Chapter 3 - The Threat from the Past
The next three weeks felt like a fairytale I was terrifyingly certain I would wake up from.
Adrian didn't just step into my life; he wove himself into it with the quiet, unyielding strength of a oak tree.
He didn't make grand, loud declarations at the office—at work, he remained the brilliant, professional CEO, though his eyes lingered on me a second longer during board meetings, and fresh white peonies mysteriously appeared on my desk every Monday morning.
But outside the office, he was transformed.
He showed up at my Brooklyn apartment on Saturday mornings wearing jeans and hoodies, carrying fresh pastries from a bakery in SoHo. He sat on my living room floor for hours, helping Mia build elaborate LEGO castles for Gerald the elephant. He listened to me talk about my childhood, my dreams of starting my own independent design studio, and the deep, lingering pain of my past.
One rainy Sunday afternoon, while Mia was napping in her room, Adrian and I sat on my velvet couch, wrapped in a throw blanket, watching the rain hit the windowpanes.
"You never talk about Mia's father," Adrian said gently, stroking my hair with his long fingers.
I went quiet, staring down at my hands. "His name was Julian. We were engaged seven years ago. The moment the pregnancy test showed positive, he emptied our joint bank account, packed his bags, and vanished. I found out later he had fled to Europe to avoid millions in gambling debts."
Adrian’s jaw tightened, his gray-blue eyes turning icy with a lethal, protective rage. "A coward."
"I raised Mia alone from the second she drew her first breath," I whispered, resting my head against Adrian’s chest, listening to the steady, comforting beat of his heart. "I swore I would never let another man close enough to hurt us again."
Adrian lifted my chin with his finger, forcing me to look into his eyes. "I will never leave you, Clara. Not in this lifetime."
He leaned down, pressing his lips against mine in a deep, slow, possessive kiss that made my soul anchor itself to his.
But fairytales in Manhattan rarely survive without a storm.
The following Thursday, I was working late in my office at Blackwell & Reed. Adrian was in a closed-door meeting on the top floor with international investors.
My office phone rang.
"Clara Bennett," I answered, keeping my eyes on my computer screen.
"Hello, Clara," a smooth, sickeningly familiar voice sneered through the receiver. "You're looking very prosperous on Park Avenue these days."
The pen dropped from my hand. My blood turned to ice.
"Julian?" I whispered, horror rising in my chest like a tidal wave.
"In the flesh," Julian laughed softly—a dark, desperate sound. "I saw the front page of the New York Post fashion column this morning. Pictures of you leaving a luxury restaurant in Tribeca on the arm of Adrian Kane."
"How did you get this number?!" I screamed, standing up so fast my office chair rolled back into the wall.
"I have my ways," Julian said smoothly. "And more importantly, I have rights, Clara. Mia is six years old now, isn't she? A growing girl needs her biological father. Unless, of course, her wealthy new benefactor wants to make a financial arrangement to keep me out of the picture?"
"You abandoned her before she was born!" I sobbed, tears of pure terror pouring down my face. "You have no rights! You owe hundreds of thousands in back child support!"
"We’ll see what the family court judges say when I drag your little billionaire boyfriend through a messy custody battle in the tabloids," Julian threatened coldly. "I want two million dollars, Clara. Tell Kane to prepare the wire transfer by tomorrow night, or I show up at Mia’s school."
The line went dead.
I dropped the phone, sinking to my knees on the office rug, clutching my stomach as dry sobs tore through my frame.
The door to my office suddenly flew open.
Adrian walked in, holding a folder, but the moment he saw me kneeling on the floor, weeping uncontrollably, the folder clattered to the ground.
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"Clara!" Adrian shouted, dropping beside me, pulling me into his arms. "What happened?! What's wrong?!"
"He's back..." I gasped, burying my face in his neck, my hands clutching his suit jacket. "Julian... he found us, Adrian... he wants two million dollars or he’s going to take Mia away!"
