Chapter 6 - Blood on the Snow
The sudden quiet in the living room felt heavier than the storm outside.
Maren was looking at the shattered pieces of my phone, then up at me. There was no triumph in her expression, only a profound, haunting sadness.
"She was your mother, Everett," she whispered. "You gave up everything you worked fifteen years for in thirty seconds."
"I didn't give up anything that mattered," I said, kneeling before her chair again, resting my hands on the wooden armrests. "I should have done that three years ago. I let her dictate our wedding, our home, our calendar... I let her poison the only good thing I ever built."
Maren touched Leo’s cheek, her eyes glistening. "It's easy to make grand speeches when the adrenaline is pumping. But what happens on Monday, Everett? When the stock price drops? When the media finds out about the family feud? Will you look at this baby and see a blessing, or will you see the reason your empire started crumbling?"
"I don't give a damn about the stock price," I said, meeting her eyes without wavering. "Look at me, Maren. Look at me and tell me you truly believe I could ever regret having a son with you."
She searched my eyes for what felt like an eternity. The distrust that had been sown by months of isolation and Eleanor's venom was deep, but behind it, I saw the embers of the love we had once shared.
"I need proof, Everett," she said, her voice cracking. "Not words. Not promises. Proof."
"Name it."
"Stay here. Help me. No assistants, no private chefs, no PR team. Just you, me, and Leo for the next week. Learn how to be a father before you try to be a husband again."
"Done," I said instantly.
A knock echoed through the front door.
Both of us froze. The sun had barely risen over the snowdrifts, casting long shadows across the porch.
"Who could that be?" Maren asked, fear flashing in her eyes. "Nobody knows I live here except your mother's legal team."
A cold dread coiled in my stomach. I stood up, gesturing for Maren to take Leo into the bedroom. "Stay back. Don't come out until I tell you."
I crept toward the front door, pulling the curtain back an inch to peer outside.
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Parked in the snow-dusted driveway was a sleek black luxury sedan with dark tinted windows. And standing on the porch, wrapped in a fur coat with two burly private security guards behind her, was Eleanor Vance.
***
