Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Richard
A complete and utter bastard.
That's what I was in Natalie's mind.
As a husband, I'd failed spectacularly.
I stared at Natalie. Those blue eyes that usually sparkled with mischief now burned with ice-cold fury, boring into me like I was some kind of criminal scum.
In Natalie's mind, my way of solving problems was hiring street thugs to rough people up in back alleys? What the hell did she think I was? A mob boss? Some hothead gang leader who couldn't control his temper?
"So you're saying you'll make Andrew disappear?"
Christ. I was saying I had nothing to do with Andrew getting beaten up today!
I struggled to swallow the absurd mix of rage and wounded pride. "Natalie, you need to calm down. Or have you forgotten you're pregnant?"
"How can I be calm? You had someone beat up Andrew today.
Tomorrow it might be Emma. And then what?
Will it be me and the baby next?" Natalie's voice rose, her slender frame trembling, her face alarmingly pale.
I noticed her other hand pressed unconsciously against her belly.
That small gesture twisted something in my chest, anger giving way to sharper anxiety.
I wanted to grab her, shove her in the car, and get her away from this filthy mess.
Just then, a uniformed officer finished with another witness and headed our way. He glanced at Natalie's furious expression, then at me. Recognition flickered across his face, and his demeanor shifted to careful deference.
"Mr. Winston," the officer cleared his throat, "we've questioned witnesses and Andrew. This was a personal beef. The guys who jumped him are known troublemakers from the neighborhood. Andrew had a run-in with them last week at the Mustang—refused to take their requests, words were exchanged."
The meaning was crystal clear. This had nothing to do with me. Andrew brought this on himself.
"Hear that?" I turned to Natalie, sarcasm creeping into my voice even though I knew it would only make things worse. "Your friend's own mess. Nothing to do with me."
The anger on Natalie's face froze for a split second.
Sirens wailed closer. Paramedics rushed in with a stretcher and started examining Andrew. Natalie didn't respond. She spun around and dropped to Andrew's side, grabbing his uninjured hand, whispering urgently. The tenderness and concern in her eyes made mine sting.
The bastard even managed a weak smile, telling her, "I'm fine, don't worry."
Fuck fine.
I watched their clasped hands. All the frustration I'd been bottling up—the anxiety, the loss of control, the rage at being wrongly accused—erupted.
"Looks like he's not hurt that bad if he can still comfort you." My voice went cold. I stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. "Natalie, we're leaving. Let the cops and doctors handle this."
Natalie's head snapped up like a threatened animal. "Leave? Andrew got hurt because of me—"
"He got hurt because of his pathetic street charm!" I cut her off, patience gone. "And you need to think about yourself. And the baby."
Every mention of the baby drove a spike through me.
After all, this was Natalie's child with someone else. And that someone was Andrew—a man who showed zero sign of being father material.
Natalie went paler, but the fire in her eyes burned hotter.
She released Andrew's hand and stood, facing me.
Despite having to look up, she didn't back down an inch.
"Richard, I don't need your fake concern.
You're only saying this because you want me to leave with you.
But I won't go back. I refuse to let you trample my feelings anymore. "
"Watch your words, Natalie." I moved closer, voice grinding through clenched teeth. The cops and paramedics seemed to sense the tension, their movements quieting, eyes darting over. "When have I ever trampled your feelings? Everything I've given you—people would kill for it."
"Yes, kill for it!" She laughed, the sound uglier than crying. "So I should be grateful, right? Thank you for controlling my career, interfering with my social life, and now hurting my friends to 'remind' me to behave? Richard, this isn't living. It's captivity!"
Captivity. That word detonated something in me.
"Then what do you want, Natalie?!" I lost the last shred of composure, my voice echoing through the alley, drawing more stares. "You think that guy who can't even handle a few street punks can give you and your baby security? A future? Don't be naive!"
Natalie swayed slightly. Her voice dropped, trembling.
"You've got it backwards, Richard. I married you because I was naive. I was so naive I thought having a baby might fix our marriage. But now I'm not naive anymore! You never cared about me or the baby. So why do you keep demanding I come back? You just can't stand losing control!"
The mention of the child Natalie and I lost cracked open months of pent-up emotion.
"When did I say I didn't care about you and the baby?
Natalie, you never told me you were pregnant!
I didn't know what I'd lost until after the miscarriage!
Didn't I try to stop you when you filed for divorce?
Damn it, if I didn't care, would I have come to Las Vegas?
Would I accept another man's child as my heir?
I've compromised this far for you. Why do you keep trying to run? "
"Natalie, we were married two years, and it took you two months to get pregnant by someone else. You're the one who betrayed this marriage! All you need to do is fix this mistake. I promise not to hold it against you. What more do you want?"
Christ, I'd never lost it like this in public.
But this whole situation was driving me insane.
How could Natalie move on with someone else so fast after losing our baby? Did she love Andrew now? Was that why she was so desperate to leave? Freedom. My control. All excuses. The real reason was simple. Natalie had fallen for someone else.
That realization made me crazy with jealousy and reckless with words.
