Chapter 4 - Waking Up in the Lion’s DenUpstairs, the morning sun began to pierce through the heavy velvet drapes of the master suite, casting long, golden lines across the hardwood floor.
I sat quietly in an armchair beside the massive four-poster bed, my eyes fixed on Claire’s face. The IV line snaked from the back of her hand up to an automated saline and nutrient drip. Color had slowly begun to return to her cheeks, though dark circles still bruised the skin beneath her closed eyes.
She stirred softly, her long lashes fluttering before she opened them.
For a second, confusion clouded her gaze as she stared up at the intricate plaster molding of the ceiling. Then, memory flooded back. Her body went rigid. Her hand immediately flew down to protect her abdomen, and she tried to sit up, gasping in sudden panic.
“Easy, Claire,” I said gently, leaning forward, keeping my hands resting palms-up on my knees so she could see I posed no threat. “Don't move too fast. You’re safe.”
Claire froze. She turned her head slowly, her eyes locking onto mine. The sheer terror in her expression was replaced by a flash of raw, unadulterated fury that cut deeper than any knife.
“You...” she whispered, her voice raspy from dehydration. “You brought me here? After everything... after what you did?”
“Claire, listen to me—”
“No! Don't you dare!” she cried out, tears finally spilling over her lashes as she tried to push herself up against the headboard. “You threw me away like trash! You told me our marriage meant nothing! And now... what? You find out I’m carrying your baby and you send your men to drag me off the street like a stray dog?!”
“I didn't know,” I said, every word heavy with agonizing truth. “Claire, I swear to God on my parents’ graves, I didn't know you were pregnant.”
She let out a bitter, choked laugh. “Oh, please, Roman. You run this city. You know everything that happens within a fifty-mile radius. You knew I was struggling. You knew I was working two jobs. You just didn't care until it affected your bloodline!”
“Julian lied to you,” I said, my voice cracking slightly as I leaned closer. I reached out, hesitating before gently resting my hand over hers where she clutched the blanket. She tried to pull away, but I held on softly, letting her feel the warmth of my skin. “Julian intercepted your communications. He lied to the clinic, he lied to you, and he told me you wanted nothing to do with me after the divorce papers were signed.”
Claire stopped struggling. She stared at me, searching my eyes for any sign of deception, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.
“Julian?” she whispered, disbelief coloring her tone. “Your cousin... your golden boy?”
“He’s currently locked in my basement signing over every penny he owns to you and our child,” I said flatly. “And he will never, ever come near either of you again.”
She looked away, staring out the window toward the gray waters of Lake Michigan, a solitary tear tracing a slow path down her cheek. The fight seemed to drain out of her, leaving behind a profound, bone-deep exhaustion.
“I was so cold, Roman,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “At that bus stop... I genuinely thought we were going to die out there. Just... the two of us.”
I stood up slowly, walked to the edge of the bed, and sat down on the mattress, carefully gathering her into my arms. For a fraction of a second, she stiffened against my chest, fighting the instinct to reject me. Then, with a shuddering breath, she collapsed into my embrace, burying her face in my shoulder as she finally, truly wept.
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I held her tightly, closing my eyes as I pressed my lips to her hair. I had failed to protect her once, blinded by the treachery of my own blood.
I swore to myself right then and there: it would never happen again.
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