A summons to Arnold's study is never good news. A summons to Arnold's study with Victoria already installed in an armchair, smiling like a cat who's cornered something delicious?
That's catastrophic.
I sat across from them, spine straight, chin lifted, refusing to show fear even as my stomach churned with the particular dread reserved for parent-teacher conferences and IRS audits.
Eleanor was three weeks old. Whatever this was, the timing wasn't coincidental.
Nothing with the Ashfords was ever coincidental.
"Thank you for joining us." Arnold's voice was smooth as aged whiskey and twice as likely to give you a headache. "I trust Eleanor is sleeping well?"
"She's a newborn. She sleeps in two-hour increments and screams like a banshee in between."
I crossed my legs, projecting a calm I absolutely did not feel. "But I doubt you summoned me here to discuss infant sleep schedules."
"Perceptive as always."
Arnold leaned back in his leather throne—because calling it a chair would be an insult to its obvious aspirations.
"You've fulfilled your part of the arrangement admirably. A healthy child. The marriage maintained for appearances. Well done."
"I'm not an employee awaiting my bonus."
"No." His eyes were cold. Calculating. The eyes of a man who'd foreclosed on orphanages and slept soundly afterward. "You're a contractual obligation that's reached its expiration date."
The words landed like a physical blow, but I kept my expression neutral. Years of poverty had taught me one thing: never let them see you flinch.
Victoria's smile sharpened, all teeth and barely concealed triumph. "What my husband means is—it's time to discuss the future. Specifically, yours."
She paused for effect, clearly having rehearsed this moment. "Elsewhere."
My blood chilled. "Excuse me?"
"We're considering options."
Arnold steepled his fingers in that way villains do when they're about to monologue.
"A quiet divorce. Perhaps a small scandal—the young couple simply couldn't make it work. Tragic, but these things happen. The tabloids will have a field day, then move on to the next celebrity breakdown."
"How thoughtful of you to plan my public humiliation." My voice came out steadier than I expected. "And Eleanor? Where does she fit in this convenient narrative?"
"Stays here. Obviously." Arnold's tone suggested I'd asked something monumentally stupid. "She's an Ashford."
"She's MY daughter."
"Is she?"
The question hung in the air like a guillotine waiting to drop.
Arnold reached into his desk drawer and produced a document—thick, official, covered in the kind of dense legal text designed to make your eyes glaze over.
The contract I'd signed months ago, desperate and stupid and trusting. The contract I'd never actually read.
He slid it across the desk, one manicured finger tapping specific clauses with the precision of a surgeon identifying exactly where to cut.
"Section four, paragraph three: 'Full custody of any offspring shall remain with the Ashford family regardless of marital status.'"
He flipped a page.
"Section seven: 'The bearer relinquishes all parental claims upon dissolution of the marriage.' Shall I continue? There's a particularly interesting clause about visitation rights—or rather, the complete absence of them."
The words swam before my eyes. Legal jargon twisted into weapons, paragraphs designed to strip away everything I'd come to love.
Each sentence was a trap I'd walked into willingly, blindly, because I'd been too desperate to look where I was stepping.
I'd signed this. I'd actually signed this, page after page, without reading, without questioning, because I'd been broke and scared and convinced I didn't want the baby anyway.
God, I'd been so stupid.
"You can't… This isn't…" I couldn't form complete sentences. Couldn't breathe past the panic clawing up my throat.
"It's entirely legal." Victoria examined her manicure with performative boredom. "You should have hired a lawyer, dear. Though I suppose that would have required money you didn't have. How unfortunate."
"I was desperate. You knew I was desperate—you made me desperate." I turned to Arnold, searching for any crack in his armor. "The grant. The internship. You took everything so I'd have no choice but to sign."
"I'm a businessman. I create favorable conditions for negotiation." He shrugged like we were discussing stock options rather than my child's future. "You made your choice. Now you live with the consequences."
"She's three weeks old." My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it. "She needs her mother."
"She needs stability. Resources. The Ashford name."
Arnold's expression didn't flicker—not a hint of sympathy, not a trace of humanity.
"What can you offer her? A cramped apartment? Public school? A lifetime of scraping by while watching other children have more?"
"I can offer her love."
"How quaint." Victoria's laugh was musical and cruel. "Love doesn't pay for Harvard, dear."
I stood on shaking legs, the chair scraping against hardwood. "I won't let you take her. I'll fight this. I'll hire lawyers, I'll go to the press, I'll…"
"You'll what?"
Arnold rose too, and somehow the simple act of standing made him terrifying.
"Take on the Ashford legal team with your nonexistent resources? Alert the media and watch them tear apart the gold-digger who got pregnant to trap a billionaire?"
He smiled, and it was the coldest thing I'd ever seen. "Please. Try. It will make the custody hearing so much simpler when they see how unstable you are."
"You're a monster."
"I'm a father protecting his family's legacy." He straightened his cuffs with precise, unhurried movements. "Something you should understand, given your apparent attachment to Eleanor."
I wanted to scream. Wanted to throw things, burn down this study, watch the whole rotten empire crumble around him.
Instead, I did the only thing I could do. I left.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I made it exactly seven steps down the hallway before my legs gave out. I caught myself against the wall, breathing hard, fighting back tears that wanted desperately to fall.
The contract's words branded themselves into my brain, burning like acid.
Full custody shall remain with the Ashford family.
Relinquishes all parental claims.
Upon dissolution of the marriage.
I'd signed away Eleanor before she even existed. Before I'd felt her kick, heard her cry, watched her tiny fingers curl around mine.
Before I'd fallen so completely, devastatingly in love with her that the thought of losing her made me want to tear the world apart.
And there was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do about it.
Arnold held all the cards. The money, the lawyers, the legal document with my stupid, trusting signature scrawled across the bottom.
I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the cold marble floor, knees pulled to my chest, exactly like I had in Damon's study.
Except this time, the stakes were so much higher.
This time, they were taking my daughter.