The Daughter My Ex Ordered Me to Lose

At exactly nine, the electronic lock on Suite 1908 chimed.

Heavy footsteps crossed the marble entryway and stopped at the edge of the carpet.

I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows with my back to the room. Manhattan glittered below, every street reduced to a clean line of light. From that height, no one could see the gutter where I had almost died.

The crimson silk robe against my skin was not meant to seduce Gideon. It was armor in the color of the blood he had never seen.

An unsigned forty-million-dollar authorization waited on the glass coffee table. The first twenty million had cleared that morning. Another twenty was scheduled if tonight's terms were met. The final forty remained entirely under my control.

"I am here," Gideon said.

"Do not step off the marble."

He stopped. "I fulfilled your condition. Sign the transfer."

"Empty your pockets. Phone, keys, wallet, and the CrossTech corporate seal."

A pause. Then metal and leather struck the glass one item at a time.

"You asked for dinner," he said. "This looks more like an interrogation."

"It becomes dinner when I decide you have earned a chair."

His impatience sharpened. "Turn around."

I faced him.

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

Gideon staggered back. His shoulder hit the wine cabinet hard enough to rattle two crystal decanters.

"Vivienne?"

He stared at me without blinking. His gaze moved from my eyes to my mouth, then down the line of my body as if death might have left a seam he could find.

"The police recovered your coat near the river," he said. "There was blood. They issued a death certificate."

"I know. I have read it."

"You let me believe you were dead."

"You told me my life meant nothing before I ever left the house."

Shock gave way to anger with almost insulting speed. "You disappeared for five years, built an investment firm, and waited until CrossTech was vulnerable."

"I did not make your product fail. I did not sign your bad supplier contracts. I did not pledge your voting shares to banks that no longer trusted you."

"You targeted me."

"I studied an undervalued asset with incompetent leadership."

His face tightened. "Where is the baby?"

The question landed harder than I expected.

I untied the sash and opened the robe just enough to expose the thick white scar across my lower abdomen. Gideon's gaze dropped. The anger left his eyes for one unguarded second.

"What happened?" he asked.

"The impact shattered my pelvis. The surgery nearly ended the pregnancy."

His hand lifted as if he meant to touch the scar. I closed the robe.

"Do not come closer."

"Did the baby survive?"

"You do not get to ask about a child you ordered me to erase."

"I am still your husband."

"You stopped being my husband when you locked the door."

His jaw set. "We never divorced. If you are alive, our marriage is legally intact."

"Then perhaps you should postpone next month's wedding."

"Serena has nothing to do with this."

A quiet laugh escaped me. "She stood in my house wearing your protection while you threw me out. Today she wore a ring bought by the company I rescued. The moment I asked you to enter a hotel room alone, you sent her to the car."

"I came to save CrossTech."

"Exactly."

The bathroom door opened.

Steam drifted into the suite. Damian Roth stepped out, fastening the cuffs of a white dress shirt. His hair was damp, and the top buttons of the shirt remained undone.

Gideon went rigid.

"What the hell is Roth doing here?"

Damian ignored him. He crossed to the sofa, lifted my wool coat, and settled it around my shoulders. His knuckles brushed my neck with the easy familiarity of someone who had seen every version of my fear.

Gideon's gaze followed the movement. "You are sleeping with the man who stole three government contracts from me?"

"Damian drove the sedan that hit me," I said.

The accusation in Gideon's face faltered.

"He called 911 in forty-two seconds. He stayed until the ambulance came. A stranger did more for me on that road than my husband did inside his own house."

"You expect me to believe this is coincidence?"

"No," Damian said. "You should believe your company failed because you treated caution like cowardice. We bought debt you could not pay."

Gideon pointed toward the door. "Get out of my wife's suite."

"I am not your wife," I said.

"You are legally bound to me."

"And you are publicly engaged to another woman. Would you like the reporters downstairs to discuss the distinction?"

He looked at the unsigned authorization. "Release the funds, Vivienne. You proved your point."

"I tested a pattern. Five years ago, you chose Serena because she was convenient. Yesterday, you discarded her the moment she threatened your company."

I picked up the tablet and tapped the transfer screen.

A red banner appeared: FUNDS FROZEN.

Gideon lunged to the coffee table. "The debt matures tomorrow."

"Then arrive at the CrossTech boardroom at ten. I will be chairing the emergency meeting."

"This is extortion."

"This is governance. You signed the agreement."

He grabbed his phone, then stopped when Damian folded his arms.

"Call the SEC," Damian said. "Tell them you voluntarily sold forty-two percent of your company and are angry that the buyer read the contract."

I lifted the glass of Merlot waiting beside the tablet and poured it down the sink.

"Tomorrow, I take your company first."

A small cough sounded near the adjoining bedroom.

The door, left imperfectly latched by the nanny, eased open.

Lily stepped into the suite in cotton pajamas, clutching her blue sketchbook to her chest. Her collar slipped off one shoulder, revealing the pale crescent birthmark near her collarbone.

She looked from me to Damian and held up the drawing.

"Daddy D, I finished the turtle."

Gideon stopped breathing.

Lily turned toward him. Her gray eyes—his gray eyes—met his across the room.

His face drained of color.

"Who is she?" he whispered. "Why does she have my eyes?"