chapter 38

THEA

I think I’m going to throw up.

Three days of court. Three days of Sebastian playing the perfect father. Three days of Sebastian's smug lawyer calling me “emotionally volatile” while the judge barely conceals his bias. Three days of watching Sebastian flash me that charming deceitful smile like it's the weapon forged against me.

And I’m losing.

Not because I’m unfit. Not because I don’t love Finn. But because the system was never built for women like me.

Women who work.

Women who are angry.

Women who walk away.

I grip the steering wheel harder. My fingers are shaking, but I don’t cry. There’s no time for that anymore.

Finn asked me to fight for him.

He looked me in the eyes and said, “I want to come with you, Mum.”

I keep hearing his voice in my head. Over and over. And every time the judge sides with Sebastian, every time I hear those twisted lies, it chips away at me.

I promised him I would bring him home.

He's giving me a second chance even after I gave up on him and left.

But I’m not winning.

I reach for my phone with shaky hands and stare at the screen. Ezra’s name is still there. I saved it. Stupid. Or maybe not.

He’s dangerous.

He told me the truth, finally. That he’s not like us. That he’s something else. Something darker.

And yeah, it scared the shit out of me.

After he left, I browsed the web to know what a vampire is and shit, it was terrifying. Red eyes, fingernails dripping with blood. I'd exited the tab while screaming.

But Ezra didn’t hurt me. Not when I was drunk. Not when I was vulnerable. Not when I didn’t know who—what—he was.

He could have done anything.

He didn’t.

And now I need him.

God, I hate that I need him.

But I can’t lose Finn.

Not after he gave me a second chance.

I close my eyes. My thumb hovers over the call button.

My brain is screaming don’t. But my heart? My heart's already dialing.

“Fuck it,” I mutter.

And I press call.

The phone rings once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

Right when I’m about to hang up, he answers.

“Hello.” Comes his low deep voice. I inhale a shuddering breath, electricity shooting straight to my core.

Guess I'm not only an emotional mess, but a horny one too.

It’s not even his personal number—it’s the office line. Of course it is. He’s making me come to him, on his terms. God, I hate that I noticed that.

I don’t say anything.

Not right away.

My throat tightens, like speaking this out loud makes it all real. Like saying his name again might wake the part of me that still remembers his eyes glowing red, that loves the darkness surrounding his rough edges.

But he waits. Patient. Silent.

Smug bastard.

“It’s me,” I say finally. My voice sounds... Small. Not like me.

There’s a pause.

Then—

“I know.”

“Ms. Carlisle,” He says smoothly, like he’s been expecting my call since the moment he drove away, leaving me standing by that park for minutes that felt like hours. Like he knows exactly what this means. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I…” 

My breath catches.

I gulp, attempting to speak again, but no words come out.

“How can I help you, sugarplum?” He repeats.

There it is. The nickname. The loaded tone. The smugness dripping from every syllable, like this is some game and I just made the first move.

“You know why I’m calling,” I snap before I can stop myself. “Don’t act like you don’t.”

I hate how fast my emotions spike. But I’ve been keeping it together for days, and now I’m running on fumes. And he—he sounds like this is fun for him.

Another beat of silence.

Then, a low chuckle. “Touché.”

I grip the steering wheel tighter with my free hand, trying to shove the panic down.

He has what I need.

And that terrifies me.

Because needing Ezra Harrington is like needing poison to survive.

But I can’t lose my son.

I won’t.

Not even if it means dancing with the devil.

Maybe if I don't win Finn's custody back now, the next news I might hear from Sebastian will be how he accidentally lost his life from neglect.

“Fucker.” I curse, gritting my teeth.

He chuckles. “You always this cranky when asking for favors?” he drawls, voice lazy, like he’s reclined on some throne, not sitting behind a desk built on definitely blood and billion-dollar contracts.

“It’s not a favor,” I bite out. “It’s business.”

“Oh?” He sounds amused. “Didn’t realize begging was now considered a business model.”

My jaw clenches.

“I’m not begging.”

“Okay, corporate begging then. You called me.”

I swear I can see his smirk through the phone.

I rub a hand over my face, already regretting this. But I’m too far gone to back out now.

“I need your… help,” I say, voice lower this time. “But I’m not selling myself for it.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Shame. That was my favorite part of the deal.”

God, he’s infuriating.

And yet…

There’s a sick part of me—some bruised, pathetic thing buried under layers of hurt—that finds comfort in how predictable he is. Twisted, possessive, cocky. But consistent.

“Do you even care that I’m losing him?” I ask suddenly. The words escape before I can think.

Ezra goes quiet. Just for a second.

Then, softer, “You’re not losing him. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

My throat tightens. I hate how much I need to believe him. I hate that I believe him at all.

“So what now?” I ask.

There's silence at first before he replies, “I'll be with you during the next proceeding.”

“The next is in two hours.” I say in desperation.

He clicks his tongue, “So this isn't just an emergency corporate begging anymore. You are also indirectly making it uncomfortable.”

The moral human in me wants to apologize for inconvenienting him but I remember how he stormed into my office and forcefully dragged me to the event that ruined everything.

“Be here in an hour max, Ezra.” I say before cutting the call.

Wrong move. I know.

I drop the phone and place my hand against my chest, tears prickling me lids, hoping upon all hope that he won't mind the power move I was trying to pull off at the end and just come and help me even though I don't know how he intended to do that.