“He’s scared. There’s a difference.”
She turns to look at me. “Scared of what? Of me? Of two four-year-olds?”
“Of losing his position. Of being replaced. Of watching his father build a new family that doesn’t include him.”
“You kicked him out to defend me. Why?”
The question hangs between us.
“Because what he said was unacceptable,” I say finally.
“You’ve said worse things to me. You’ve threatened to take my children. You’ve called me a liar to my face.”
“In private. Between us. Not in front of the twins at a dinner table where they had to watch their brother question their legitimacy.”
“Half-brother.”
“Brother. And he crossed a line.”
She walks closer. “I didn’t think you’d do that. Kick him out. Choose us over him.”
“I didn’t choose. I enforced boundaries. Maxim disrespected my wife and questioned my children’s legitimacy. That’s not acceptable from anyone. Including my own son.”
“But he’s your heir. Your successor. Everything you’ve built is supposed to go to him.”
“And it will. Eventually. That doesn’t give him the right to insult you.”
“Why do you care if he insults me?”
“Because you’re mine.” The words come out harder than I intend. More possessive.
She goes very still. “I’m yours.”
“Yes.”
“Like property.”
“Like family. There’s a difference.”
“Is there? Because from where I’m standing, it feels the same. You own this house. You own my parents’ company. You own methrough this marriage. Now you’re claiming ownership of how people treat me.”
“I’m protecting what’s mine. That’s different from ownership.”
“How?”
I stand and walk around the desk. She doesn’t back away. Just watches me approach with those exhausted blue eyes.
“Ownership is control,” I say. “Protection is choice. I chose to kick Maxim out because what he said was wrong. Not because I own you. Because you’re the mother of my children and you don’t deserve to be disrespected at my dinner table.”
“Even though I lied to you. Even though I kept your children from you for years.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“You don’t have to understand me. You just have to accept that this is how things are now.”
She’s close enough now that I can see the pulse beating in her throat. Fast. Nervous.
