Chapter Twenty-Six The Bargain
Christian
O liver’s giggles fill the air and act like a balm of sorts on my bruised and busted heart. It’s a small relief and I’m clinging to it like a lifeline. I’m playing with Oliver in the living room, building block towers that he knocks down with an infectious laugh. His happiness is the only thing I’ve been clinging to lately, especially with everything that’s happened with Haven.
She’s been distant since her mom died. I know she’s occupied with planning Leila’s funeral and dealing with everything that comes with the passing of a loved one, but it’s more than that. Her concern that our marriage has lost meaning now that her mom’s gone makes me anxious. She hasn’t asked for an annulment yet, but what if she does? What do I do then? I can’t force her to stay married to me, but I don’t want to let her go.
For now, I’m giving her space and praying that she decides to come back to me. At least Theresa has been lying low since the wedding. Hopefully, she’s overwhelmed with guilt for what happened, but that might be asking too much of someone like her.
When I hear that familiar, grating voice, I realize I’m right in that regard.
"Christian, I didn’t expect your house to look so… domesticated. You don’t even have security guards to keep unwanted visitors away. That’s a little careless, don’t you think?"
I turn and there she is—Theresa, standing in the doorway with her mother behind her, both of them oozing the kind of artificial grace they’ve perfected. Theresa with her bleached-blonde hair, perfectly applied makeup, and clothes so perfectly put together it’s like she’s walked out of a magazine shoot.
Agnes, on the other hand, has always reminded me of a statue—cold, tall, and unyielding. She’s aged gracefully, if you can call it that, with short silver hair that’s always perfectly styled with not a strand out of place. Her face is lightly wrinkled, just enough to show her years, but it doesn’t soften her. Nothing about her is soft. Even her pale blue eyes, the same color as Theresa’s, are sharp and calculating, as though they’re constantly measuring everything around her, sizing up the world to see how it can be bent to her will.
She moves with a kind of elegance that’s almost robotic. There’s no warmth in her demeanor, no real humanity in the way she speaks or interacts. Every time she enters a room, it feels like the temperature drops a few degrees. She doesn’t say much, but when she does, it’s always with purpose—each word chosen carefully, cutting when it needs to be, sweet when she’s trying to manipulate the situation.
Agnes has always been the power behind Theresa, the driving force of her ambition and greed. I’ve known that from the beginning. She’s the one who taught Theresa how to play these games, how to wear different faces depending on what she wants, and right now, as she stands in front of me, arms crossed and eyes narrowing in that familiar, piercing way, I can see the wheels turning in her mind. She’s here for one thing: control. Whether it’s through Theresa, through Oliver, or through me, she’s always trying to find a way to hold the reins.
There’s no love in Agnes. Only strategy. And that’s what makes her the most dangerous of them all.
I stand up quickly, instinctively putting myself between Oliver and them. He’s still too young to understand, but I don’t want him near them, especially not Theresa. She doesn’t belong here, not in my house, and definitely not in my life anymore.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, keeping my voice as steady as I can manage.
Theresa smirks, her mother hovering behind her like a vulture. "Can’t a mother come check on her son?"
My blood is boiling in my veins. The audacity she has, showing up like this, walking into my house like she owns the place and pretending she gives a damn about Oliver. It’s almost laughable.
“Edna?” I shout. “Can you come in here, please?”
A few moments later, the nanny walks into the room. Her eyes jump between me, Theresa and Agnes, and she furrows her brow in concern.
“Sir?” she asks.
“Can you take Oliver upstairs, please?”
She nods and hurries to my son’s side.
“Come on, little one,” she says, taking Oliver’s hand and helping him to his feet. “Let’s go read a story up in your room.”
“Okay, Edna,” he says. Edna gives me a lingering look as she leads Oliver out of the room. Theresa barely spares our son a glance, which tells me all I need to know about her real intentions for being here.
"You’re not here for Oliver," I say flatly, crossing my arms. "What do you want?"
Her smirk doesn’t falter. She steps further into the room, her eyes scanning the space, taking in every detail as though she’s sizing up her next move. "It’s been too long, Christian. I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s best for our son."
Our son . The words grate against me like nails on a chalkboard. She hasn’t shown any real interest in being a mother to Oliver, not since he was born. Everything she’s done has been for herself—whether it’s attention, money, or trying to worm her way back into my life.
"And what’s best for Oliver in your opinion?" I ask, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.
