Reclaiming Mrs. Wolfe

Chapter 5

The Metropolitan Museum of Art was a fortress of glass and gold, crawling with the world’s most powerful vultures. Every camera lens was a sniper rifle, and I was the target.

"Smile, Grace," Julian whispered, his hand firm on the small of my back. "Show them we’re the new era."

I forced my lips into a curve, but my stomach was a lead weight. I could feel the microscopic life inside me—a biological ticking time bomb that threatened to blow my revenge to pieces. If Ethan found out I was pregnant, the "Ninety-Day" rule wouldn't just be about the company. Under the archaic "Wolfe Lineage" bylaws, he could petition for full conservatorship over my health and finances until the child was born.

I caught my reflection in a passing champagne tray. I looked like a queen. I felt like a fugitive.

"There he is," Julian muttered, his posture stiffening.

Ethan stood at the top of the grand staircase, flanked by board members. He wasn't looking at the art. He was looking at me. His eyes raked over my body, not with the cold indifference of a husband, but with the predatory focus of a man sensing a shift in the wind.

The middle of the night was a slow-motion collision.

The charity auction began, and the tension between the two brothers turned the air electric. Julian bid a hundred thousand on a vintage sculpture. Ethan instantly tripled it. It wasn't about the art; they were bidding on the right to stand next to me for the photo op.

I slipped away toward the balcony, needing the frigid New York air to clear the nausea.

"You're pale, Grace."

I didn't need to turn around to know the voice. It was deep, resonant, and currently dripping with an unwanted familiarity. Ethan stepped out into the shadows of the balcony, closing the glass doors behind him.

"It’s a long night, Ethan. Go back to your bidders," I said, clutching the stone railing.

"You haven't touched a drop of alcohol all evening. Not even the '96 vintage you used to love." He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing mine. "And you're standing differently. Protective. Bracing yourself."

"I'm tired of your voice, if that's what you're sensing."

He ignored the jab, moving so close I could feel the heat radiating from his chest. "I saw the way you looked at Julian tonight. You don't love him. You're using my brother as a human shield because you're afraid of what happens when we're alone."

"I am not afraid of you," I hissed, turning to face him.

"Then why is your heart racing?" He reached out, his hand hovering over my waist. I flinched, and his eyes narrowed, flashing with a sudden, terrifying realization. He looked at my face, then down at my stomach, his expression shifting from arrogance to a raw, trembling shock. "Grace... what did you do?"

"I built a life without you," I said, my voice shaking. "Now get out of my way."

"The physical," he whispered, his grip tightening on the railing. "Silas mentioned a medical complication. I thought it was a legal trick. But you... you're glowing in a way that has nothing to do with these lights."

"Grace? Everything okay?"

Julian’s voice cut through the darkness as he pushed open the balcony doors. He looked between us, his face flushing with defensive anger. "Ethan, I told you to stay away from her."

"Julian, stay out of this," Ethan said, his voice strangely hollow. He didn't look at his brother. He kept his eyes locked on mine, a silent battle raging behind them. He had the power to ruin me right here. One word to Julian, one word to the press, and I would be back under his thumb by morning.

"I’m taking her home," Julian said, grabbing my hand.

I started to follow Julian, my heart hammering against my ribs. I thought I had made it. I thought the secret was safe for one more night.

"Wait," Ethan called out.

We stopped. Julian turned, his jaw set. "What now, Ethan? More threats?"

Ethan stepped forward into the light. He looked older, the mask of the untouchable CEO finally cracking. He looked at Julian, then at me, and I saw the moment he made a choice—a choice that was far more dangerous than an outright attack.

"I’m stepping down," Ethan said.

The world seemed to tilt. Julian gasped. "What?"

"I’m resigning as CEO of Wolfe Media, effective immediately," Ethan repeated, his voice steady but dead. "I’m handing my voting shares over to the Estate Trustee. But on one condition."

He looked directly at me, a dark, obsessive fire in his eyes.

"The ninety-day cohabitation doesn't happen at the penthouse. We go to the estate in upstate New York. The one with the private medical wing. Just Grace and me. No press. No Julian."

Julian stepped forward, incensed. "Like hell she is! Grace, don't listen to him—"

"Julian, shut up," Ethan snapped, before turning back to me. He leaned in, whispering so only I could hear: "I know, Grace. And if you want me to keep Julian from finding out that he’s been playing 'daddy' to my child for the last two years, you’ll get in the car.

Now."

My hand went to my stomach, my knuckles white. I looked at Julian’s confused, innocent face, then at the man who was currently holding my entire future hostage.

"Julian," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Go home. I have to go with him."