He Brought His Mistress to My Ultrasound

"You orchestrated this entire thing," I said, my voice echoing off the concrete walls of the parking garage.

I stared past Dominic, fixing my gaze on the weeping girl in his backseat. Chloe shrank against the leather, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

"Get in the car, Serena," Dominic repeated. His hand still extended the black credit card.

"You paid Julian to forge that DNA test," I fired back, refusing to move a single inch. "You cornered his investments, drained his accounts, and then drove his mistress here just to trap me."

"I do not pay for forgeries," Dominic answered. He tapped the plastic edge of the card against the steering wheel. "Julian did that on his own. He panicked when he realized I bought up his debt. He needed a scapegoat."

"And you just happened to find his mistress and bring her to my doctor's appointment?" I asked.

"I track my investments," Dominic said, his tone entirely flat. "Chloe was a liability to his portfolio. I picked her up at the airport trying to flee the state. Now, are you going to stand in a puddle, or are we going to do business?"

I yanked the passenger door open and slid onto the leather seat. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing us inside.

The Maybach surged forward. The silence inside the cabin was absolute, save for Chloe's muffled sniffles from the back.

"Stop crying," I commanded, staring straight through the windshield.

Chloe choked on a sob. "Mrs. Vance, I swear I didn't know he was setting you up today. He just told me to wait in the car."

"You slept with my husband," I said, keeping my voice dangerously low. "You lived in an apartment paid for by my family's money. Do not speak to me."

Chloe shrank further into the shadows of the backseat.

"Drop her off," I told Dominic.

"Already handled," he replied.

He pulled the car out of the garage and merged onto the highway. Ten minutes later, he parked outside a sterile, high-end hotel downtown.

"Get out," Dominic ordered the girl.

Chloe scrambled out of the car like a frightened animal, fleeing through the glass revolving doors without a single backward glance.

Forty minutes after that, massive iron gates loomed in the darkness.

"Sterling Manor," I noted, reading the wrought-iron crest illuminated by the headlights. "I thought the Russo family operated out of the city."

"Russo is a business name," he answered, cutting the engine. "Sterling is my blood. And right now, you need blood."

We entered a cavernous study. Cold marble floors stretched wall to wall, chilling the air. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the perimeter, filled with leather-bound volumes that smelled of old paper and expensive cigars.

"Sit," he instructed, pointing to a high-backed leather chair opposite a massive mahogany desk.

I remained standing. "I have an emergency board meeting in less than ten hours. Tell me exactly what you want."

Dominic opened a desk drawer. He pulled out a thick stack of paper and tossed it onto the polished wood. It landed with a heavy thud.

"Fifty pages," he said. "A binding marriage contract."

"I am already married."

"Not for long," he countered. He leaned over the desk, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "Julian filed an emergency injunction against you twenty minutes ago. He claims you are mentally unfit to run the company due to pregnancy hormones."

My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands. "He did what?"

"He is moving fast," Dominic said, tapping the contract. "You need ten million dollars by eight o'clock tomorrow morning to keep your CEO seat. I will give you fifty million. I will shield you from the media circus Julian is about to unleash. I will crush him so thoroughly he will never step foot in a boardroom again."

"You expect me to marry the man who spent three years trying to bankrupt my firm?" I asked, a bitter laugh escaping my throat.

"I spent three years trying to bankrupt Julian," Dominic corrected. "You just happened to be standing next to him. Remove him from the equation, and our interests align perfectly."

"And your price?" I asked.

"The Thorne family internal financial passwords," Dominic stated.

My jaw tightened. "My maiden name is off-limits. The Thorne accounts hold the foundational assets of my empire. If I give you those passwords, you own the infrastructure of my entire company. My grandfather built those accounts."

"And your husband is currently trying to steal them," Dominic said smoothly. "I am offering you a partnership. Julian wants to steal your legacy. I want to merge ours. You give me the Thorne access codes, and I give you the ammunition to blow your husband's life apart."

"You want total control," I challenged.

"I want transparency," Dominic fired back. "Julian hid millions in offshore accounts using your signature. If I am going to fund your corporate war tomorrow morning, I need to know the Thorne vaults are secure from his interference."

I stared at the thick document resting on the desk.

"You set a trap for Julian, and now you are setting one for me," I said.

"I am offering you a weapon," Dominic replied. He picked up a gold fountain pen and held it out to me. "Take it."

I stepped closer to the desk. The sheer audacity of his demand hung heavy in the freezing room. He wanted the keys to my kingdom. He wanted the very thing Julian had tried and failed to steal from me for five years.

"If I give you the Thorne passwords, you answer to me regarding any withdrawals," I demanded.

"Agreed," Dominic said, not blinking.

"If Julian tries to contest the divorce, you bury him in litigation until he runs out of air."

"I will bury him before lunch," Dominic promised.

I reached across the desk. My fingers brushed the cool metal of the pen.

I pulled it from his grip.

My hand hovered in mid-air over the signature line on the first page.

The marble room felt completely silent. My pulse hammered against my throat. If I signed this, I handed a ruthless corporate predator the keys to my family's vault. If I refused, Julian would strip me of my title, my dignity, and my company by sunrise.

I thought about Julian begging on his knees in the clinic. I thought about the crowd laughing at me. I thought about the sheer humiliation of carrying two babies for a man who viewed me as nothing more than a bank account.

I lowered the pen. The nib scratched against the thick paper.

I did not hesitate. I wanted Julian destroyed. If dealing with the devil guaranteed my revenge, I would gladly sign my soul away.

I slashed my signature across the first page.

"Fast reader," Dominic observed, a faint smirk touching his lips.

"I know how to read a contract," I snapped, flipping past the standard non-disclosure clauses. "I want to see the exact terms of the asset merger."

I turned the heavy pages, scanning the legal jargon. Dominic had outlined everything. The destruction of Julian's shares. The transfer of the Thorne passwords. The public relations strategy to announce our sudden alliance.

I reached the final page.

The ink on the last addendum was fresh, as if it had been printed just minutes before I arrived.

I stopped. My eyes tracked the heavy black font.

"Upon the birth of the twin infants," I read aloud, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

I dragged my gaze up from the paper and stared at Dominic.

The final clause demanded my unborn twins bear the Sterling surname.