LOGINLENA
The silence after they took the baby was unbearable.
I could still feel the weight of that tiny body in my arms, the warmth fading far too quickly. The sound of machines and rushed voices replayed in my head, tearing through the fragile moment of joy we’d had.
“They’ll take care of the baby,” Roman said beside me, his voice steady, but I could feel the tension in it, the cracks beneath. His hand tightened around mine, anchoring me when I thought I’d float away on the panic.
I stared at the door they’d taken our child through, my heart breaking open. “Roman… what if—”
“Don’t.” His voice cut in, sharp. He turned my face toward his with a firm hand, his eyes blazing with something fierce. “Don’t finish that thought. Our baby is strong. Just like you. Do you hear me?”
Tears blurred my vision, spilling freely down my cheeks. “They’re so small…”
“I know.” His voice broke, just slightly, before he pressed his forehead to mine. “But smal
LENA The door creaked open under Roman’s hand, and for one terrifying heartbeat, I felt like my soul was hanging in the air.But the room was empty.Completely. Perfectly. Undisturbed.Except…Benjamin and Nataniel were crying so hard their little bodies shook. Their faces were red, their hands curled into tiny fists, both of them screaming like something frightened them moments before we arrived.Roman moved fast—too fast—crossing the room with long strides. He went straight to the crib, scooping both twins into his arms as if he could shield them with his entire body.I stood frozen at the doorway for a second. Not because I was afraid someone would jump out—there was no one here. No shadows in the corners. No curtains shifting. No movement.It was the feeling.The wrongness.The silent heaviness in the room that made my skin crawl.I forced myself forward, touching Benjamin’s back to soothe him. “Shh… sweetheart, Mommy’s here.”But their cries didn’t soften. If anything, they grew
LENAI didn’t even realize I’d stopped breathing until the air rushed out of my lungs all at once.Because standing in my doorway…In my home…After all these years…Was him.My ex.The one person I was sure I’d never see again.The one chapter of my past I thought I’d closed, locked, and buried forever.His name slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.A whisper.A ghost.A memory I didn’t want resurrected.He looked older.Rougher.Different in ways I couldn’t immediately understand.Like life had taken him, shaken him, and spit him back out.But his eyes—his eyes were the same.Full of guilt.Full of regret.Like he’d carried the weight of what happened between us for years.“Lena,” he breathed, voice cracking. “I…I needed to see you.”Before I could form a single word, Roman was in front of me, stepping between us like a wall of steel.His voice dropped to something lethal.Cold.Sharp.“You have three seconds to step back,” Roman growled. “Or I will make you.”My ex lifted
LENA I didn’t sleep at all. Not even a minute. I kept staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft breaths of my three children across the baby monitor and the quiet, steady exhale of Roman sleeping beside me. Normally, the sound of his breathing calmed me. Tonight, it only made my stomach twist. Because after everything we had talked about—everything I confessed—I didn’t know where we stood. Or… where I stood. I kept hearing my own voice repeating the same words from yesterday. I’m scared. I’m overwhelmed. What if I’m not enough for all of this? For the twins, for Isabella, for him? And now maybe another baby? I didn’t know anymore if I had said too much or not enough. Roman had held me and reassured me, yes, but there was something unreadable in his eyes that I couldn’t shake. Like he wanted to say something but held himself back. And now here I was… wide awake, heart pounding, trying not to spiral. At some point, I must have moved because Roman’s voice broke through the
LENAWhen Roman finally returned from that back hallway of the Westbrook Hotel, his face was a shade I’d never seen before—somewhere between fury and exhaustion. The kind that told me he was fighting wars I couldn’t yet see.He didn’t say a word at first. Just took the folder from my hands, flipped through the pages with a controlled, almost cold precision, and then closed it again with a sigh that sounded like defeat.“Let’s go,” he said.His voice was tight. Commanding.But I didn’t move. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”“Lena, not here,” he muttered. “I mean it.”“Roman,” I snapped, surprising even myself with how sharp my tone came out. “You can’t keep saying that. You can’t keep walking away and expecting me to follow you like I don’t deserve to know what’s happening.”He stopped mid-step, jaw clenched. The silence between us stretched—tense and suffocating—until he turned back to face me.People in the lobby glanced our way, sensing the tension. Roman noticed, too, and m
LENAThe message wouldn’t stop replaying in my head. That photo — Roman in the lobby of the Westbrook Hotel, timestamped just an hour before dawn — felt like a knife twisting slowly in my chest.He had told me he was handling things. That I should trust him. That everything he did was to protect me and the kids. But if that was true, why was he meeting her there?Why was he lying to me?By the time the sun came up, I had already made up my mind.I wasn’t the kind of woman who waited in silence anymore. Not after everything I’d been through. Not after all the times I had been told to sit still, to let someone else fix it.No. Not this time.I dressed quietly, choosing something simple — black jeans, a cream sweater, and my hair tied back. I slipped my phone into my bag, kissed Isabella on the forehead as she played in her room, and whispered to the nanny that I’d be out for a few hours.I told myself I wasn’t going there to start a fight. I just needed the truth.The drive to the Westb
LENAI couldn’t stop staring at the photograph.It lay on the kitchen counter, the edges slightly curled, my face frozen in that unguarded moment — hair tied up, holding a cup of tea, standing by the living room window. I looked so normal. So unaware.And that handwriting—those precise, looping letters—felt deliberate. Personal.I wonder if he’s told you everything yet.My hands shook slightly as I folded the note back into the envelope. Every instinct in me screamed to call Roman, but something held me back. I didn’t want to sound paranoid, and I didn’t want him to think I was spying on him either. But most of all, I wanted to see how he would react when I showed him this.Because if Roman Wolfe was hiding something… I needed to see it in his eyes.By the time he got home that evening, my nerves were strung so tight I could barely sit still. I’d put the envelope on the counter exactly where he’d see it. I didn’t say a word when he walked in — I just watched him, quiet, waiting.He no







