Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Natalie
I was sprawled on the couch like a fish washed ashore.
The nausea had just passed, leaving my mouth sour and my body drenched in cold sweat.
Morning sickness, or in this case, night sickness, felt like God's cruel joke, specially designed to punish women who dared to reproduce.
I curled up in the corner of the couch, clutching a cushion, silently begging the tiny person inside me to give me a break for the hundredth time.
That's when the doorbell rang.
Emma said she might drop by tonight with the contract for next week's performance.
So I dragged myself off the couch and shuffled toward the door in my slippers. "Coming, coming. Emma, could you be a little gentler? I'm not feeling great tonight—" I was muttering as I pulled the door open. The second I saw who was standing there, every word died in my throat.
Richard stood there in a dark overcoat, perfectly tailored to his frame.
The Vegas night wind had messed up a few strands of his hair, leaving them scattered across his forehead, but he hadn't bothered to fix them.
He just stood there, shoulders sharp, his silhouette like a moving Greek statue in the dim hallway light.
God, it wasn't fair. Even now, I had to admit it. Richard's handsomeness had an edge to it, that ease bred by power and wealth. No one could resist him.
But what the hell was he doing here?
I grabbed the door instinctively and pushed hard.
The next second, Richard's palm hit the doorframe. No matter how hard I pushed after that, the door wouldn't budge an inch.
"Nightingale. No, Natalie." His voice was level, but the end dipped slightly with an unmistakable authority. "Not going to invite me in?"
Well, he wasn't pretending anymore either. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "We're divorced."
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
"Let me in to talk." He cut me off, stepping forward.
"No!"
"Hey, Natalie, look what I brought you!"
A voice came from behind Richard.
I looked past him instinctively. It was Andrew. I'd met him at a small concert. He was a guitarist. We'd occasionally talked about music, then collaborated on a new song, and our friendship had grown from there. He was one of the few people in Vegas I could count on.
Andrew didn't know I was pregnant. He thought I just had a bad stomach.
That's why he'd texted earlier, saying he'd bring over homemade apple pie and ginger candy to help.
Now he stood there in a forest-green sweater, collar casually turned up, light brown curls messy, those hazel eyes and faint freckles on his nose giving him a harmless, boyish air.
His eyes swept from Richard to my face, quickly reading my stiff expression. Then he stepped up, naturally positioning himself at an angle in front of me, half his body blocking me as he faced Richard.
"I'm Andrew. Natalie's friend." He addressed Richard directly, tone polite enough, but his eyes narrowed. "Who are you? It's pretty late to be standing at a lady's door, don't you think? Whatever it is can wait till morning."
I could feel the temperature around Richard drop ten degrees.
"Natalie, I don't care who he is. Make him leave." Richard's voice was ice.
Andrew froze for a second, then spoke up quickly. "Sir, I don't know what your relationship with Natalie is, but you just told me to leave. Let me correct that—you're the one standing at her door uninvited. So if anyone should go, logically, it should be you."
"Andrew, it's okay." I quickly tugged his sleeve. "I know him. Just go home..."
I didn't want to drag Andrew into this, especially not with Richard like this.
But Andrew clearly misread me. He thought I was scared, asking for help. He immediately pressed his hand over mine, then stood even more firmly in front of me.
Richard watched this. Said nothing. Sometimes silence itself is a kind of pressure. Most people would instinctively back down under that gaze—but Andrew didn't. He squared his shoulders even more, blocking me more completely.
Richard's expression darkened further. He didn't waste more words. With unstoppable force, he shoved Andrew aside and barged into my apartment.
"Hey! What the hell!" Andrew stumbled, the paper bag dropped, candy spilling out. He immediately flared up, chasing after him. "Who said you could come in! Get out!"
The tiny apartment felt suffocating the moment Richard entered.
He stood in the center of the living room like a lion that had wandered into a rabbit hole, completely out of place.
His gaze swept the room—the small dining table scattered with sheet music and chip bags, the guitar and keyboard in the corner, the crumpled blanket on the couch, and the prenatal vitamin bottle on the coffee table I hadn't put away yet.
His eyes paused on that bottle for half a second. A very brief half second. But my heart almost stopped.
Andrew was clearly enraged by Richard's dismissal and invasion. He pulled out his phone and started dialing. "This is trespassing! I'm calling the cops!"
"Andrew, no, don't!" I tried to stop him. Calling the police would only make things worse, especially for Andrew.
Richard looked at Andrew dialing and let out a cold laugh.
"Call the cops?" He repeated slowly. "Fine. I'd love to see whether the police will escort out the man who showed up at another man's wife's apartment late at night, or throw out the husband who has every right to be here."
God, what was Richard saying? We were divorced! Legally, we had nothing to do with each other! Had he lost his mind?
But by then, Andrew had already finished the call. He seemed not to have heard Richard's words and stepped between us again.
"Natalie, get back," Andrew said. "I've seen obsessed fans like this. Only the police can handle it."
He'd barely finished when a uniformed, gray-haired building manager appeared at the door, walkie-talkie in hand, expression stern. "What's going on here? We've gotten complaints from several neighbors about loud arguing, and someone said the police were being called? Who's the tenant here?"
"I am," I said immediately. "I'm Natalie Green, the renter of this apartment."
The manager looked at me, then at the two men clearly in a standoff. "And these two gentlemen? What's your relationship with them?"
"This is a misunderstanding." I pointed at Andrew. "This is my friend. He came to drop something off."
Then I looked at Richard. "This is..."
