Rain from the overnight storm clung to the ballistic windows of the penthouse, distorting the Manhattan skyline into a smeared canvas of pale gray.
Under the muted morning light, Christian paced the length of the dark oak floorboards. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers. The rhythmic, heavy sound of his footsteps echoed against the quiet of the study, mapping the intense, violent friction tearing through his mind.
"She filed a legal petition to claim custody of our unborn child."
He stopped near the edge of the glass coffee table, looking directly at Julianne. He laid the horrific reality out in plain, unvarnished text.
"She waited for an assassination squad to clear a path, and then she walked into a courtroom to legally harvest the collateral," Christian conti
