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He places the sealed envelope on the doorstep and retreats to his car, leaving me alone with what feels like a death sentence hanging over my neck. Phoebe’s content just laying on the floor, since she’s never seen this angle of the passageway before. I wait until he drives away before I move to grab the padded letter.
My heart drops, reading my name sprawled across it in such a bland typography, and I hate this so fucking badly. I hate Ryan’s parents for doing this to me. I hate Ethan for playing the games that his brother avoided.
It’s taken a whole month for them to come calling, but it still feels like no time at all. We’re not prepared. I’m not prepared. We’ve had a meeting with three different solicitors and found the one we liked best... but their whole plan resides on the summons coming.
We can’t prepare a case until we know what their angle is.
Which has only added to our unease.
“Maia,” a familiar voice calls. My blood runs cold as I slowly look over at the man I now know is not Ryan.
I don’t know how I’ve missed it all these months.
He’s got a swagger, an arrogance, that Ryan never had. He’s wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a light grey hoodie. He’s clean shaven, with the same bright blue eyes I’m used to seeing.
But I know the truth, and I’ve come to terms with it over the last few weeks. This is not Ryan, and I don’t need to be nice.
“Fuck off,” I hiss. “We’re not playing this game any longer. I know exactly who you are. You don’t get to show up day after day and torment me. You don’t get to pretend like you are anything to her.”
“Showing up?” His eyes narrow, and he takes a step forward as if he’s genuinely concerned. “What do you mean showing up?”
I roll my eyes and allow myself to be angry. “You’re going to get caught one day, you know, and then you won’t be allowed to visit me, or the pack, and certainly not Phoebe. I know you, and trust me, Ethan?—”
“Ethan?” He growls low in his throat, and I freeze. My eyes widen ever so slightly, and I pray my racing heart isn’t something that would entice him into acting. “How do you know that name?”
I stay frozen, just for a second, and slowly raise my eyes to look at the man in front of me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Phoebe whines, and I turn to grab her, giving him the chance to come closer. I turn back around as he snatches the envelope from my hands. He drops it almost immediately, his face paling.
“Get off that. It’s not yours,” I warn, taking a step back, further into the house. His eyes track the movement, but I don’t know if he’s truly seeing it or if he’s in shock.
“What the fuck is this?” he snarls, glaring at me as if I’m the one at fault here.
“Your family—and you—are taking me to court to get access to my daughter,” I say, keeping my voice as pleasant as possible as I give him the dirtiest look I can. I don’t want to upset Phoebe with my scorn, but, fuck, do I feel it.
I’m terrified. His energy is so much worse than Michael’s was. There’s danger, and my brain is begging me to flee, to hide, to protect myself and my baby.
Being around him, knowing the way I’ve let him manipulate me over the last ten months… it makes me ill.
“So you’ll understand why you’re not welcome here, yes?”
“Maia, you can’t let them take her,” he says urgently. He steps closer again, and if I wanted, I could reach out and touch him.
But I don’t. Because this isn’t Ryan, and any touch from this imposter would be nothing short of repulsive. This is Ethan. The brother that lives in their pack, on their lands, playing nice as they all plot to steal my daughter.
I’m not playing this game. I can’t.
I won’t.
“Go away,” I cry, cuddling her in close. She begins to stir, and I know she’s feeling my distress.
“Go away? I’m here to help you, Maia.”
I bite my lip, tears welling up in my eyes, as I desperately try to calm myself down. Ethan’s on edge, and I don’t know what move he’s going to make, but I know I don’t want any part of it.
“I don’t want to play these mind games anymore.” My words are pitiful, my heart hammering. “Please, just leave me alone. I need…” My body shudders, and Phoebe whines softly. I look down at my daughter, whose face is scrunched up, and I use her to ground myself.
She’s the important thing right now. Only her. Always her.