Her mother, who’s been silent until now, finally speaks up, her voice dripping with condescension. "Dear, it’s quite simple. A child deserves, no, needs his mother. Theresa is willing to step back into her role. She’s been thinking a lot about her future—and his."
I laugh bitterly, shaking my head. "Don’t act like you care about Oliver. You’ve had every opportunity to be in his life, and you’ve never taken it. This isn’t about him. This is about money. It always is with you."
Theresa’s smirk falters, but she quickly recovers, her eyes narrowing. "You always think the worst of me, Christian. I’ve changed. I want what’s best for Oliver."
"No," I snap, stepping closer, my voice low but firm. "What you want is the child support and the potential inheritance. You don’t care about Oliver; you care about what he represents. You think if you win custody, you’ll have control over what’s mine, and one day, he’ll inherit everything. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?"
Theresa’s face hardens, the facade slipping just for a second. She glances at her mother before looking back at me, a glint of something dangerous in her eyes.
"What if I could offer you a deal?"
She’s not even trying to deny my accusations against her. I scoff, but she takes another step forward, ignoring my reaction.
"You divorce that little tramp. Leave this little charade behind. Marry me instead."
Her words hang in the air, as poisonous as the smirk curling her lips.
I feel the ground shift beneath me, the weight of her suggestion sinking in. "What?"
"If you marry me," she says, her voice sickeningly sweet, "I’ll agree to continue living my life far away from you and Oliver. I won’t fight for custody, I won’t interfere, and I’ll let you raise him however you want. In return, you’ll give me what I deserve—access to your fortune."
I stare at her, barely able to process what I’m hearing. "You want me to marry you so you can get my money, and then what? Disappear? You expect me to believe you’ll just walk away from Oliver after that?"
Her eyes flicker with amusement. "I don’t need to be part of your life, Christian. All I want is what’s fair. I won’t take Oliver away from you, but I want to secure my future. And let’s be honest—you and Haven? That’s not going to last. She’s not good enough for you. She can’t offer you the prestige you deserve like I can. You’ll realize how beneath you she really is and want to get rid of her anyway. I’m just beating you to the inevitable punch."
I step closer to Theresa, my voice cold. "You don’t know anything about me and Haven. You think I’d sacrifice my marriage for you? For money? You’ve lost your mind."
Theresa’s smile fades, her eyes narrowing. "You think you’re better off with her? She’s already slipping away from you, Christian. You’re going to lose her, just like you lost me."
"I didn’t lose you," I snap. "You were never mine to lose. You walked away from me, from Oliver, from any semblance of being a decent person. Don’t pretend this is about anything other than greed."
Her mother steps forward, her eyes cold. "Think carefully, Christian. This is an offer that benefits everyone. Theresa gets what she deserves, and you keep your precious son without a fight."
Shit… that does make me pause.
Her offer lingers in the air like a toxic fog. Marry her again, give her access to my money, and in return, she’ll leave us alone—leave Oliver alone.
The idea turns my stomach, but then, so does the thought of dragging my son through a custody battle that could rip his world apart. He’s too young to understand what’s going on, too innocent to be caught up in his mother’s selfishness and greed.
All I care about is keeping him safe. My money? I could care less about it, but the life I’ve built with Oliver, the stability, the peace… that’s what matters. I know, deep down, that Theresa’s return threatens all of it. The idea of her being back in Oliver’s life, even partially, makes my blood run cold. She’s not fit to be a mother, and Oliver deserves better.
But then there’s Haven.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as the weight of everything bears down on me. Haven’s been pulling away, and I can feel her slipping through my fingers, but I don’t know if I’m ready to let her go. There’s a part of me—hell, a big part of me—that still wants her. That needs her. We’ve been through so much together, and despite all the uncertainty, there’s something real between us. Something I’m not ready to lose.
But what if Haven doesn’t feel the same? What if I’m holding onto something that was never as real for her as it was for me? She’s grieving, lost in her pain, and maybe that’s why she’s been distant, but maybe it’s more than that. Maybe she doesn’t want this life with me anymore. If that’s the case… where does that leave Oliver?
Agnes clears her throat, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. I look up at her and her brow is furrowed and her mouth pinched in clear impatience.
“Clearly, you’re not willing to be reasonable,” Agnes snaps. "We can tell the court how you’ve intentionally kept Oliver from his mother since the day he was born. How you’ve manipulated the situation to keep him away from her."
“That’s bullshit,” I growl. “Theresa’s been absent by choice. She walked away from both of us, only coming back now because she wants money.”
