Who dares?
1166 Words
Back in the office, the sound of leather shoes echoed against marble. Martins walked into Christian's office, a blue file clutched tightly in his hands. "This is everything we could dig up," he said, placing it on the desk.
Christian, who had been reviewing another contract, froze. The name on the cover hit him like a bullet. Giselle Romano. He flipped through the pages quickly-her age, twenty-seven.
A scandal on her wedding anniversary. Her sudden disappearance five years ago. His chest tightened. That night... He traced the timeline, the details. His jaw clenched. It was her. The woman he had slept with. And she had a son. Liam Romano. Christian's voice was sharp.
"Where's the rest? His photo. His records. Everything about the boy."
Martins shifted uncomfortably. "About that... sir, we couldn't get anything. Every time we tried accessing the files, the system was... hacked."
Christian's eyes narrowed. "Hacked?" He repeated the word slowly, dangerous.
"Yes, sir. Even when we brought in Miko, our best. He was shut out in minutes."
For a moment, silence pressed on the room.
Then Christian's lips curved into a cold chuckle. "Well, well. Either she has a very powerful backer... or there's more to her than I thought."
But the idea of another man protecting her made his blood boil. His knuckles turned white against the edge of his desk.
Just then, a mocking clap rang out from the door. A tall, blond man in a tailored blue suit strolled in, clapping slowly. His grin was sharp. "Christian Locke. Why the hell didn't you tell us you had a son?"
Christian's head snapped up. Martins looked equally confused.
The man, Lewis, laughed at their faces. "Relax. No need to panic. I just saw them leaving the lobby. Woman hugging the boy like her life depended on it. Five years old, maybe. Around the same time you disappeared that night, eh?"
Christian shot to his feet, snatching his car keys. His blood pounded in his ears.
"Christian," Lewis blocked the door, smirking, "Don't leave yet. Do the math. Five years old. Five years ago. Care to explain? When did you get married? How could you get married without informing me? Are we not friends?"
"Lewis," Christian's voice was lethal, "get out of my way." Turning to face Martins, Christian barked an order, "Find out where they are, now!"
He shoved past. Lewis stumbled, laughing. "Ha! The boys will love this."
⸻
Meanwhile, across town, in one of the city's most renowned restaurants—Aurum Royale-Giselle, Alessia, and little Liam were seated at a private corner.
"Mommy, can I have the chocolate soufflé?" Liam's bright eyes danced as he studied the menu.
Giselle smiled faintly, brushing his hair back. "Only if you finish your vegetables first."
Alessia smirked. "And I'm ordering wine. I think we both deserve it." The light conversation was abruptly shattered by a cold, familiar voice that sounded rather, shocked.
"Oh my goodness. Is that..." The glass slipped slightly in Giselle's hand before she steadied it.
Slowly, Giselle raised her head. Sylvia froze. The glass in her hand trembled, the wine sloshing dangerously close to her designer dress. She didn't rush-she stopped dead, her face draining of color until her makeup looked like a mask on a corpse.
"G-Giselle?" Sylvia's voice cracked, the delight she tried to fake coming out as a strangled wheeze.
Douglas stepped forward, but his posture was stiff, his eyes darting around the room as if checking for a trap. He looked at the woman he had personally tied up and thrown into a trunk, and his throat bobbed. He leaned in, his voice a frantic, low hiss meant only for her. "How are you here? You... you should have stayed dead."
Alessia tensed instantly, motioning for Liam to stay close.
Giselle's lips curled into a razor-edged smile. "What's wrong? Upset you didn't finish the job? Or scared that I'll come for what belongs to me?"
The air shifted. Patrons began to notice, whispers stirring across tables.
Douglas's eyes shifted from Giselle to the boy sitting beside her. He stiffened. He traced the curve of Liam's eyes, the shape of his nose, and the defiant set of his jaw. It was like looking at a miniature version of the woman he had tried to destroy.
The resemblance was undeniable. A cold sweat broke out on Douglas's neck. If she wasn't barren, his entire justification for the past five years was a lie.
Panic flared in his chest, turning into a toxic, loud aggression. He had to make the crowd believe she was a fraud before she could expose him. He pointed a trembling finger at Liam, his voice rising to a mocking shout.
"And who is this bastard?!" Douglas roared. "We all know you're a barren b***h, Giselle! Did you steal this kid to try and scam your way back into my life? Or is he the result of that 'anniversary' fun you had with a stranger? No man would ever want a defective woman like you!"
Giselle stood slowly, wine glass in hand, twirling the crimson liquid as she stalked toward him.
Her steps were deliberate, predatory. The word sank like an old blade. Five years ago, it had destroyed her. But today, it sharpened her resolve. "Why does it matter whose child he is?"
Giselle leaned in, her voice a lethal whisper that cut through his smugness. "You spent two years calling me barren, Douglas. But looking at Liam... it makes me wonder. Maybe the problem wasn't my womb. Maybe it was your manhood. Is that why Sylvia looks so frustrated lately?"
Gasps rippled across the room. Heads turned. Murmurs filled the restaurant. "Isn't that Douglas Rowan?"
"Who is the woman he's arguing with?"
"Did she just say infertile?"
Douglas's face turned scarlet.
Spittle flew as he shouted, "Don't twist it, Giselle! You cheated on me. On our wedding anniversary! You humiliated me in front of everyone."
The crowd recoiled, whispers turning to disgusted murmurs.
Alessia slammed her palms on the table and stormed forward. The c***k of her slap echoed across the restaurant, silencing the room. "You shameless bastard," she spat.
She grabbed Giselle's wine and poured it over Douglas's suit. Red streaks ran down his expensive fabric. "If anyone here needs reminding-it was you and her conniving sister who set Giselle up! You ruined her life!"
Douglas's face twisted with rage, ignoring the sweet smell that leaked out of his suit. "So what?! Giselle is a slut! And that brat-whoever he belongs to-is a filthy bastard!"
Sylvia caught on, her fear turning into a shrill, desperate laugh. "That's right! Everyone knows you couldn't conceive. You must have kidn*pped him. You're not just a slut, Giselle-you're a criminal!"
The crowd erupted in whispers again. Giselle's hands trembled, her fury rising. She opened her mouth to speak- But a deep, lethal voice sliced through the chaos.
"Who the hell dares," the voice said, low and absolute, "to slander the woman under my protection?"
- Writer