"A man who broke in illegally." Andrew cut in, addressing the manager. "Please make him leave."
"Natalie is my wife," Richard said, tone casual. "I'm here to see my wife. What's the problem?"
Andrew froze. He glanced at me, then sneered at Richard. "Are you dreaming, sir? I've known Natalie for two months. She's single. I suggest you leave now, or when the cops get here, trespassing alone will be enough to land you in a cell."
The manager heard "cops" and looked back and forth helplessly, finally addressing Richard. "Sir, from what I can see, this gentleman is the tenant's friend. You barging in really isn't appropriate, and the police have already been called, so maybe you should..."
Richard looked like he'd heard a joke. "Fine. Let's wait for the police."
They arrived faster than expected. Two uniformed officers walked down the narrow hallway, asking questions. Andrew immediately stepped forward, rapid-fire explaining how rudely Richard had forced his way in. Richard stood silent the whole time, like a cold statue, eyes heavy as they watched me.
Then one of the older officers shone his flashlight on Richard's face and suddenly froze. He squinted, looked more carefully, his expression changing. He quickly approached Richard, his manner becoming respectful, even nervous. "Mr. Winston? Is that you? Richard Winston?"
"It is."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Winston. I didn't realize it was you. This is?" The older cop asked tentatively, gaze moving between me, Andrew, and Richard.
"A family misunderstanding. Sorry to waste your time." Richard said coolly.
"No trouble at all!" The cop said immediately, using his eyes to silence his younger partner who looked ready to speak.
He turned to us, almost apologetically. "Ma'am, sir, seems like a misunderstanding.
We can't get too involved in private matters.
Work it out yourselves." With that, he nodded at Richard, then pulled his confused colleague away. Just left.
Andrew looked at the door in disbelief, then at Richard, then at me, his face full of question marks.
The manager also realized Richard was someone even the police didn't dare offend. He coughed awkwardly and quickly slipped away, too.
"Natalie, who the hell is he?" Even Andrew could tell this man's background was way beyond his imagination. "What's between you two? He's your husband?"
"He's my ex-husband. We're divorced." I closed my eyes tiredly, then opened them, looking at him pleadingly. "Andrew, give me some time to handle this myself, okay? I'll explain everything later. I promise."
Andrew looked at me, struggled for a moment, then finally glared hard at Richard and said quietly to me, "You have my number. If anything happens, call me anytime."
Andrew left. The living room held only Richard and me.
Silence crept back in, more dangerous than before. The nausea and emotional upheaval made my vision swim. I leaned against the wall to stay upright.
Richard slowly turned to face me. "Explain."
"Everything you've been doing these two months. And..." He almost ground out the last words. "That kid just now."
"I don't need to explain anything to you," I said. "We're divorced. You have no right to barge into my home, no right to interrogate me, and no right to be rude to my friends."
"Friends." Richard chewed on the word, letting out a derisive laugh. "Friends bring thoughtful care packages to your door in the middle of the night? Look at you like that?"
He moved closer, voice dropping. "Natalie, don't take me for a fool. You've had your fun these two months. This childish rebellion is over. Now go pack your things and come back with me. Immediately."
"I'm not going back!" I shouted, two months of suppressed emotion—hurt, anger, fear, and pregnancy hormones—erupting like a volcano.
"Who the hell do you think you are? God?
You can just decide my life? Show up whenever, order me around, treat me like your property?
I'm done, Richard! Done with your control, your arrogance, done being that pretty, quiet Mrs. Winston who never makes mistakes!
I'm free now! And you, right now, immediately, get out of my apartment! "
Richard stared at me, then stepped even closer. His huge shadow fell over me. "You call this freedom? Living in a place not even worth Blackwood's storage room—this is what you wanted? Look at yourself. Pale, dark circles under your eyes, so thin a breeze could blow you away."
He paused, voice lowering, tone like coaxing a child. "Natalie, even tantrums have limits."
"Yes. This is exactly the life I want." I stared into his eyes, enunciating each word.
"Richard, I can tell you clearly—leaving Blackwood Manor, leaving you, was the best, most clear-headed decision I ever made!
These two months, I've earned money singing, done whatever I want.
It's a thousand times, ten thousand times better than being your wife! "
Richard looked stung by those words, his gaze turning darker.
He suddenly grabbed my arm, shoving me back.
My spine hit the door. Richard leaned down, his burning chest nearly pressed against mine, hot breath laced with anger and that familiar male scent that made my soul tremble, completely trapping me between him and the door.
"You've lowered yourself to this filthy place, doing this degrading work. Your father's company is drowning in a cash flow crisis, your whole family is desperate because of your wrong decision... and even then, you won't come back? Does being my wife make you that miserable?"
Again. When would Richard understand I married him because I loved him, not because of my father or Green Technology?
"Even if Green Technology goes bankrupt tomorrow, I will never go back to you.
Blackwood Manor is a cage. My father's house isn't any better.
I'm done going back to LA to be a trophy, to be a tool!
" I was panting, venting all my fury without restraint.
"And how many times do I have to say it?
We're divorced, Richard! Legally, emotionally, in every sense, it's over!
Even if I get with someone else, even if I fall in love with someone tonight, even if I sleep with someone else, you can't do anything about it! You have no right!"
The living room went completely silent.
Outside, the Vegas night still roared, neon lights staining the sky orange-red, leaking through the curtain gaps, falling on Richard's profile, making his features look especially sharp.
"Who do you want to sleep with?" Richard growled.
Damn it. After all that silence, that's what he focused on?