Chapter 2 The Counterattack

"You're bluffing," I said.

My voice didn't shake. I made sure of it. But my heart was slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. Sarah. My assistant. The woman I had trusted with my schedule, my flights, my medical appointments. She had sold me out to the one man I was trying to bury.

Julian saw the fear on my face and his smile widened. He knew he had me.

"Bluffing?" He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded document. "Doctor's letterhead. Your name. Your due date. Sarah sent me a copy two days ago. She's very loyal to the people who pay her."

I stared at the paper. I wanted to snatch it and tear it into pieces. But what was the point? He'd have copies. Men like Julian always had copies.

"You set a trap," I said. "You knew I was coming for you."

"I hoped." Julian tucked the paper back into his pocket. "I'll admit, I didn't expect the Queen of Vancourt to walk out of that elevator. That part surprised me. But I'm not an idiot, Elena. The moment my money started disappearing, I knew someone was hunting me. I just needed leverage."

The security guards were still holding his arms. He didn't even look at them.

"Let him go," I said.

The guards hesitated. "Miss"

"Let him go."

They released him and stepped back. Julian straightened his suit and brushed off his sleeves like he was fixing a crease, not dusting off an arrest.

"See?" he said. "You're already listening to me. That's how this works. I say jump, you ask how high."

I wanted to hit him. I wanted to claw the smug look off his face. Instead, I took a slow breath and did the math in my head. He had the doctor's records. He had Sarah. He could file for custody, drag my name through every court in the city, put my face on every gossip blog and business page. A custody fight could take years. My board would panic. My stock would tank. My father's legacy would become a tabloid joke.

He was right. He had me.

But only if I let him.

"Fine," I said. "Let's talk. Not here. My office. Top floor."

Julian's eyes flickered with surprise. He hadn't expected me to agree so quickly.

"Lead the way," he said.

We rode the elevator up in silence. He stood on one side, I stood on the other, and the space between us felt like it was full of broken glass. I didn't look at him. I looked at the numbers above the door, counting the floors.

My office was empty when we walked in. Sarah's desk was neat. Her chair was pushed in. The little succulent plant I had given her for her birthday sat by her monitor.

She wasn't here. She was smart enough not to be here.

Julian walked to the window and looked out at the city. "Nice view. You always did like nice things. I never understood why."

I sat behind my desk. "What do you want, Julian? Say it clearly. No games."

He turned around. "Simple. I want my company back. You buy back every share you bought, you restore my investors, and you make a public statement that Sterling is stable and profitable. Then I walk away and you never hear from me again."

"And the baby?"

He shrugged. "You raise it. I don't want a child complicating my life. I'll sign away my parental rights. Clean break."

It was the most Julian thing I had ever heard. Our child, our actual human child, was just a bargaining chip to him. A card to play and then toss aside.

"You're disgusting," I said.

"You're the one who got pregnant on purpose to trap me," he said flatly. "Don't play the victim."

I stood up so fast my chair rolled backward and hit the wall. "I never trapped you! I found out after the divorce! I didn't tell you because I knew exactly what kind of man you are and I wanted nothing from you!"

Julian flinched. Just a little. But I saw it.

"Then why hide it?" he asked, quieter now.

"Because you don't deserve to know. Because Victoria doesn't deserve to play stepmother to my child. Because I would rather raise this baby alone in a one-room apartment than let it grow up in a house where love is a transaction."

He was silent for a long moment. The cold afternoon light hit the side of his face. For a second, he looked tired. Older. Like the last few days had taken something out of him.

Then he shook his head. "Cute speech. It doesn't change anything. You have until Friday."

"Julian"

"Friday, Elena. Or I call my lawyer and the press." He walked toward the door and stopped with his hand on the handle. "And Elena? Fire Sarah. She's been skimming from your petty cash too. She's not loyal. She's just greedy."

He left.

I stood there for a long time. Then I picked up my phone and called a number I swore I would never call again.

It rang twice.

"You said you'd never call me," a deep voice said. "It's been three days. I was starting to think you meant it."

"I need a favor," I said. "And this one isn't clean."

My father's oldest friend, Marcus Reed, was the kind of man who solved problems with briefcases and silence. He didn't ask questions about legality. He asked questions about results.

"Go on," he said.

"I need you to find a doctor who falsifies records. I need proof that the letter Julian Sterling has is a forgery. And I need it by Thursday night."

Marcus was quiet. "That's not a favor. That's a war."

"I know."

"Who's the target?"

"My ex-husband."

A low laugh came through the phone. "I always liked you, kid. Your father would be proud. Consider it done."

I hung up and stared at the door Julian had walked through.

Friday was coming. But he had no idea what was waiting for him.

Then my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

Nice meeting, Mrs. Sterling. Your husband isn't the only one who knows about your baby. Let's talk. S.

Sarah.

My hand tightened around the phone. The game wasn't over.

It was just beginning.