My Ex Told Me to Abort—Then Met Our Daughter

"The door is unlocked," I called out.

The heavy oak groaned as it swung inward. I kept my back to the entrance, staring straight ahead at the city skyline reflecting off the floor-to-ceiling penthouse windows. The cold metal of the voice modulator felt heavy in my right palm. I adjusted the red silk of my robe, letting the fabric slip down my left shoulder. The jagged, raised scar near my shoulder blade lay exposed to the open room.

Footsteps crossed the threshold.

"I brought the revised operational budget," Gideon said. His voice echoed off the high ceiling, crisp and strictly professional. He stopped several feet away, keeping his distance. "Hale Meridian wants oversight, fine. But I expect the second tranche of funding released by midnight if I am playing this game."

He treated this like a boardroom negotiation. A transaction to endure. I heard the faint snap of plastic as he tapped the matte-black keycard for room 1908 against his thigh.

The electronic lock engaged with a sharp click, sealing us inside.

I tossed the modulator onto the windowsill. The metal clattered against the marble ledge.

I turned around.

"Long time no see, my ex-husband," I said.

Gideon stumbled backward. His hip collided hard with the edge of the glass coffee table. The crystal vase rattled, spilling a few drops of water onto the rug.

All the color drained from his face. He stared at me, his eyes wide, mapping the features he thought he had buried half a decade ago. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself, his knuckles turning white.

"Vivienne?" The name scraped out of his throat. "That is impossible. The hospital... the police confirmed you died in that crash."

I closed the distance between us. Reaching into my robe pocket, I pulled out a folded sheet of paper. I flattened it against his dark suit jacket, pressing it right over his racing heart.

"A copy of my official death certificate," I said. "Are you afraid I came back for revenge? Why so scared, Gideon?"

He stared down at the paper, then back at my face. His hands shook as he gripped the edges of the document. He scanned the coroner's signature at the bottom.

"You faked it," he whispered, crushing the paper in his fist. "You let my family believe you were dead. You let everyone mourn you."

"I owe the Cross family nothing," I cut him off. "The only debt here belongs to the man who forced his pregnant wife out into a torrential downpour, then could not even bother to identify her body at the morgue."

"I was grieving," Gideon shot back, his voice rising. "They told me the car burned. They told me there was nothing left to see."

"They told you what you wanted to hear," I said. "It made it easier for you to move Serena into my house the very next week."

Gideon opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat. He looked at the jagged scar on my shoulder, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"You can come out now," I said, pitching my voice toward the master bathroom.

The frosted glass door opened. Damian stepped into the living area. He wore a crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, holding a thick stack of manila folders. There was no trace of intimacy in his posture, only cold, calculated efficiency.

Gideon's gaze darted between us. The shock morphed into a rigid, defensive anger. The fear evaporated, replaced by the aggressive arrogance I knew too well.

"Damian Roth," Gideon said, his jaw tight. "You are the one who hit her car that night."

"And I spent the last eighteen months buying up every broken link in your supply chain," Damian replied. He walked forward and dropped the folders onto the glass table. "Roth Dynamics acquired your unsecured debt. I own the leases on your warehouses. I own the contracts for your server farms. But I do not hold the leash."

Damian tapped the cover of the top file. "The eighty million dollars comes from Hale Meridian. The final authorizer is standing right in front of you."

Gideon looked me up and down, his lip curling into a sneer. He took a step forward, invading my space.

"So that is how you did it," Gideon said, his tone laced with venom. "You survived the crash, found the man who hit you, and spread your legs to get access to his capital. A new master for a new life. Did you offer him the same pathetic devotion you gave me?"

I swung my hand.

The crack of my palm against his cheek echoed like a gunshot through the penthouse. Gideon's head snapped to the side. A dark red mark bloomed across his jawline. He touched his face, his eyes flashing with fury.

"That was not for five years ago," I said, lowering my hand. "That was for assuming a woman only gains power by sleeping with a man."

I picked up the top folder from the table and shoved it hard against his chest. He caught it instinctively before it fell.

"Forty-two percent equity confirmation," I said. "And the temporary voting proxy. You will accept the new board oversight by Friday morning."

Gideon rubbed his jaw, glaring at the papers in his hands. He flipped open the cover, scanning the legal jargon. "And if I refuse your oversight?"

"Then Hale Meridian halts the second tranche of funding," I said. "CrossTech defaults in ten days. The banks will auction off your patents for scrap, and you will walk away with nothing."

"You cannot do this," Gideon snapped, throwing the folder back onto the table. "I built that company. It belongs to me."

"It belongs to whoever holds the debt," Damian said from the sidelines. "And now, she holds all of it."

"I am still the CEO," Gideon argued, pointing a finger at me. "You cannot force me out without a supermajority vote. The bylaws protect my position."

"The bylaws protect a solvent company," I corrected him. "You are bleeding cash. You have no leverage left to pull."

I pulled my phone from my pocket. I opened the timer app and set it for forty-eight hours. I pressed start.

The digital numbers began ticking down.

I held the screen up, forcing him to look at it. Right above the red numbers, the digital contract displayed the majority shareholder's full legal name: Vivienne Hale.

Gideon stared at the glowing letters. His shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him as the reality of the trap closed around his neck.

"You never intended to save my company from the start," he said.