Chapter 8 - Richard #2
"She was confused. Scared." Victoria speaks up now, her voice dripping with false concern. "Poor dear, running away like that. We've been so worried, Isabelle. Come home now. We can forget this whole unpleasant incident."
Belle's hand finds mine, gripping tight. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Don't be ridiculous." Victoria's mask starts to slip. "You can't possibly think staying here is appropriate. With your fiancé's father? It's unseemly."
"Ex-fiancé," Belle corrects, her voice stronger now. "I didn't marry him. I'm not going back to him."
Nathan's face darkens further. "The fuck you're not."
He moves fast, faster than I expected, lunging up the remaining steps toward Belle. His hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist, yanking her forward.
"You're mine," he snarls. "You don't get to embarrass me and then—"
I don't let him finish.
My hand clamps down on his shoulder and I shove him hard. Nathan stumbles backward, losing his grip on Belle, nearly falling down the steps.
"You should learn to ask before taking," I say, my voice deadly quiet. "But then again, consent was never your strong suit, was it?"
"You weak old man." Nathan regains his balance, his face twisted with rage. "Playing hero for some fat whore."
His fist comes at my face, telegraphed and clumsy. I dodge easily. He's younger, but I've been working out for decades, training with professionals. His punch meets air, and I counter with a solid hit to his stomach.
Nathan doubles over, the air whooshing out of his lungs. He drops to his knees on my front steps, gasping.
"NATHAN!" Victoria rushes forward, dropping to her knees beside him. "How dare you! He's your son! Your own flesh and blood!"
I look down at them. My ex-wife and the son I barely recognize, and feel something break inside my chest.
"I hate myself for this," I say, and I'm surprised by how true it is.
"I hate that it came to this. That I raised a son who thinks he can put his hands on women, who treats people like possessions.
I blame myself for not fighting harder for custody, for letting Victoria poison you against me, for being too focused on building an empire to notice you becoming a monster. "
Nathan looks up at me, still wheezing, and I see genuine shock in his eyes. Like he can't believe I actually hit him.
"But hating myself doesn't change the facts." I straighten, putting myself between Nathan and Belle. "Belle is her own person. She has agency, choice. And she chooses to stay here. With me. You don't get a say in that, Nathan. Neither does your mother."
"This is insane," Victoria hisses. "You can't seriously think—"
"I think this conversation is over." I gesture to Marcus, who's been watching from a professional distance. "Escort our guests off the property. They're no longer welcome here."
"You can't do this!" Nathan struggles to his feet, supported by Victoria. "She's mine! I'll get the police involved, I'll—"
"You'll do nothing." My voice cuts through his threats like a blade.
"Because if you try to come near Belle again, if you try to contact her, harass her, or interfere with her life in any way, I will destroy you.
Not physically, though I've just demonstrated I'm capable of that too.
But financially. Professionally. I will use every resource at my disposal to make sure you never work in this industry again.
That every door you try to open slams in your face.
That your precious reputation is demolished beyond repair. "
Nathan's face goes white. He knows I'm not bluffing. Knows I have the money, the connections, the ruthlessness to follow through.
"Now get off my property," I say. "And don't come back."
Marcus steps forward, along with his team. Nathan looks like he wants to argue, wants to fight, but Victoria puts a hand on his arm.
"Come on, darling," she says, her voice poison-sweet. "Let your father have his midlife crisis. It won't last. She'll realize soon enough what kind of man he really is."
They're escorted back to the SUV, Nathan shooting me looks of pure hatred the entire way. When they're finally gone, the vehicle disappearing down my private drive, I turn to Belle.
She's shaking, tears streaming down her face, but she's also smiling.
"You hit him," she says, almost wonderingly. "You actually hit your own son for me."
"I'd do worse if necessary." I pull her into my arms. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you when he grabbed your wrist?"
"I'm fine. Better than fine." She buries her face in my chest. "Thank you. For protecting me. For choosing me."
"Always," I murmur into her hair. "I'll always choose you, Belle. No matter what."
We stand there on my front steps, holding each other, and I feel the weight of what just happened settle over me. I hit my son. Threatened him. Cut him out of my life completely.
And I don't regret it for a second.
Because Belle is safe. Belle is here, in my arms, choosing to stay despite having just witnessed me attack my own flesh and blood.
That's all that matters.
The rest, all the guilt, the complicated feelings, the knowledge that my relationship with Nathan is permanently destroyed, I can deal with later.
Right now, I just need to hold the woman I'm falling in love with and remember why all of this was worth it.