Chapter 4

Lucian's fingers tightened around my arm, and from the look in his eyes, he had every intention of hauling me out of the ballroom whether I agreed to go or not.

A bolt of panic shot through me.

I searched the crowded room frantically until my eyes finally found what I had been looking for. At the far end of the mezzanine, behind the glass doors of the VIP lounge, stood the unmistakable figure of my husband. He was deep in a private discussion with several of the city's commissioners, completely oblivious to the chaos unfolding downstairs.

I had to get to him.

I wrenched my arm free with every ounce of strength I had. The sudden movement caught Lucian by surprise, loosening his hold just enough for me to break away.

I ran toward the staircase leading to the VIP level.

“Move!” I called desperately as I pushed through the crowd. “Let me through!”

I only needed him to look down.

If he saw me, everything would be fine.

I hadn't even reached the first marble step when two of Lucian's enforcers moved into my path. The venue's security guards quickly joined them, creating an intimidating wall of bodies between me and the stairs.

My husband had spent three years making sure my identity remained hidden from the criminal world. Almost no one knew that the woman Lucian had discarded was now protected by one of the most powerful men in the underworld.

To these guards, I was nothing more than a hysterical ex-wife causing trouble at a private event.

“Ma'am, you can't go up there,” one of the venue guards said impatiently. “The VIP area is restricted.”

Before I could explain, he planted both hands against my chest and shoved me backward.

I stumbled violently.

My heels slid across the smooth marble, and I went down hard, my knees striking the floor with enough force to send pain shooting through my legs.

Then came the horrible sound of silk ripping.

The hem of my emerald gown tore against the stone.

A collective gasp traveled through the ballroom, but no one stepped forward.

No one offered me a hand.

Arabella stood nearby, watching with unmistakable satisfaction as I struggled on the floor.

Then Lucian approached.

He crouched in front of me and seized my chin, his fingers pressing painfully into my cheeks until I had no choice but to look directly at him.

“Did you really start believing you're untouchable?” he murmured.

There was nothing playful in his expression anymore.

“You're still the same woman I left behind. You couldn't even keep our child alive, and now you think some powerful man upstairs is going to see something worth protecting in you?”

His grip tightened.

“What makes you think he actually loves you? He doesn't even know the truth about you. No respectable Don would want a woman who has already been discarded and declared incapable of giving him a child.”

Each word landed with brutal precision.

I could barely breathe.

I had promised myself that Lucian would never make me cry again, yet my body betrayed me. A single tear escaped and slid down my cheek.

His expression immediately changed.

He had been waiting for that.

A cruel smile pulled at his mouth as though my tears had finally restored his sense of power.

“You see?” he whispered. “You're still breakable.”

He grabbed my arm again and began pulling me upright.

“Whoever this man is, he's using you. Once I deal with him, I'll put you somewhere you can't cause trouble anymore.”

Then a tiny voice suddenly rang through the ballroom.

“Mommy!”

Everything stopped.

A little boy in a perfectly fitted miniature tuxedo came rushing through the crowd.

He ran straight toward me and wrapped both arms around my waist.

My breath caught.

I immediately bent down and pulled him against me, shielding his small body with my own.

His warmth, his familiar scent, the little arms clinging tightly around me—it all collided with Lucian's earlier accusation.

You couldn't even keep our child alive.

The lie nearly broke me.

Because my baby had never died.

Three years ago, I hadn't suffered a miscarriage.

I had gone into premature labor.

I could still remember lying on that delivery table, surrounded by doctors while blood soaked through the sheets. I had been terrified, but beneath the terror was another memory that had refused to leave me.

Lucian's voice from weeks earlier.

Once the baby is born, I'll get rid of her.

I had heard him say it myself.

By then, I knew exactly what he intended to do. If Lucian discovered that my child had survived, he would eliminate me and take the baby for Arabella to raise as though I had never existed.

But Lucian hadn't been the only powerful man who knew what was happening that night.

My husband had been there too.

Using his wealth and influence, he had found doctors willing to falsify the medical records and create the illusion that my baby had died.

While Lucian was occupied with Arabella, who had conveniently been having another emotional crisis in the waiting room, my premature son was secretly carried out through a restricted exit.

He was transported in a private medical incubator equipped with everything necessary to keep such a fragile newborn alive.

Lucian had never known.

Not until now.

His entire body went rigid as he stared at the child clinging to me.

“What the hell is this...?”

He reached down, apparently intending to pull my son away from me.

Then his hand stopped.

His expression shifted as he stared at the boy's face.

Confusion came first.

Then disbelief.

His brow slowly furrowed as he studied the child's features, as though some terrible realization was struggling to take shape in his mind.

He never got the chance to finish the thought.

A thunderous crack exploded across the ballroom.

The security guard who had shoved me was suddenly lifted off his feet and sent hurtling across the room. He slammed into the towering champagne display, sending glass, bottles, and silver trays crashing spectacularly onto the marble.

Everyone screamed.

Before anyone could react, the massive doors leading to the VIP lounge above shook violently.

Then they were ripped from their hinges.

Silence fell.

A man stepped through the ruined doorway.

He descended the grand staircase slowly, each step carrying a quiet menace that seemed to drain the air from the entire ballroom.

My husband.

His gaze traveled over the crowd before settling on Lucian.

More specifically, on Lucian's hand hovering dangerously close to our son.

When he finally spoke, his voice was so cold that it seemed to freeze the room around him.

“Take your hands off my wife.”

His eyes hardened.

“And stay away from my son.”