Claimed by Three Billionaires

Chapter 3 – Selene’s POV

We had been in Julian’s penthouse for a month, and every day he arrived with something new for Theo and me. At first, they were harmless details: a teddy bear, a set of wooden blocks, a few pieces of clothing. But soon the gifts became excessive: an Italian-designed crib, the latest model stroller, children’s books bound in leather, designer dresses, exclusive handbags… he even hired a pianist to play just for Theo.

What anyone else would have seen as a gesture of care, to me felt increasingly unsettling. Julian always claimed it was on Nathan’s orders, but deep down I knew my cousin had nothing to do with it. It was Julian who decided everything, who pulled the strings with a purpose I still couldn’t decipher. And the worst part wasn’t the gifts, but his insistence that I shouldn’t go out alone with Theo, as if he wanted to keep us locked away in a gilded cage. Maybe that’s why I rarely used what he gave me—and that resistance was beginning to draw his attention.

“Selene, why aren’t you wearing the clothes I brought for you again?” he asked one evening, coming home to find me still in the same outfit from the shelter.

I shrugged, trying to downplay the situation, just as I did every day.

“If you don’t like what I picked, tomorrow we can go to a*****e and you can buy whatever you want.”

“That’s not necessary,” I murmured, my thanks barely audible.

His gaze swept over me with a dangerous calm, and a shiver ran through me before he could say anything more. Then, a voice rang out behind us, slicing through the tension in the air:

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you, Julian. That’s why she doesn’t want to wear what you bring her.”

I froze. That voice… it couldn’t be. And yet, it was.

Grayson. Grayson Devereux. Another one of the boys who had turned my childhood into torment. What was he doing here? Were they still friends after all these years? I took a deep breath, reminding myself this wasn’t my home, that I had no say in who came and went.

“It’s not like she likes you that much either, as you can see,” Julian replied with absolute calm as Grayson closed the door.

“At least I’m sure she likes me more than Ethan,” Grayson shot back with a half-smile, his eyes never leaving me.

Bianca, one of the maids, hurried to take their coats and bowed with flawless deference.

“The usual, sir?” she asked, staring at him with shameless fascination.

Grayson only nodded, not even sparing her a glance. His eyes stayed locked on me, and the shiver that ran through me was identical to the one Julian had provoked just moments before.

“Won’t you greet me, Selene?” he finally asked, his voice deep, cutting through the air.

I didn’t answer. My throat was dry, words stuck in my chest, my hands trembling against the seam of my clothes. I didn’t know what to say—or how to hold his gaze. Then, from the audio monitor on the table, Theo’s cry rang out. That sound yanked me out of the trance, snapping me back to reality. Without a second thought, and not caring if I seemed rude, I stood and left the room. Because for me, nothing—and no one—was more important than my child.

When I returned with Theo in my arms, I found Julian and Grayson locked in a silent conversation, a wordless battle that my presence cut short at once.

“Hello, Grayson. It’s nice to see you,” I finally said. With Theo in my arms, it was easier to feign composure. Yet my greeting seemed to unsettle him; his expression hardened, as if the mere sight of me as a mother stripped away his humor.

“Well, I suppose you two need privacy,” I murmured, aware that my return had abruptly ended whatever they had been discussing. Business, surely. Money.

“Nonsense,” Julian interjected, stepping closer. Theo, delighted to see him, stretched out his little hands.

The gesture didn’t escape Grayson. His disbelief was clear. Was it really so hard for him to imagine me as a mother?

“I know you haven’t had dinner,” Julian said, ignoring his friend’s presence as though he were air. “We’ll eat.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I replied, sharper than I intended. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but I’m sure you two have things to discuss. The last thing I want is to interrupt.”

“We’ll dine together,” he said firmly, leaving no room for discussion.

