When My Husband Chose His Golden Boy, I Chose His Worst Enemy

I followed. He drove us through the night roads, the rain streaking against the windows, until we reached the private airport. My heart was pounding when my phone rang. Clinton.

Clinton’s voice came through, sharp and irritated. “Where the hell are you, Savannah? Get here now. Tyler’s banquet is about to start. I want you to serve food. Do not bring Clyde. He will only ruin the mood.”

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

Then Astrid’s voice floated in, sweet and venomous, dripping poison right into my ear. “Come now, Savannah. You will miss all the fun. Thank you so much, babe, for giving the best birthday for our little boy Tyler.”

My throat tightened. My hand shook but I pressed the phone tighter to my ear. Clinton chuckled low. “Anything for you, babe, and Tyler—”

“Happy divorce, Clinton. Go to hell, you motherfucker.”

I ended the call before he could breathe another word and hurled the phone out into the night rain. It shattered against the wet asphalt, sparks of screen lighting the dark for a split second.

The silence after was thick. Then Troy let out a low whistle, his mouth curling into a grin. “Well, well. Look at you, sweetheart. Finally showing some claws. Rafael will like that side of you.”

My chest was heaving, my hands trembling, but Clyde’s small body was warm against me. I held him tighter and turned away from Troy’s amused eyes.

The car slowed, tires crunching against the private runway pavement. Ahead, the jet gleamed under floodlights, sharp and cold against the rain. My legs felt like stone as Troy opened the door for me.

“Time to meet your savior,” he murmured, that smile never leaving his lips.

I clutched Clyde and forced myself to climb the steps. The air smelled like steel and jet fuel, and my knees nearly buckled as I stepped inside.

He was there. Rafael.

Sharper than I remembered, colder, deadlier. His suit dark, his eyes darker, a man carved from ice and shadow. He didn’t move, didn’t blink. He only looked at me.

“R-Rafael…” My voice cracked.

The corner of his mouth twitched, though not into a smile. His voice was low, steady, merciless. “You’re finally here.”

***

CLINTON'S POV

Astrid leaned in, her perfume wrapping around me like silk. Her voice was soft, almost scolding. “Don’t ruin the night, Clinton. Savannah is only jealous. You know how she is. If you get angry, she wins. Let her stew in her little corner while I stand by your side.”

I smirked, stroking her wrist where Tyler couldn’t see. “You always know how to soothe me. She is nothing. Look at you. Look at Tyler. This is the real family.”

Her lashes lowered, her smile sweet. “Exactly, babe. Everyone sees it. Savannah can scream and sulk, but she is powerless. Tonight belongs to us.”

And she was right. By the time we went home, my chest was swollen with pride. Untouchable. My enemies feared me, my partners envied me, my mistress worshipped me, and my son carried my name like a crown.

The second we stepped into the villa, I barked, “Coffee. Now.”

The maids froze. I clicked my tongue. “Where the hell is Savannah? Tell her to come down. I don’t care if it is midnight.”

One maid finally stepped forward, bowing so low her voice trembled. “Mrs. Montclair is gone, sir. She left with young master Clyde. A man came to fetch her.”

I blinked, waiting for her to correct herself. Then the words sank in. My jaw tightened, the world roaring in my ears. “What did you just say?”

She repeated it, softer this time, as if afraid to breathe.

I slapped her so hard she hit the wall. “And you let me stand there at the banquet like a fool, not knowing she ran off? You worthless dog!”

Tyler gasped behind me, and Astrid’s hand curled around my arm. Her voice was honey and silk, pretending to soothe. “Clinton, not in front of Tyler. He is watching. He does not need to see you like this.”

I turned to my boy, his big eyes wet with confusion. My fury twisted, choking me, but Astrid was right. “Fine. Take him to bed. Now.”

She smiled, all tender sweetness for the child. “Come, baby, let’s go upstairs. Mama Astrid will read you a story.”

I waited until they disappeared before I roared, “Bring me the security team!”

The monitors flickered in the study. And there she was. Savannah. Walking out of my gates like she owned them, Clyde in her arms, three tall bastards in black surrounding her like soldiers. Calm. Deliberate. Not a trace of fear.

My fist went straight through the screen. Glass shattered, sparks lit my knuckles. “Savannah!”

I stormed to the vault, my laughter hollow, mocking myself. “She could never know the code. Never. She is too weak. Too stupid.”

But the moment I turned the dial and pulled open the steel, my world stopped.