Chapter 5
Valerie
Maria turned another page of her magazine without so much as glancing up.
"There's no need to shriek, Valerie. This is my home now. Have some manners."
"I asked you where my daughter is!" I lunged forward and snatched the magazine from her hands, hurling it to the floor.
That got her attention. Maria shot to her feet, eyes blazing, squaring up to me without flinching.
"What is wrong with you? You couldn't hold onto your own man, and now you're coming at me?"
"Tell me where Lily is!" I grabbed her wrist and squeezed, my nails biting into her skin.
"Let go of me, you lunatic!" She wrenched free and rubbed her reddened wrist, a cold smile curling her lips. "You want to know where the baby is? Fine. I'll tell you."
She folded her arms across her chest and looked down at me with open, vicious satisfaction.
"Jonathan decided that starting a new life with a screaming infant around was simply too much of a drag. So he drove her over to his mother's place. Just now."
The blood drained from my face.
His mother.
That woman in the suburbs — sharp-tongued, cold, contemptuous of me from the very first day Jonathan and I got together. She had never liked me. She had never liked Lily. She had looked me in the eye once and called my daughter a useless child.
How could Jonathan hand Lily to her?
"Has he lost his mind?" I spat, tears already burning my eyes. "Lily is three months old. She needs her mother."
"That's your problem." Maria sank back onto the sofa and reached for her tea, her tone effortlessly breezy. "Jonathan says that since you can't even support yourself, you're not fit to raise a child. At least at Camilla's she won't starve. If you want to see her, you can go out to the suburbs and beg. Although —"
She paused, savoring it.
"I'd go quickly, if I were you. You know what Camilla's temper is like. If the baby cries too much and wears her patience out — well. Who knows."
I bit down on my lower lip until I tasted blood.
I had no time to waste on this woman.
I grabbed my canvas bag and ran.
I made it to my car and stopped.
I didn't start the engine. The window was halfway down, and the cool autumn air pushed in around me. I forced myself to sit still and think.
Driving to the suburbs to confront Camilla wasn't an option. She despised me. She would never open the door.
And Lily was three months old. Still nursing. She couldn't go more than a few hours without me.
I had to get her back. Now.
My hands were trembling as I dialed Jonathan's number.
It rang for a long time before he picked up.
"Valerie?"
"Where have you taken Lily? She's still nursing!" My voice shook with a fury I could barely contain.
"Calm down. My mother will take care of her."
"She doesn't even like Lily! Jonathan, are you out of your mind? She's three months old —"
"I'm not the one who's out of their mind." His voice turned cool, languid, carrying the easy condescension of someone who knew they held all the cards. "I've told you already. If you'd just be reasonable about this — ask nicely — we could all live here together. Maria doesn't object. So what exactly is your problem?"
My jaw locked. Nausea rolled through me.
He was using our daughter as leverage.
He knew I couldn't walk away from Lily. So he was using her to back me into a corner — to force me to stay, to accept this arrangement, to become his wife in name while Maria occupied everything else.
"Come home, be sensible, and I'll bring Lily back tonight." He dangled the offer like bait.
I closed my eyes. Tears slipped down the sides of my face without a sound.
For Lily, I had no choice.
I couldn't leave my daughter in that woman's hands.
"Fine," I said. My voice came out hoarse, scraped raw. "Bring her home tonight."
"Was that so hard?" He gave a satisfied little laugh and hung up.
I sagged against the seat. Every ounce of strength left my body at once.
But I couldn't fall apart. Not yet. I had to hold onto the job at the Wolfe estate — it was the only real way out of this.
I found Lydia's number in my call history and dialed. I asked to speak with Magnus.
A few seconds later, his voice came through the line — low, rough, brooking no delay.
"Talk."
"Mr. Magnus, it's Valerie." I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, speaking quickly. "I'm so sorry. My ex-husband has taken my daughter. I have to stay at the apartment tonight and wait for him to bring her back. I may need to push the move back by two days."
Silence on the other end.
My heart climbed into my throat.
He was not a patient man. He might decide I was too much trouble and tell me not to bother coming back at all.
"I'll continue the daytime feedings without interruption," I added quickly, my palm damp against the phone. "Alvin's schedule won't be affected."
"Two days." The words landed like chips of ice. "Sort out your mess, Valerie. I don't wait."
The line went dead.
I let out a long, unsteady breath. Even that much was more than I'd expected from him.
I got out of the car and went back inside.
I had to stay. Had to see Lily come through that door with my own eyes.
The moment I walked into the living room, I felt it — a sharp, hostile gaze cutting across the room.
Maria was standing at the kitchen island, a glass of water in her hand, her eyes fixed on the phone I was still clutching.
"Who were you calling?" Her tone was that of a woman interrogating a suspect in her own home. "Were you complaining to Jonathan about me?"
"That's none of your business." I gave her a cold look and moved toward the sofa.
She followed.
She stepped in front of me, eyes full of suspicion and something uglier underneath — jealousy, barely disguised.
"You're a broke housewife with nothing to your name. Who could you possibly be calling? Are you seeing someone behind Jonathan's back?"
She reached for my phone.
"Back off!" I snapped, pulling the phone to my chest and shoving her hand away.
"Let me see it!" She came at me again, frantic, her sharp nails raking across the back of my hand as she grabbed for my arm. "Are you hiding assets? Trying to move money behind his back?"
"This is my private property, Maria. You have no right —"
The front door lock turned.
The door swung open.
Maria caught the movement at the edge of her vision.
The hands gripping my sleeve released instantly.
She let herself fall — throwing her weight backward in one fluid, deliberate motion, dropping hard to the floor, her knee catching the edge of the coffee table leg on the way down.