Agnes smirks. “You think the courts care about that? All they’ll see is a mother trying to reconnect with her son and a selfish father standing in her way. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to manipulate people’s perception of a situation if you know just the right strings to pull.”
Narrowing my eyes, I glare at Agnes, fury burning through me. If I let this continue, this is the kind of evil shit I’m going to have to deal with. That Oliver’s going to have to deal with. I can’t let this turn into a long, nasty ordeal. I won’t put Oliver through that. I won’t let him be dragged into courtrooms, forced to hear his parents fight over him like he’s some kind of possession.
But marrying Theresa? That’s like signing my soul over to the devil. I know it, and yet… what choice do I have?
I could fight. I could go to court, drag this out for months, maybe years, trying to prove that Oliver’s better off with me, but that fight would leave scars—on Oliver, on me, on everything I’ve tried to build for him. Theresa knows how to twist things, and with her mother’s influence, they could make it ugly. They would. They’d do anything to win.
A knot forms in my throat, and I clench my fists, trying to steady myself. Is this really my only option? Marry Theresa, let her have access to my fortune, and in return, she’ll leave Oliver and me alone? It’s disgusting. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it, but… if it keeps Oliver safe, if it gives him the stability he deserves, is it worth it?
What about Haven? Could I really let go of her completely? There’s a part of me that still hopes we can fix things, that she’ll come back to me. That what we have isn’t just a fleeting connection, but something worth fighting for, but I can’t hold onto that hope if it means putting Oliver at risk.
Every instinct I have screams not to trust Theresa, not to give in to her demands, but if I don’t… I know what’s coming.
A battle I’m not sure I can win.
A battle that will hurt Oliver most of all.
Clenching my teeth, I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. I hate this. I hate that she’s put me in this position, forcing me to choose between the woman I care about and the well-being of my son. Deep down, I know what I have to do. I always have.
Oliver comes first. Always.
I close my eyes, trying to find some sense of peace in this storm, but there’s none. All I feel is the bitter taste of defeat.
“Fine,” I snarl. “I’ll make the deal. I’ll marry Theresa again if it means protecting Oliver from the fallout of a drawn out custody battle and gets you both out of his life again, but I have conditions.”
Theresa raises an eyebrow, her interest piqued.
“Conditions?” she echoes, a hint of amusement in her tone.
“Yes,” I affirm, locking eyes with her. “This marriage will be in name only. You won’t interfere in my personal life or Oliver’s upbringing. You’ll have access to the finances as agreed, but Oliver stays with me. Full custody, non-negotiable.”
Theresa’s amusement seems to vanish, replaced by a colder, more calculating look. “You’re in no position to demand?—”
I cut her off, my tone firm. “I’m in every position to demand, Theresa. You want my money, you adhere to my terms. Oliver is not a bargaining chip. He stays with me.”
Agnes’s gaze flicks between us. “And if we agree to these terms, you’ll go through with the marriage? You’ll play the doting husband?”
The words make my skin crawl, but I nod. “Yes, but Oliver is off-limits. You don’t use him to leverage more money or control. He’s my son, and that’s the end of it.”
Theresa narrows her eyes, mulling over my conditions.
After a moment, she smirks, “Very well. We have a deal, but remember, Christian, I can always change the rules of the game.”
“The agreement will be legally binding,” I insist. “No games. Your lawyers can draw up the contracts, but my terms are clear.”
“We’ll have our lawyers contact yours,” Theresa says, standing up, smoothing her dress. “We’ll iron out the details formally.”
As she turns to leave, I add, “Theresa?—”
She pauses, looking back over her shoulder.
“Never forget why I’m doing this. It’s for Oliver. Not for you. Don’t ever think this is about us.”
A chilling smile crosses her lips. “Of course, Christian. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
Agnes moves to follow her daughter.
Before stepping out, she turns to me, her voice chillingly sweet, “You’ve made the wise choice, Christian. It’s best to keep things… amicable, for everyone’s sake.”
I don’t move until I hear the front door open and close and then I move to sink down onto the couch..
As I ponder the deal I’ve struck, the hollow victory of it, a part of me mourns the personal price I’ll pay. Haven and the life I wanted with her now seem more distant than ever. My resolve to protect Oliver is unwavering, but as I face the cold quiet left in Theresa and Agnes’ wake, I can’t help but feel I’ve traded a piece of my heart and soul to do so.