Chapter 10 - The Cornered Titan
Rain began pouring heavy over the streets of Boston late that afternoon,
the dark sky reflecting the stormy mood settling over the city.
I left my attorney's office at six o'clock,
holding a black umbrella as I walked toward my car parked in the quiet subterranean garage.
The concrete parking structure was empty,
the sound of dripping water echoing off the cold gray walls.
As I reached my vehicle and clicked the remote unlock button,
a shadow stepped out from behind a heavy concrete support pillar.
"Ellie."
I stopped in my tracks,
my body instantly going on high alert.
Grant stepped into the dim fluorescent light of the garage.
He was soaked from the rain,
his tie loosened,
his expensive suit jacket ruined and clinging to his damp shoulders.
He looked unhinged,
desperate,
and broken—a far cry from the immaculate billionaire who had told me "I choose you" four days ago.
"You shouldn't be here, Grant,"
I said, my hand instinctively dropping to my purse where my phone was ready to dial emergency services.
"I have a temporary restraining order pending."
Grant walked slowly toward me,
his eyes frantic,
searching my face with terrifying intensity.
"You took my company, Ellie,"
he rasped,
his voice raw and shaking.
"You turned the board against me.
You took Harborview.
You destroyed my life's work in three days."
"You destroyed it yourself, Grant,"
I replied,
stepping back to maintain a safe distance between us.
"When you chose greed,
forgery,
and Vanessa Cole over honesty and your marriage."
Grant took another step closer,
his eyes dropping down to my waist,
staring intently at my stomach beneath my tailored coat.
"Are you pregnant?"
he demanded, the question bursting out of his chest like a wounded shout.
The sudden question hung in the damp air of the garage,
heavy and charged with explosive tension.
I kept my expression completely blank,
refusing to let a single emotion show on my face.
"That is none of your business, Grant."
"It IS my business!"
Grant roared, taking a aggressive stride toward me.
"If you are carrying a child, it's MY child!
Vanessa found out you visited the New England Fertility Center!
She found out you went to a clinic in South Boston yesterday!"
He raised his trembling hands,
his eyes wide with a terrifying mixture of panic and desperate hope.
"Tell me the truth, Ellie!
Are you carrying my heir?"
I looked at the man I had once loved with all my heart.
I saw his selfishness,
his arrogance,
and his desperate desire to claim ownership over something precious only because he realized he had lost it.
He didn't care about the baby's life.
He cared about using the baby to salvage his ruined image,
to regain leverage over me,
and to reclaim his control.
I took a deep, steady breath,
my hand resting lightly over my lower abdomen beneath my coat,
feeling the silent, powerful miracle resting safely inside me.
"Four days ago,"
I said, my voice echoing cold and sharp through the quiet garage,
"you walked into our bedroom and told me that every room in our house was a shrine to failure.
You called our attempts to start a family a weight that suffocated you.
You looked me in the eye and said you chose Vanessa."
Grant flinched,
a look of genuine agony crossing his face as his own cruel words were thrown back at him.
"Ellie... I was angry... I didn't mean—"
"You meant every word, Grant,"
I interrupted,
stepping around him toward the driver's side door of my car.
"You chose your freedom.
You chose your mistress.
And in doing so,
you forfeited the right to ever be called a father by my child."
Grant froze,
the confirmation hitting him like a physical blow to the chest.
His eyes went wide,
his mouth opening as the full, crushing reality of his loss settled into his soul.
I was pregnant.
The child he had spent four years begging for was finally real,
alive,
and growing.
And he had thrown it away on the exact night it arrived.
"Ellie... please,"
Grant whispered,
tears actually brimming in his eyes as he took a step toward my car door.
"We can fix this... we can talk... it's my baby too—"
"This child doesn't belong to a traitor, Grant,"
I said, sliding into the driver's seat and locking the doors instantly.
"This child belongs to a mother who built her own empire from the ashes of your betrayal."
I started the engine,
the powerful roar echoing through the garage.
I backed out of the parking space,
May you like
leaving Grant Mercer standing alone in the damp, dark garage,
clutching his face in his hands,