"Natalie, let me be clear. Staying with some useless guy like that, the kid won't amount to anything either. Better to just get rid of—"
Shit. Richard, what the hell are you saying?! No matter how jealous, how angry, that's her baby. You know losing the last one destroyed her. How could you—
I tried to backtrack, undo the damage. "I'm sorry, I—"
"Richard! How could you say that!" Natalie's chest heaved. "This is your child! You'd actually tell me to get rid of him? I was right about you. You could never be a good father. Divorcing you was the smartest decision I ever made!"
What was Natalie saying?
My child?
She was carrying my baby?
The noise of the alley, the flashing lights—everything vanished.
My world narrowed to Natalie's blazing blue eyes.
Her words were twin bombs exploding in my brain, leaving only white noise. My ears rang. Blood rushed to my head, then instantly froze. I stood rooted, unable to process the meaning.
"What did you just say?"
Natalie looked like those words had drained her completely. She looked away, lips trembling, maybe wanting to take it back. But it was too late.
"Natalie," I grabbed her shoulders, probably hurting her, but I couldn't help it. "Say that again. Whose baby is it?"
She tried to pull away. I held tighter, forcing her to look at me.
"Look at me! Answer me!"
She raised her eyes, tears clinging to her lashes. "Yours." She said it again, quietly but clearly. "The baby's yours, Richard. Always has been."
After the shock came overwhelming joy.
My child.
Mine and Natalie's.
Still alive, growing inside her. God...
But the joy lasted only a heartbeat before fury swallowed it.
"That miscarriage report..."
"Was fake." She closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her face.
Natalie had lied to me in the cruelest way possible. She let me believe we'd lost our child. Let me suffer through countless nights of guilt and pain. Let me accept that goddamn fiction about "Andrew's baby." Even made me say those terrible words just now.
"You lied to me." The words scraped out through clenched teeth, cold and bitter.
"You used a fake miscarriage report to get me to sign divorce papers.
You watched me suffer. Watched me compromise.
Even watched me prepare to accept you carrying another man's child. .. Natalie, you played me. Was it fun?"
She opened her eyes, tears flowing harder. "Yes! I lied! But that's because you never cared about me or this baby! When I was in the hospital almost losing our child, where were you? Shopping with another woman!"
"So you decided to run away with my child?
" I yanked her closer, close enough to see my distorted reflection in her pupils.
"Natalie, whatever lies happened before, whatever misunderstandings—one thing's certain now.
That's my baby. So from this moment until the birth, you're staying with me.
Nowhere else. Your escape plans end here. "
"No!" She struggled, pushing against me with all her strength. "Don't even think about it! We're divorced, Richard! You have no right to control me! I'm not going back with you! Never!"
"Then we'll remarry," I said coldly, half-forcing my arm around her waist, dragging her away from the chaos toward my car at the alley entrance. The driver had already opened the rear door.
"You're insane! I won't sign anything!" She kept fighting, kicking at me, but pregnancy and emotional exhaustion had weakened her. The resistance was feeble.
"You don't have a choice." I pushed her into the back seat and climbed in after her, telling the driver, "Airport. My private plane. Back to Los Angeles. Now."
The door slammed shut. Natalie lunged for the other door, found it locked, then turned and pounded my arms and chest like a trapped, desperate animal. "Let me out! This is kidnapping! Richard, you're a complete psycho! Bastard!"
I let her hit me. The blows didn't hurt. Only one thought occupied my mind—Natalie and the baby had to stay within reach, under my protection. No more accidents.
I leaned forward slightly and grabbed the unsigned documents from the front seat, tossing them onto the seat beside her.
"New prenup. And a legally binding arrangement for pregnancy and postpartum." I settled back, closing my eyes, pressing my throbbing temples.
God. My child with Natalie.
Even now, the reality hit with unreal force, making my heart pound erratically between joy and lingering anger.
I'd give this child the best education, endless wealth, everything I had.
"Sign it. The terms only benefit you. After the baby's born, you'll receive a guaranteed share of the Winston family trust, and—"
"I won't sign!" She didn't even look, grabbing the folder and tearing it in half with all her strength, throwing the pieces at me. "Go to hell, Richard! I want out of this car!"
I looked at the scattered pages. Didn't get angry. Actually smiled.
"Tear away. I made plenty of copies. There's a whole box in the trunk. You can keep tearing until we reach Los Angeles. Or until you change your mind."
"You..." She trembled with rage, pointing at me, speechless.
"Save your energy, Natalie." I turned toward the window, watching Las Vegas's garish neon blur into cold streaks of light. "For the baby. Getting worked up isn't good for you."
Saying "the baby" softened my voice involuntarily.
My baby. The thought struck again, bringing a tremor of strange, unfamiliar tenderness. But looking at her stubborn, pale profile, that softness froze over again.
"It's my baby too! I have the right to decide where he's born and how he lives!" She shot back hoarsely, but the fight had drained from her voice, leaving only helpless anger.
I slowly turned back, looking at her, my gaze dropping to the slight swell of her belly where our tiny life was growing.
"I'm this baby's father, Natalie. So from now on, I'm the one making the decisions."
This time, I wouldn't let my wife slip away with my child.
Not again.
Never.