Bellamy POV
I was at work, helping Tristan settle into his new office. Well—his version of the office. It used to be Max’s, all dark woods and heavy furniture and giant portraits of himself on the wall. Tristan hated it. Said it felt like a haunted shrine to narcissism.
Now, we were turning it into something lighter. Warmer. There were plants in every corner. His mom’s paintings on the wall. A little coffee station by the window. And I was helping him organize files while he made space for things that actually mattered.
He was the CEO now.
My boyfriend.
And still the same man who held me when the world was falling apart.
I was halfway through labeling some folders when a knock hit the door, sharp and rushed.
The receptionist peeked in, eyes wide. “Miss Bellamy, I—I tried to stop them. I told them they couldn’t come up, but they just stormed past me. I couldn’t—”
I frowned. “Wait, what? Who?”
Before she could even finish, the door slammed open behind her and—
There they were.
My mother.
And Garrett.
My husband. Or well… the man I was trying to make my ex-husband. But he hadn’t signed the divorce papers yet, kept acting like I owed him something.
I stiffened.
The receptionist ducked out of the way as my mother flung her arms open like we were filming a bad soap opera. “Oh, my dearest daughter! You don’t even visit me anymore. Now that you’re the girlfriend of Forsythe, you think you don’t need your own mother—the woman who raised you and gave you everything!”
I wanted to laugh in her face.
Everything?
She gave me nothing but trauma and cold shoulders. She only knew about me and Tristan because the papers ran the story of him asking me to be his girlfriend on the rooftop. With the ring. With the candlelight.
The happiest day of my life.
Tristan had made it so special, so real, like I was the only woman in the world. He treated me like a princess, like I was valuable—not just useful.
I stepped forward and looked my mother dead in the eyes. “You didn’t raise me. You were never there. You handed me off to an abusive man and said I deserved it.”
Garrett scoffed. “I was never abusive. You were just lazy. And spoiled.”
I turned my head slowly. “Right. Because a real man hits a woman when she doesn’t have dinner on the table at five.”
He sneered. “You’re dramatic, like always.”
That’s when Tristan stepped forward, placing a firm hand on my back. Calm but deadly.
“This is my office,” he said, voice low and commanding. “This is my building. And this—” he looked at me, eyes full of pride, “—is my woman.”
My heart fluttered.
He faced them again. “So I kindly ask both of you to get the hell out.”
My mother narrowed her eyes. “You can’t talk to us like that.”
“You can’t tell us what to do,” Garrett added, puffing out his chest like he suddenly had money again.
“Oh, but I can,” Tristan said, with the calmness of a man who already had the upper hand. He walked over to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a thick envelope. Then, without a word, he threw it on the ground in front of them.
Crisp bills spilled out. Their eyes widened. Like scavengers, they dropped to their knees. Grabbing. Clawing.
Fighting each other over the money like animals.
I stood there in stunned silence as Garrett elbowed my mother out of the way for a stack of hundreds.
Tristan watched them coldly, then reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out the divorce papers, and tossed them on top of the pile.
He also handed Garrett a pen.
“Sign it,” he said, “or I take the money back. Every last dollar.”
Garrett didn’t even blink. He signed it in two seconds flat.
“Good boy,” Tristan said dryly.
Then he pressed a button on his phone. “Security. Escort these two out of my building.”
The guards arrived within a minute. Garrett and my mother tried to stuff the bills in their pockets as they were dragged out.
The guards didn’t let them keep a dime.
I stood next to Tristan, and he opened the security camera screen so I could watch them scream and shout in the lobby, trying to grab fistfuls of cash off the marble floor.
I snorted.
Then I laughed. Hard.
“I swear,” I said to Tristan, shaking my head, “you’re not just a man, you’re a whole damn miracle.”
He smiled. “I told you. I’d never let anyone hurt you again.”