Page 165 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

“That narrative,” she spits back, her cheeks flushed, “was about yourrecovery! About building something stable! It included the wingsuitingonlybecause you fucking insisted on keeping that door open! Because you wouldn’t let it go! Not because I thought it was a good idea for the father of my child to keep flirting with death!”

“Ineedto do this!” I tell her, gesturing wildly. “To get the attention off Luca! To show the investors I’m not fucking broken! This is just business, that’s all it is!”

The fight in her, the fire… it’s fucking intoxicating. Part of me, the dark, primal part, wants to cross the room, grab her, push her against the wall, channel this raw energy into something physical and explosive, something that ends with both of us breathless and spent, like it did in the gym.

I scan her face, looking for that mutual flicker of desire, that heat I saw in the gym.

But it’s not there. Not even a spark. Her eyes are filled with a different kind of fire now. Not passion. Just… resolve. A chilling, heartbreaking resolve.

I thought… I don’t know what I thought. That we’d fight, and then…

And then what? Fucking explode into angry sex again?

Is that your brilliant fucking solution to everything?

“No, Leo,” she says, her voice suddenly quiet. “It’s not just business. Not anymore. I can’t build a life like this. I can’t build a future with someone who would choose the risk, over us. Over Mia.” She takes a deep breath, and the next words land like hammer blows. “I need space, Leo. We… we need a break. A real one.”

Break?

What the fuck is she talking about?

“I’m moving back to my apartment,” she continues. “Tonight. The paparazzi can camp outside for all I care. I’ll keep the security detail, for Mia’s sake. For now. But I can’t… I can’t stay here. Not like this.”

She turns before I can even process her words. She walks towards the nursery. Towards Mia.

“Sabrina, wait!” I call out, my voice hoarse. But she doesn’t stop.

I just stand there, like a fool.

Am I really going to let her go?

But what else can I do?

I can’tforceher to stay with me.

A few moments later, she emerges with Mia bundled in her arms, a hastily packed overnight bag slung over one shoulder.

Mia is wailing, a high-pitched, heartbroken sound that seems to understand, on some primal level, that something is fundamentally wrong.

She reaches a tiny hand towards me.

“No,” I whisper, the word choked. Tears sting my eyes.

My baby.

My baby.

I take a step towards them, my leg screaming in protest, my hand outstretched.

But Sabrina just shakes her head, her own eyes glistening, but her expression resolute.

She turns and walks towards the elevator, Mia’s cries echoing in cavernous penthouse.

She steps inside. Scans her keycard. The doors slide shut.

Gone.

I stare at the closed elevator doors, stunned. The fight, the adrenaline, the bravado… it all drains away, leaving me trembling.

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