Chapter 4 - The Ultimatum
By late afternoon, the town car hadn't moved. The neighborhood children had run past it on their way home from school, delivery trucks had double-parked around it, but Adrian remained anchored to the asphalt like a statue carved from grief and stubbornness.
I had put the twins down for their nap in the back bedroom, watching until their breathing slowed and their small chests rose and fell in unison. Only then did I grab my old wool coat, pull the hood over my head, and march down the wooden stairs of the bakery into the fading autumn light.
The air was sharp, biting against my cheeks as I crossed the narrow street.
Before I even reached the passenger side, the rear door of the town car swung open. Adrian stepped out onto the pavement. He had taken off his wet overcoat, leaving him in a crisp charcoal suit that looked entirely out of place against the working-class brick facades of our neighborhood. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes standing out starkly against his pale skin, but there was an electric, terrifying intensity in his gaze.
"Clara," he said, his voice low and steady.
"Stop following me, Adrian," I hissed, keeping my voice down so the elderly woman walking her poodle down the sidewalk wouldn't stare. "You've found me. You’ve confirmed I'm alive. Now get back in your car and drive back to your mansion, your boardrooms, and whatever ghost of Celeste is still haunting your halls."
"Those children are mine," he said, not asking, not guessing—stating a mathematical certainty.
"They are my children," I shot back, stepping directly into his personal space, my amber eyes—identical to his, identical to theirs—flashing with a fury that had been suppressed for three years. "When I walked out of that house, I walked out alone. When I found out I was carrying twins in a tiny studio apartment in Ohio with fifty dollars in my pocket and no medical insurance, you weren't there. When I went through twenty-two hours of agonizing labor with no one to hold my hand, you weren't there. You forfeited every right to call them yours the moment you let my sister into our bed."
Adrian flinched as if I had slapped him across the face. The pain in his eyes was authentic, raw, and deep, but it didn't soften my resolve.
"I was set up, Clara," he repeated, his voice cracking with a desperate plea. "I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you. But I will not walk away from my son and my daughter. You can hide them behind locked doors, you can change your name a hundred times, but I am a Vale. If I have to file in every court in the state of Illinois to get joint custody, I will do it before the sun sets tonight."
My blood turned to ice. "You wouldn't."
"Try me," he said softly, stepping closer, his gaze locking onto mine with terrifying determination. "Test me, Clara. See what a man who has already lost everything is willing to do to get his family back."
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed in my coat pocket. I pulled it out with trembling fingers.
An unknown number.
I swiped to answer, pressing the speaker against my ear.
"Clara Vale?" a sharp, high-pitched female voice sang through the receiver, dripping with icy venom. "It’s been a while, darling. I hear you’ve finally been found. Tell Adrian that if he thinks he can quietly reclaim his little family without a public scandal, he’s gravely mistaken. I'm coming to Chicago, Clara. And this time, I'm making sure everyone knows who you really are."
May you like
The call clicked dead.
I stood frozen on the sidewalk, the phone slipping slightly in my numb fingers, while Adrian watched my face pale into absolute horror.
