His Secret Heir In Her Arms

Ivana didn't speak. She couldn't. Her throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She just wanted to pick up her suitcase and vanish.

Aleta took a step closer. The red soles of her Louboutins flashed like warning lights.

Marnie tugged on Aleta's sleeve. "Aleta, come on. We're going to be late for the gala committee meeting."

Aleta shook her off. "Wait. I want to see this."

She walked right up to Ivana, invading her personal space. The scent of expensive perfume-jasmine and tuberose-was suffocating.

"So, the prodigal gold digger returns," Aleta said. She looked Ivana up and down, her gaze lingering on the frayed hem of Ivana's jeans and the scuffed sneakers.

Ivana bent down to right her suitcase. "Excuse me," she whispered.

Aleta kicked the suitcase. It spun on its side.

"Where is all the money, Ivana?" Aleta asked, her voice raising an octave so the nurses at the station could hear. "You took millions from the Sharpe family. Did you spend it all on... this?"

She gestured vaguely at Ivana's outfit.

Ivana stood up. Her hands were shaking. "Please, Aleta. I'm just here for my mother."

"Your mother?" Aleta laughed. "The one you abandoned to go live in Europe with your millions? You are pathetic."

Ivana tried to step around her. Aleta moved to block her path.

"Get out of my way," Ivana said, her voice gaining a fraction of strength.

Aleta shoved her. It was a hard, sharp push to the chest.

Ivana stumbled back. Her lower back hit the handrail along the wall. Her tote bag slipped from her shoulder, spilling its contents. A toothbrush, a travel-sized deodorant, and a tube of toothpaste clattered onto the floor.

Aleta looked at the cheap toiletries with delight.

"Look at you," she sneered. "You're trash. You were trash four years ago, and you're trash now."

Ivana knelt to pick up her things. She reached for the toothpaste.

Aleta stepped on her hand.

Ivana gasped, pulling her hand back. A sharp pain shot through her fingers.

"Oops," Aleta said.

Ivana looked up, anger finally piercing through the shame. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Aleta's face twisted. She leaned down and grabbed a handful of Ivana's hair, yanking her head back.

Ivana cried out.

"You ruined him," Aleta hissed. "And you think you can just waltz back here?"

She raised her free hand and slapped Ivana.

The sound was like a whip crack.

Ivana's head snapped to the side. Her cheek burned. Her ear rang.

Silence fell over the hallway. Even the nurses stopped typing.

Ivana touched her lip. It was wet. Blood.

Then, the elevator dinged.

Heavy footsteps approached. Not the scuffling of sneakers or the click of heels. The solid, rhythmic thud of leather on tile.

Aleta released Ivana's hair instantly. She stepped back, her face transforming into a mask of shock and innocence.

Ivana looked up from the floor.

He was standing ten feet away.

Gannon Sharpe.

He was wearing a charcoal gray suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His dark hair was shorter than she remembered, the sides faded with military precision. His jaw was clenched tight enough to snap steel.

But it was his eyes that stopped Ivana's heart.

They were the color of storm clouds, and they were looking directly at her.

There was no warmth. No recognition of the intimacy they had once shared. Just a cold, dead void.

Ivana couldn't breathe. Seeing him was worse than the slap. It was worse than the debt. It was a physical ache in the center of her chest that threatened to collapse her lungs.

"Gannon," Aleta breathed. She rushed to his side, clutching his arm. "Thank god you're here. She... she tried to steal my wallet! I caught her going through my bag!"

It was such a blatant lie that Ivana almost laughed.

Gannon didn't look at Aleta. He didn't shake her off, either. He just kept staring at Ivana, who was still on her knees surrounded by cheap toothpaste and a broken suitcase.

Ivana wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her hand. She slowly stood up. Her legs were trembling uncontrollably.

Gannon's gaze dropped to the blood on her face. His eyes narrowed slightly, a microscopic shift, before returning to their icy indifference.

"Is that true?" he asked. His voice was deep, a rumble that vibrated in Ivana's bones.

Ivana looked at him. She wanted to scream the truth. She wanted to tell him about the NDA, about his grandfather, about the sacrifice.

But she couldn't. The contract was ironclad. And if she broke it, they would stop the payments that had kept Elena alive this long. Even though the money was gone now, the legal threat remained.

"I didn't steal anything," Ivana said softly.

Gannon took a step closer. He loomed over her, sucking all the oxygen out of the hallway.

He looked at her faded hoodie. He looked at the exhaustion etched under her eyes.

"You look like hell, Ivana," he said.

The words were flat. Cruel.

Ivana flinched.

"Is this what the money bought you?" he asked. "A one-way ticket to the gutter?"