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He nods. "Tell me about our daughter, printsessa."
I sigh in relief, and yeah, I got the 'our' bit loud and clear. I put the box of cookies in my bag, knowing Mila will love them, and get the other folder from my bag that's full of baby pictures. I place them on the table. As I place them down, Rachel puts two lattes and two cheesy bacon breakfast sandwiches on the table. I smile and thank her while Damian looks at me. Just because I will always be bound to him doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to let him back in. Once a cheat, always a cheat, right?
I take a quick bite of my cheesy goodness, then open the folder and put the pictures in order for him. From birth until now, I've ensured I didn't give any photos of myself; he doesn't deserve any of me while pregnant.
I continue eating while he looks at the pictures. Some he smiles at, others he looks broken, like the one from six months ago when Mila decided to try and “fly” off the sofa like Peter Pan and Wendy. We ended up in the emergency room for four hours to have a cast put on her wrist. She was lucky, but my heart was not so fortunate. I swear she's going to end up giving me a heart attack one of these days, and she's only two!
Now, he’s looking at the one from last week. Mila decided she wanted to start ballet, and I couldn't say no, even if money is tight. The funds given by Noah ran out after paying for half the hospital bills, my insurance from my job at the bar only paid half. The rest of the money went to the apartment and tuition. After that, it was gone, but Mila deserves things like ballet. I was never allowed. My mother used to say that I was too fat. Yeah, it took two years of therapy to realize everything my mamma said was a crock of shit. The woman was trying to prepare me for the life she had to deal with but went about it the wrong way. It wasn't like she couldn't come out and say, “Hey, you're in an arranged marriage; you need to be perfect so he doesn't cheat.” It didn't work anyway, though.
He drops his head into his hands. I should feel guilty for how sad he looks, but I can't. I didn’t keep Mila and Damian apart out of spite. It's not about the affairs or other potential children he may have, it's about the alliance and the lies I was told growing up. She doesn't need to feel this alone and broken; she doesn't need someone to pretend to be her best friend and say they fell in love when, really, I was sold like cattle. I won't let them do it to her.
I open the folder, knowing the arguments will start soon, and reach out for the legal document about Mila. I'll do the divorce ones outside, where I can jump into my car. I place the paper on the table, turn it around, and move it his way. He lifts his head, his brows furrowing. He is clearly nervous about the documents and what they mean.
"Right here in front of you is a legal document that basically states that Mila cannot and will not be forced into an arranged marriage in any way. If you want any contact with her, then I suggest you sign it because you are not going on the birth certificate until you do. Once you've signed it, we can arrange a once-a-month meeting between here and New York in Kentucky. No one apart from Alexandr and possibly Sergi can see her with you. My mother is not to know about her, period, until I am ready. If she finds out, then you will have to make the trip here to Texas once a month instead.
If you break the contract, then not only do you automatically lose all parental rights, but you will also be fined two hundred million dollars that will go into an account in Mila's name for her to do with as she pleases once she’s twenty-one," I state in a cold, firm voice, which makes Damian's head snap up.
He looks at me in shock, like he doesn't even recognize me. Yeah, you did this, husband. Say hello to a mama bear! He opens and closes his mouth several times. Huh, I've shocked the most fearsome soon-to-be criminal king.
"This is non-negotiable; you don't sign, you have no access, simple as that." His jaw tightens at that, and he looks at me with cold eyes I've only ever seen when he looks at his enemies. I don't even flinch. Yeah, bring it, jackass, you don't scare me where Mila is concerned.
"Then I guess I'll just see you in court!"
I laugh, like a full-on laugh, which causes him to frown.
"Do you really think you'd have a leg to stand on? It doesn't matter if you're the king of England; you won't win in front of any judge, even if they are on your payroll—well, not with all the extra insurance I took with me when I left you! You think I don't have proof of who you pay to keep your men out of prison? You don't think that I don't have photographic evidence of all your illegal gun smuggling, drug smuggling, and money laundering? You don't think I don't have proof of your underground fighting ring? You don't think I haven't kept tabs on you? Really? I knew this day was coming; granted, not this soon, but I made sure I was ready. So bring it, because, as far as my daughter is concerned, you will not win!"
Now he looks angry; his hands are clenched, having clearly underestimated me. I'm a mama bear right now, and I don't give a shit if I'm classified as a fucking traitor to the crime families. Mila comes first.
"Why the fuck are you doing this? Is it not enough that you kept me from my daughter's life for over two years? I fucking missed everything all because you were a jealous bitch about me fucking around. So fucking what? Grow up, Sofia; this is the life. Most married men have mistresses. Who knew you were so much like your fucking mother? It's an arranged marriage, mistresses happen. Just be fucking grateful our fathers wanted to keep you in the dark. I fucking gave you everything!" he growls.
Now it's my turn to be pissed. How dare he compare me to the woman my mother has become?
I lean over the table and get right in his face; his eyes widen, not expecting it. Like I said, Mama Bear is in full mode now!
"I couldn't give a fuck if you've fucked a thousand women behind my back; go catch more fucking diseases for all I care." He turns redder if that's possible. "You really think you're that special? Yeah, you broke me, but that's because you were supposed to be my best friend. Do you really think I would stop you from having contact with Mila over you being a cheating bastard? I planned on pulling out of the wedding, and I planned on us co-parenting her—until I found out she was a she!"
His shoulders deflate when he realizes he just fucked up, getting angry with me, and jumping to the wrong conclusion.
Too late, dickhead.
"Do you really think I would let my daughter be brought up in this life only to be sold off for an alliance? Lied to; no chance, pridurok." Then I sit back down and stare into his cold eyes, no doubt that cold because I’d just called him a dickhead.
"You can either sign this now or you can have your lawyer look at it first, whichever you prefer. Just note that the longer you take to sign, the longer it’ll take until you or anyone else can meet Mila. Or you can go back to wherever you came from. I don't give a shit just like I don't give a shit who you fuck, got it?"
Okay, so the last bit is a total lie. I do give a shit, but like fuck am I telling him that!
"Oh, and by the way, thanks for the chlamydia; they found it during a regular blood test during my pregnancy. You should be fucking thankful it didn't harm my daughter!"
His face stays cold until the last bit of news, when he pales significantly.
I reach down and grab my bag, then stand, looking him in the eyes.
"I'm guessing you already have my number, but if you'd prefer, you can go through my lawyer a few doors down. It’s Mr. Townsend. And don't bother trying to threaten him or kill him. He's the uncle of one of the MC boys in the next town over, so he's under their protection, and I do believe they have an alliance with not only the Bratva but also the Greek, Irish, and Italian Mafia as well."
He cannot hide the shock this time because I have just proven I'm more aware of everything than he believed.
Thank you, Noah. I owe you one. God, I miss him and Lily more than anything.
