Carrying His Heir, Plotting His Fall

The taller guard shoved me through the heavy oak doors. My knees hit the cold marble floor hard. I crumpled as the door clicked shut behind me, locking me inside with them again.

"Get up," the guard ordered from the hallway before the lock engaged.

I stayed on the floor, staring at the polished wood of Julian's desk.

Julian stood a few feet away. He pulled the zipper of his trousers up, the metallic teeth grinding in the quiet room.

He didn't even look at me as he fastened his gold cufflinks and smoothed the front of his silk shirt, checking his reflection in the dark window.

Finally he lowered his gaze. His eyes dragged over my slumped form. No pity. Only cold, clinical annoyance.

"Done crying, Victoria?" he asked.

I wiped a tear from my cheek, chest heaving. "You had them drag me back in here to mock me?"

"Look at yourself," Julian sneered, stepping closer. "Pale. Hysterical. You're a mess."

My hands instinctively moved to my flat stomach—a protective shield over a life he didn't care about. The marble chilled my bare legs, but the cold radiating from my husband was worse.

"Five years ago you had nothing," I choked out. "I handled every single one of your initial equity lawsuits. I fought off your investors. I gave up my senior partner track for your business!"

He walked to his humidor and pulled out a thick cigar.

"Now I'm pregnant with your child," I said, voice rising, pointing at the spot on the rug where they had just been.

"And you let her do that in your office!"

Julian clipped the end of the cigar, struck a match, and took a long drag. He blew a thick cloud of white smoke toward the ceiling.

"So what?" His tone was entirely flat.

I stared at the man I thought I knew. The man I married.

"You're just an out-of-touch housewife now," Julian continued, tapping ash into the crystal tray. "Do you understand the current capital market? Can you help me survive a hostile takeover or navigate a proxy fight?"

I pushed myself up onto my elbows. "I built the foundation you stand on. I wrote the contracts that made you rich!"

"You did your job," he shot back, voice rising. "And now you're useless to me. You sit at home and plan dinner parties. Even in bed you're like a stiff, boring nun."

Chloe stepped out from behind the desk. She had adjusted her skirt, though her blouse remained unbuttoned, showing off her lace bra. She walked right up to Julian and pressed her body against his side.

Julian wrapped a massive hand around her waist, pulling her flush against his hip. Chloe purred, leaning her head on his shoulder. Her manicured fingers traced small, teasing circles over his exposed chest.

"Julian needs a partner who actually understands his ambition," Chloe said, eyes locked on mine. "I secure his intelligence. I find the dirt on his rivals. I do whatever it takes to make him win."

"She's a weapon," Julian agreed, kissing the top of Chloe's blonde head. "She doesn't have your pathetic moral boundaries, Victoria. She gives me exactly what I want, exactly how I want it."

"Do you even know what a hostile takeover looks like anymore?" Julian mocked. "Last week, when I bought out the rival tech firm, Chloe was the one who blackmailed their CFO. She got on her knees in a hotel room to secure the audio recording I needed. What did you do that day, Victoria? Pick out new floral arrangements for the foyer?"

"You're disgusting," I whispered.

"I'm successful," he corrected.

"I funded your first startup with my own savings!" I yelled. "When the banks laughed at you, I mortgaged my apartment. I built you!"

"And I paid you back tenfold," he stated coldly. "You have a closet full of designer clothes and a driver on call. You lack nothing."

"I lack a husband," I spat.

Chloe laughed—a high, grating sound. "You lack a spine, honey. If you wanted to keep a man like Julian, you should have learned how to beg."

"Shut your mouth," I snapped.

"Make me," she challenged, stepping away from Julian and walking toward me. She stopped a foot away, looking down at me on the floor. "You think you're so superior because you have a ring on your finger. But I have his ear. I have his trust. I have his cock. That ring is just a piece of metal."

I lunged upward, aiming for her face.

Julian was faster. He stepped between us, large hand wrapping around my wrist. He twisted my arm just enough to send a sharp jolt of pain up my shoulder, forcing me back down to the marble.

"Don't touch her," Julian warned, eyes flashing with genuine anger.

"You defend her?" I gasped, clutching my aching wrist.

"She is vital to my company," Julian said. "You're only relevant right now because you're carrying my child, and I won't have a PR disaster before this merger."

Chloe's smile widened into a viper's grin. She craved his power, feeding off the cruel energy he radiated. She wanted my title. She wanted my life.

And I had handed it to them on a silver platter. I thought my sacrifices were saving him. I thought my devotion was his salvation. Instead I was just the concrete poured into the dirt so he could build his skyscraper.

Julian took another drag of his cigar. The smoke veiled his dark eyes.

"Listen to me very carefully, Victoria," he commanded, stepping forward. He towered over me, the toe of his expensive leather shoe inches from my fingers. "Since you are pregnant, you will have this child. The Kingsley family heir must be legitimate."

"I won't let you near my baby," I spat, glaring up at him.

Julian crouched down. He grabbed my chin, fingers digging into my jaw. "You don't have a choice. You will stay in the penthouse. You will play the happy, pregnant wife for the press. I'll increase your monthly allowance so you can buy whatever useless garbage you want."

I tried to jerk my head away, but his grip tightened.

"Put away the tears," he ordered, voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Drop this absurd moral purity. If you embarrass me in public or try to run to that rat Damian, I will destroy you. I will make sure you never see daylight, let alone this child."

He released my face with a rough shove. I caught myself on my palms, gasping.

"Take her to the car," Julian called to the guards waiting outside. "Make sure she goes straight home."

The doors swung open. The two massive men stepped in, grabbed me by the arms, and hauled me to my feet.

"You're making a mistake, Julian," I said, voice eerily calm despite the violent shaking in my hands.

"Take her away," he dismissed, turning his back and pulling Chloe into another kiss.

The guards dragged me out of the office and shoved me into the private elevator. The descent to the underground garage was suffocatingly silent. My mind raced. He had my money, my home, and now a security detail ready to lock me in a gilded cage.

They pushed me into the back of a black SUV. The locks clicked into place.

I stared out the tinted window as the city lights blurred past. Julian thought he had won. He thought stripping me of my career and threatening my unborn baby would break me into submission.

He forgot one thing.

Before I was his wife, I was the most ruthless litigator in Manhattan.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I carefully shielded the screen from the rearview mirror.

A text from an unknown number glowed in the darkness.

Damian: My car is trailing you. Get ready to jump at the next red light.

I looked up. The traffic light two blocks ahead flashed yellow, then solid red. The SUV began to slow. I slid my hand toward the door handle, heart hammering against my ribs.

The guard in the front passenger seat turned his head, eyes narrowing in the rearview mirror.

"Keep your hands where I can see them, Mrs. Kingsley," he grunted.

I met his gaze in the mirror and offered a cold, dead smile.

"I'm just getting comfortable," I replied.

The car rolled to a stop.

I yanked the handle.