Boy Toy

The room fell into a heavy, expectant silence. All eyes darted between each other, confusion etched into every face, before landing on Zara, who sat stunned, staring up at the man standing before her.

Nathaniel Hawke.

One of the most powerful private lawyers in New York. Co-partner of the renowned Blackthorne and Hawke law firm, and a three-time award-winning litigator.

Even though they were just meeting for the first time, Nathaniel seemed to know exactly whom he had come to represent as he bent down and offered her a hand.

Zara hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. But there was no malice in Nathaniel’s eyes. Only clarity and determination.

Slowly, she gave him her trembling hand. He pulled her up with surprising gentleness and helped her sit back in her wheelchair.

Leaning close, he whispered so only she could hear, “I see it wasn’t such a lovely birthday yesterday.”

Her breath caught, her eyes widening. ‘How does he know?’

But before she could ask, Nathaniel straightened and turned toward the others. His presence seemed to fill the room, commanding attention without even trying. He reached into his sleek leather briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers, holding them out to Ethan.

“Here’s the original copy of the divorce agreement my client signed during the talk show,” Nathaniel announced, his tone professional but cutting.

The silence in the room deepened. Beatrice’s face turned red with fury, while Clement’s brows furrowed, betraying a flicker of unease before he masked it behind his usual stoic demeanor. Ethan, however, was visibly caught off guard.

“Nathaniel Hawke?” Ethan asked, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes darted to Zara, then back to Nathaniel. “How—how do you even know my wife?”

Zara’s gaze remained fixed on Nathaniel, studying him closely. His sharp amber eyes, short brown hair, and deliberate composure made him an imposing figure, but he wasn’t the one she’d hoped for. Her heart sank a little as she realized this wasn’t the masked man who had saved her on the bridge. The stranger’s shoulders had been broader.

This only confirmed her suspicion that Zavier was behind the masked man, because he was the only one that knew where she lived.

And she had guessed right. Nathaniel was indeed sent by Zavier since he was his company's legal counsel.

Ethan noticed Zara was getting the upper hand and intervened again, “Are you even the real Mr. Hawke? Because there is no way Zara will know someone like—”

“He is Nathaniel Hawke.” Irene said in an audible whisper, but Nathaniel, unbothered, slipped his complimentary card from his pocket and handed it to Ethan.

“Feel free to verify it,” Nathaniel said with a disarming smile.

Clement’s fingers tightened around the custody papers, his jaw clenching. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Mr. Hawke,” he said coolly. “We’ll see if these documents hold up under scrutiny.”

Nathaniel’s smile didn’t falter. “The law is clear, Mr. Campbell. But if you’d prefer to air this dispute in court, I’d be happy to arrange it—right before the elections, of course.”

“For now, we will be leaving with the children.” He added, letting the words hang in the air.

“No! Not my grandchildren! I won’t let this useless girl take them away!” Beatrice screamed, charging toward Nathaniel.

Before she could reach him, Clement’s hand shot out, gripping her arm with surprising force. “Behave!” he hissed, his tone sharp enough to freeze her mid-step.

Beatrice’s fury was palpable, but she reluctantly backed down, her glare boring into Zara.

Zara exhaled shakily, her confidence returning now that Nathaniel was in control. Turning to Mary, the children’s nanny, she gave clear instructions. “Pack their things and bring them downstairs. Tell them we are going on a vacation.”

Mary nodded and hurried out of the room.

The tension in the air was suffocating as everyone waited in silence. Only Irene seemed to relish the moment, her smug smile hinting at her satisfaction. She didn’t want Ethan with his children. She only wanted him—free and unburdened.

Zara caught Ethan’s seething gaze and, for the first time in years, smiled brightly, almost mockingly. “Ethan, if you want your kids to remember you as a great dad, you should take your family outside and disperse the crowd.”

The words landed like a slap. Ethan’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides, but Clement, sensing further humiliation, threw the papers onto the coffee table and stormed out.

Beatrice followed, her parting words laced with venom. “You’ll pay for this, Zara. I promise, you’ll pay dearly.”

Zara didn’t flinch. She had heard enough threats to last a lifetime.

Ethan, however, wasn’t done. As Mary returned with the twins, Ethan’s face softened into a mask of fake warmth. He crouched to their level, greeting them with a wide smile. “Papa’s here, Ella, Ezra. Are you ready for your vacation?”

Zara’s stomach churned as she watched him manipulate their innocence, but she wouldn’t let him win.

“Papa isn’t coming with us, sweetheart,” Zara interjected gently, running her hand over Ella’s curls. “He has important work to do with Auntie Irene.”

Ella’s lips curled into a pout, but she didn’t question it. Ezra, however, tugged on Zara’s sleeve, his small fingers curling tightly. “Mama, your eyes are puffy. Did you cry?”

Zara crouched, patting his hair. “It’s nothing, sweetheart,” she murmured, forcing a smile. “Mama just got caught in the rain last night.”

Nathaniel stepped in, guiding Mary and the children out. “I’ll take them to the car. Everything’s ready.”

Zara nodded, relief washing over her. But just as she was about to exit the gate, Irene’s voice sliced through the air.

“Not so fast, Zara!”

Zara froze, turning slowly to face Irene, who stood with her hands on her hips, an evil smirk stretching across her face.

“Oh, Zara, don’t forget Ethan’s ring. It’s not yours anymore. I wouldn’t want you pawning it to fund your pity party.”

Zara twisted the ring off her finger with a calm, almost detached motion, her eyes never leaving Irene’s. “Take it. It suits you—cheap and hollow.”

Irene smirked as she stepped closer, her voice low and venomous. Leaning in, she whispered, “Since you’re leaving anyway, I thought you should know. Ethan was the ‘Boy Toy’ in college.”

Zara’s grip tightened on the chair, her knuckles paling as the weight of Irene’s words hit her like a freight train. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “What?” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Irene’s grin deepened, triumphant, as she turned and walked away, leaving Zara reeling from the revelation.

They had been hooking up—her husband and Irene—long before the marriage, back when the three of them shared an apartment in college.

Indeed, she was the third party in the relationship all along.

But Ethan, unaware of the ladies' conversations, crossed his arms, his voice dripping with false charm. “I hope you enjoy your freedom, Zara. I gave you everything—this house, the kids’ lifestyle, even your chair. I built your life. Let’s see how you manage without it.”

Zara stood, her legs trembling but her resolve firm. Until now, she didn’t think Ethan could go so low as to demand the wheelchair. “You didn’t build me, Ethan. And you’ll see exactly how I manage.”

“I pray you find a reason to use this soon enough,” she added, pushing the chair out of her way.

But before she could take a step, she froze. Standing just beyond the doorway was a man—a figure with a neat crew cut and piercing eyes that made Ethan visibly shrink.

Zara’s breath caught. She hadn’t seen him in years, and this wasn’t how she wanted to reunite.

The man strode forward, his presence commanding. Without a word, he swept her into his arms, cradling her as though she weighed nothing.

Zara’s arms instinctively wrapped around him as her tears spilled freely, her heart pounding with a mix of relief and dread.

His voice, low and lethal. “Don’t worry, Zara. I’ll make sure he regrets every moment of this.”

Ethan scratched the back of his head, confusion edged in his face as he mumbled, “Why does that face look awfully familiar? Has she been cheating behind my back?”

Before he could say another word of protest, the Rolls Royce sped away, leaving him shocked and confused.