

Her head snapped up.

“Vincent—”

He looked at her. She immediately fell silent.

“You used my son against me once. If it happens again, you will lose more than my protection.”

“But you’re not sending us away, are you?”

Vincent’s expression did not soften.

“No. Noah needs his mother, and you are still recovering.”

Relief spread across Isabella’s face.

She had admitted using their son to frame me, yet Vincent immediately assured her that she could stay.

Vincent turned to me.

“You were telling the truth.”

“I usually am.”

His jaw tightened.

“I should have waited for the recordings.”

He picked up my passport and car keys.

“I made the decision based on what I knew.”

“You made the decision you wanted to make. The evidence merely proved you chose the wrong woman to punish.”

“I know what you do when you’re hurt.”

“You knew the woman I was three years ago.”

His gaze held mine.

“You broke windows, destroyed rooms, and started wars with anyone who looked at me for too long. Was I supposed to believe you calmly accepted another woman and my child overnight?”

“You could have believed I wouldn’t hurt a baby.”

Vincent had no answer.

He came around the desk, turning my passport once between his ringed fingers. The gold Moreau crest on his signet ring caught the lamplight.

“I was wrong about the gift.”

“Only the gift?”

His expression hardened slightly.

“Isabella is Noah’s mother. She will remain under my protection, but she will never replace you.”

“You keep talking about my position as though I’m asking for a chair at the table.”

“You are my wife, Sophia. Your position has not changed.”

“What are you asking for?”

Once, I would have asked him to send Isabella away, return the Moreau necklace to me, and choose me in front of everyone.

Now there was nothing left to ask for.

“Nothing.”

Vincent studied me.

“You’re still angry.”

“If I still wanted something from you, you would know.”

Only then did he hold out my passport and keys. When I reached for them, his ringed fingers remained closed around the black leather case.

“You’ll return to our room tonight.”

“No.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

I pulled the passport from his hand.

“Neither was my answer.”

Behind us, Isabella wiped her tears.

“Vincent, I’m feeling dizzy.”

His attention shifted toward her immediately.

That single movement was answer enough.

I slipped my passport into my bag.

“She called. Go.”

Then I walked out before he could decide whether to obey me.

Six days until my departure.