Chapter 6
Valerie
"Ah!" Maria clutched her ankle and let out a wail so pitiful it could have convinced anyone, tears flooding her eyes on cue.
Jonathan had just walked through the door. He didn't stop to take off his coat — he dropped his briefcase where he stood and crossed the room in three strides.
"Maria! Are you all right?" He dropped to one knee and gathered her into his arms, his face a picture of alarm.
"Jonathan…" She pressed her face into his shoulder and cried with exquisite, wounded helplessness. "I was only trying to check on Valerie — she seemed upset, so I asked who she was calling — and she just flew into a rage and pushed me down…"
I stood where I was and watched this performance with cold, clear eyes. The absurdity of it was almost impressive.
"I didn't push her," I said, keeping my voice even. "She let go on her own. She was trying to grab my phone."
"Enough!" Jonathan's head snapped up. The look he turned on me could have curdled milk.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Valerie?" He jabbed a finger in my direction, a vein standing out on his forehead. "You can't survive on your own, so you take it out on Maria? She was being kind to you, and you put your hands on her?"
"I said. I didn't push her."
I pressed my nails into my palms.
"I watched her fall! Did she throw herself on the floor?" He wasn't listening. He helped Maria to her feet and turned back to me, pointing at my face like he was issuing a verdict. "Apologize to Maria. Right now. Or you won't be seeing Lily tonight."
Apologize.
I bit down hard. The taste of blood spread across my tongue.
I looked at this man — the man I had loved for five years. He was standing over me like a judge on a bench, using my three-month-old daughter as collateral, demanding I bow my head to his mistress.
Every part of me that had any pride left was fighting against it.
But Lily was still at Camilla's.
Three months old. Without me. How would she sleep tonight?
I closed my eyes. I swallowed everything down — the rage, the humiliation, all of it — and opened them again.
"I'm sorry, Maria." My voice came out flat and hollow, like someone else was speaking through me. "I shouldn't have pushed you."
Maria leaned against Jonathan's chest. The corner of her mouth curved up in a slow, satisfied smile.
But she wasn't finished.
"Jonathan," she said, tugging at his sleeve, her eyes sliding to the phone still in my grip. Her voice turned sweetly plaintive. "She was being so secretive about that call. Wouldn't let me near the phone. What if she's been talking to some man behind your back? Or moving money around?"
Jonathan's expression darkened. He walked toward me.
"Give me the phone."
"No." I stepped back.
Lydia's name was in that call log. Magnus's too.
If Jonathan found out where I was working — and with him, there was no question of what he'd do — he would show up at the Wolfe estate and ruin everything. That job was the only real way I had of getting Lily back for good. I could not lose it.
My retreat was all the confirmation Jonathan needed.
He lunged. His hand clamped around my wrist and twisted.
"Ah —!" Pain shot up my arm. My fingers went limp and the phone dropped straight into his hand.
"Jonathan, please — give it back." My eyes were burning, and I made a grab for it. "That's my new employer's number. I just got this job, please don't — please don't ruin this for me—"
Jonathan laughed and ignored me completely. He unlocked the phone and handed it directly to Maria.
Maria raised an eyebrow and opened the recent calls. "'Mr. Magnus.' Sounds like an old man's name."
She hit redial without a moment's hesitation. Then put it on speaker.
The phone rang.
My heart stopped. Cold sweat broke out across my skin.
If Magnus picked up — if Maria started talking — a man like that, with his zero tolerance for complications, would fire me on the spot. No question.
God. Please. Don't answer.
Whether it was luck or something else, the call rang out. No one picked up.
Maria gave a little pout, mildly disappointed. She tossed the phone back to me like it was trash, then stepped close — close enough that only I could hear.
"Lucky you," she said quietly, her voice dropping to a murmur. "Stay in line, Valerie. Next time you make my life difficult, I'll throw both you and that little brat out on the street. Are we clear?"
I held the phone so tightly my knuckles went white.
I didn't say a word.
Jonathan came up behind Maria and slid an arm around her waist. "Don't waste your energy on her, darling. She's not worth it."
"You're always so good to me." Maria turned into him, looping her arms around his neck.
Right there in the living room, in front of me, they kissed.
The wet, self-satisfied sound of it filled the apartment's silence like something rotten.
My stomach heaved. Nausea rose in my throat.
I could not stay in this apartment for one more second.
"I'm going to pick up some groceries." I grabbed my canvas bag and walked out without looking back.
The cold air at the bottom of the stairs hit me like a clean slap. I stood still for a moment and let it reach my lungs.
I started walking with no particular direction, running through the same calculations over and over: how to get through tonight, how to get Lily back.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Lydia.
I answered immediately.
"Miss Valerie," she said, her voice tight. "The young master has started crying again. He won't take anything. The master is asking if you can come in."
I didn't hesitate. "I'm on my way."
Half an hour later, I was back inside the Wolfe estate.
Alvin was crying so hard in the crib that he could barely catch his breath between sobs.
I didn't stop to think. I lifted him out, settled into the chair, and opened my blouse.
The moment he latched on and began to swallow in long, hungry pulls, the room went quiet.
I kept my head down and rubbed slow circles on his back, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.
Lily. What is she doing right now? Is she crying? Has Camilla even bothered to mix formula for her?
"You look terrible."
The low, unhurried voice came from directly above me.
I startled and looked up. Magnus was standing in front of me — I hadn't heard him come in. He had changed into a black turtleneck, hands in the pockets of his suit trousers, those gray-blue eyes trained on me with an unblinking steadiness that made it feel like he could see straight through whatever composure I had left.
I pulled the front of my blouse together with one hand and managed something that was meant to be a smile.
"I'm fine, Mr. Magnus."
"Your face is white. Your hair is a mess." He frowned — barely, but it was there. His tone gave nothing away. "You've run into some trouble."
A pause.
"If you need assistance, I can provide it."
