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Chapter 7 - The Confrontation

Dr. Evelyn Reed’s clinic on the Upper East Side was private, discreet, and guarded. But Nolan had spent years bribing his way into places he didn't belong.

Laurel had just finished her thirty-two-week ultrasound. The nurse had printed out three glossy images of the baby’s profile—chubby cheeks, delicate fingers, a strong, rhythmic heartbeat. Laurel was smiling, holding the photographs against her chest, when she stepped into the private rear waiting room.

Nolan was sitting there.

Laurel’s smile died instantly. She took a step back, her hand moving protectively over her stomach.

“You’ve gained weight,” Nolan said, standing up. His suit was immaculate, but dark circles shadowed his eyes. “You look healthy.”

“Get out, Nolan,” Laurel said, keeping her voice dead level. “I have a restraining order.”

“That order prevents me from harassing you, Laurel. I’m here to check on my child.” He stepped toward her, his gaze dropping to her rounded belly. For a second, something raw and possessive flickered in his eyes. “You’ve gone too far with this. The press, Vance, the threats against Pier 42. It ends now.”

“I’m not threatening anything. I am protecting what is mine.”

“Nothing is yours without me!” Nolan’s voice cracked with suppressed rage. “You think you can raise my heir in some decaying Brooklyn brownstone? Living off freelance crumbs? I will buy every judge in Manhattan, Laurel. I will declare you emotionally unfit. Camille’s father has connections in the appellate court. You will lose this baby before she takes her first breath.”

Laurel didn't flinch. She looked him straight in the eyes, her heart beating with cold, furious clarity.

“You don't care about this baby,” she whispered. “You care about your reflection. You care that for the first time in your life, someone walked away from you and didn't look back.”

“Laurel—”

“Touch me, or take one more step toward me,” Laurel said, pointing to the security camera directly above them, “and the police will arrest you before you hit the street. Camille’s father won't like bailing out his premier partner on felony harassment charges.”

Nolan froze. He saw the cold resolve in her gaze—the utter absence of the soft, compliant girl he had manipulated for years.

“You’ll regret this,” Nolan hissed.

May you like

“I only regret five years of my life,” Laurel replied, stepping past him into the safety of the clinic staff.

***

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