Chapter 5 - The Math of Retribution
“Vincent, don’t listen to her!” Sophia hissed, grabbing his arm again as soon as the crowd’s attention dispersed. “She’s playing games. If that’s really Anna, she’s cruel! She hid our child—*your* child—for three years just to humiliate you!”
Vincent wrenched his arm from her grasp so violently that Sophia stumbled.
“Don’t touch me,” he growled, his voice a low, feral vibration.
Sophia blinked in shock. “Vincent?”
“Three years, Sophia,” Vincent said, staring at the empty space where Anna had stood. “You told me she was already unconscious before you reached the exit. You told me you saw the bulkhead collapse on her before I pulled you out. You told me there was no chance!”
“I… I thought there wasn't!” Sophia stammered, panic fluttering behind her eyes. “It was smoke and chaos! I was terrified!”
Vincent didn't stay to hear her excuses. He turned on his heel and strode toward the private corridor leading to the VIP suites. Two security guards stepped into his path, but Vincent didn't slow down.
“Mr. Moretti, this area is private—”
“Move,” Vincent commanded with such venomous authority that both men hesitated. He shoved the double doors open and entered the dimly lit terrace lounge.
Anastasia was standing by the stone balustrade, looking out over the twinkling skyline of Central Park. Julian Vance was absent; Leo was sitting at a nearby velvet booth, happily playing with a tablet under the watchful eye of a female bodyguard.
The bodyguard reached for her blazer, but Anastasia held up a single gloved finger without turning around.
“Leave us, Elena,” Anastasia commanded softly.
The bodyguard nodded and escorted Leo through an adjoining private exit. When the door clicked shut, only the two of them remained under the cold autumn stars.
“He is mine, isn’t he?” Vincent demanded, his chest heaving. “Leo. He was born six months after the crash. The timing is exact. He has my eyes, Anna. He has my jawline.”
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Anastasia turned around slowly. The playful, amused mask from the ballroom was gone. In its place was a woman forged in fire.
“He is mine,” she said, her voice lethal. “Every breath he takes belongs to me. You gave up your right to his existence the second you chose Sophia Carter’s survival over his.”