There was something about Julian that always threw me off balance. His authority was undeniable, as firm as Edmund’s… but different. Never rude, never cruel. It was as if he only wanted to keep me safe, as though every decision was meant to guide me toward what he believed was right. The most disconcerting part was that most of his demands revolved around my wellbeing and Theo’s. And yet, deep inside, I couldn’t shake the certainty that everything came with a price. And I feared the day I would have to pay it.

“I want whiskey,” Grayson suddenly declared, his eyes still fixed on me and Theo, as if he had been holding his breath until then.

“You’ll have it after dinner,” Julian replied in a clipped tone.

The table was set. Bianca and another maid brought the dishes with the quiet efficiency of people who knew better than to disturb men like them. The four of us sat down, though Theo stayed nestled in my lap throughout the meal, drawing the occasional smile from Julian with every fidget.

The conversation started light. Grayson asked about Theo, joked about how quickly he would grow, complained about Manhattan traffic. I answered politely, offering no more than necessary. It was obvious he wanted to pull me into something more personal, testing the waters.

“Tell me, Selene,” he said suddenly, his tone making the fork tremble in my hand, “how does it feel… being a widow?”

The question cut through the table like a blade. I lifted my gaze and found both of them staring at me, waiting.

“It’s… something you learn to live with,” I answered at last, my voice low, polite. I forced a smile and quickly shifted the subject. “But tell me, Grayson—when you arrived you mentioned Ethan. So… the three of you are still friends?”

Grayson leaned back, a shadow of a smile curving his lips.

“For life. Although right now… it’s a bit complicated.”

“Complicated? What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

Julian cut in before his friend could answer.

“Business.” His tone was firm, final—like a door closing.

I nodded, though the answer didn’t convince me in the least. Still, the dinner continued, every word measured, every gesture heavy with unspoken weight.

When it was over, I set my cutlery down and stroked Theo’s back as he nestled against my chest.

“I’ll go rest with Theo in the guest room,” I announced.

“It’s your room, not a guest room,” Julian corrected immediately.

“Thank you,” I murmured, without looking at him, holding my son tighter.

I turned to Grayson, determined to keep my farewell as polite as my greeting.

“Good night, Grayson.”

He held my gaze a beat too long and, in an unsettling gesture, said:

“You look beautiful as a mother.”

I froze. Of all people, I never would have expected those words from him. As a child, mocking my appearance had been his favorite pastime. And now this? I couldn’t make sense of it.

I only nodded with a courteous smile, said nothing more, and walked away. Confusion lingered with every step until I closed the door behind me.

Hours passed before my inner alarm woke me, urging me to rise. Theo was about to stir for a feeding. It amazed me how, even on demand, my little treasure had begun setting his own rhythms without realizing it.

I prepared myself, and as soon as I cradled him in my arms, he grew restless. Quickly, I uncovered my breast so he could latch and feed. As he did, I stroked his soft hair and, in a whisper, sang an improvised melody:

“Sleep peacefully, my darling, in my arms you’ll always find your home.”

His breathing slowed to match the rhythm, and for a moment, I allowed myself to feel peace. But then I felt it—that weight of being watched.

I lifted my gaze and saw him: Julian, standing in the doorway, motionless, as if he had been there far longer than I wanted to admit. The room was dark, but I knew he had seen me.

“How long have you been there?” I asked, alarmed, fumbling for the blanket at my side.

He stepped closer, his voice low and steady.

“There’s no need to cover yourself. What you’re doing is… truly beautiful.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, tangled with confusion. Still, I pulled the blanket to me, but Julian, with unexpected gentleness, slipped it from my hands. That tenderness disarmed me more than anything else could.

Theo nursed quietly, oblivious, while Julian leaned in, resting his head against my legs. His nearness, the brush of his breath against my skin, made my heart pound wildly.

“I love being here with both of you,” he murmured. “Just let me stay a little longer. I promise I won’t look until you’re done.”

The words broke through my defenses, and before I could stop myself, the question I had avoided for weeks spilled out.

“Nathan didn’t send you, did he?”