The Battle Line Is Drawn.

The next day

The envelope sat on the console like it belonged there. Pale. Official. Heavy with something she didn’t want to name.

Alessia stared at it for too long. Her fingers wouldn’t move. It reminded her of the cease-and-desist letters she used to prep for clients back when she still worked corporate law. Back before Roman. Before the baby. Back when people sent threats on letterhead and called it business.

But this wasn’t business, this was her name and this was her child. She peeled it open with careful hands. Like it might bite. Her eyes ran across the first line.

Petition for Sole Custody. Immediate Motion for Paternity Establishment. Filed by: Roman Velez.

The room tilted slightly, her stomach turned but there was no warning. No call, no email. Just a demand, typed in black and white, to prove that the baby inside her belonged to him... and then to hand the baby over.

Her body, her child, gone, just like that. Roman always did this, he would act and not care how she felt, she was a pawn and now she is just body building and raising his child.

The letter slipped from her fingers, her fingers danced and shook from fear, this was her life now. Running from Roman.

Zane came in through the side door, tossing his phone on the counter. His eyes found her immediately, and he saw the paper. The way her hands trembled.

He walked over slowly, picked it up, there was silence.

He read it once and then again. He folded it with exacting care and tucked it back into the envelope. He looked up. His voice was quiet.

“He’s not getting this child. Not while I’m here.”

Alessia didn’t speak, she couldn’t. Her mouth was dry.

Zane reached for her hand. “Hey,” he said, low, steady.

“He can file whatever he wants. That doesn’t mean he wins.”

But she wasn’t thinking about Roman winning.

She was thinking about the way he didn’t even ask. How he didn’t come to her. Just went straight to court. Like she was the enemy. Like she was a stranger.

She nodded slowly, but something in her chest broke clean.

Roman stood frozen in front of the windows, the city lights stretching endlessly beneath him. But he didn’t see any of it.

His jaw clenched, breath shallow, fists curled at his sides. The letter from the court lay on his desk—creased, torn, stained by the wine he’d thrown at the wall minutes ago.

She’d really done it. Let another man claim the child. Let Zane step into the space Roman had vacated.

But it wasn’t betrayal he tasted. It was fear.

******

Behind him, Tatiana moved like smoke, slow and precise. She perched on the corner of his desk, her dark hair pulled back, her dress flawless. The only thing out of place in the room was him.

“She’s in danger,” Roman said, voice low. Raw. “She doesn’t even know it.”

Tatiana raised a brow. “You think Zane is the threat?”

“I know who Zane is,” he snapped. “But it’s not just him.”

He turned, eyes bloodshot. “There are people watching her, watching the child. I tried to stay away to keep her safe and to keep them both out of it.”

“And how’s that working out?” Tatiana said coolly. “She’s posted up in another man’s estate. And now the press is circling.”

“I tried to make her stay quiet,” Roman muttered.

“I warned her not to draw attention. But she’s stubborn. She always has been.”

Tatiana leaned forward, voice softer. “So what are you going to do now?”

Roman stepped closer to the desk, his shadow casting over hers. “I’m going to take back what’s mine. And if Zane or anyone else thinks they can stop me…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

The rage wasn’t just anger. It was grief. Obsession. The kind that came from loving someone so much, you’d do anything to shield them, even lie. Even disappear. Even break them a little if it meant saving their life.

But the clock had run out. He couldn’t protect Alessia from the shadows anymore. And this time, she wouldn’t get the choice.

****

The estate should have been untouchable. But someone had breached it with a photo.

It spread like wildfire: a hazy shot of Zane Wolfe’s private northern gate, and just behind it, a woman with long dark hair in a flowy robe.

Alessia Wolfe. Confirmed.

“Who the fuck took that picture?” Zane slammed his palm on the conference table. His PR team flinched.

“We told everyone, no phones. No leaks.”

His chief of staff muttered, “It wasn’t from inside the house. The angle’s from outside the fence. But it had to be someone who knew where to look.”

Chase didn’t speak. He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, calm. Composed.

Zane turned to him. “You’re quiet.”

Chase offered a tight smile. “I’ve flagged the IPs circulating the image. I’ve got someone working on the takedown.”

Zane’s jaw ticked. “Make it disappear. And find out who’s whispering directions to paparazzi.”

He left in a storm.

Later that night, Chase opened the door to his guest suite. Dim light filtered through the windows. On the bed, she lay sprawled, wearing only his shirt—half-buttoned, legs bare, hair wild.

She grinned. “So… did it work?”

“You tell me.” He walked toward her, shrugging off his blazer. “It’s all anyone’s talking about.”

She tugged him down by his tie.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy watching Zane lose it.”

“I did.” He kissed her, slow and greedy. Hands buried in her hair. Her laugh was soft against his mouth.

Clothes scattered to the floor, the sheets tangling with their limbs. For a few moments, the scandal outside the gates vanished. Only heat remained.

Chase and Lisa hid their relationship for years now, from the secret meetings to the secret times when they fucked, they had their love behind the shadows.

But now, they get to see each other more. They get to sneak easily, they get to be themselves without any problem.