After A Huge Fight At My Husband's Family Gathering, Everyone Turned On Me—Even My Husband.

The following morning, London greeted us with a gray, dreary drizzle. Leaving Miles under the watchful protection of Arthur and two highly trained private security officers at Arthur's penthouse, Thomas and I met Eleanor Thorne at the Royal Courts of Justice on the Strand.

The preliminary emergency hearing was scheduled for 10:00 AM.

As we walked up the grand stone steps of the courthouse, a fleet of black sedans pulled up to the curb. Out stepped Richard Vance—a tall, silver-haired man in a bespoke Savile Row suit whose cold, predatory eyes had terrified me for nearly a decade. Beside him walked Julian Vance.

Julian looked pale, thin, and hollow. He couldn't even meet my eyes as he walked up the steps, shielding his face behind expensive designer sunglasses.

"Claire," Richard Vance drawled as our paths crossed in the wide Victorian corridor outside the courtroom. His voice was smooth as silk and cold as ice. "You're looking remarkably... rural. I see you've traded high society for mud and apple trees."

"Richard," I replied, standing straight, my chin held high, wearing a tailored navy suit that reflected the iron will I had forged over the past three years. "You haven't changed. Still hiding behind lawyers and bought-and-paid-for security."

Richard chuckled dryly, stepping closer. "You always were headstrong, my dear. But let's stop playing games. You know how this ends. Julian needs the boy for the transaction. Hand Miles over for six months. Let him attend the proper boarding schools, let him stand beside his father at the press conference in Dubai, and I will fund a ten-million-pound trust for you. Refuse... and I will use every legal, political, and financial asset I possess to ruin you, your lover, and everyone who has helped you."

Before I could speak, Thomas stepped directly into Richard Vance’s personal space. Thomas towered over the older man, his presence radiating an undeniable authority.

"Listen to me very carefully, Vance," Thomas said, his voice dropping into a register that made even the surrounding security detail stiffen. "If you so much as mention our son’s name again in the context of a business transaction, I will personally publish sixteen years of off-shore banking records, illegal campaign contributions, and bribed Swiss medical records that my firm has been quietly documenting since Tuesday."

Richard Vance’s smug expression flickered for a fraction of a second. A flash of genuine uncertainty passed through his eyes.