Page 51 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, the word filled with a volatile mix of rage, confusion, and something else I can’t decipher. “At least...” He looks at me. “At least tell me her name.”

“Mia,” I answer without hesitation.

“Mia.” He says it like he’s tasting the word. His lips twitch, and for a moment I think he might actually smile, but then he turns and he’s gone.

The slam of the apartment door echoes in the sudden, suffocating silence. It bounces off the walls of my carefully curated space, rattling the picture frames and my already frayed nerves.

Well. That escalated quickly.

Understatement of the goddamn century.

Mia’s crying reaches peak desperation.

Right.

Baby.

Mybaby.

Ourbaby, apparently.

The reason this whole mess just exploded.

My legs feel weak but I force them to move. I go down the short hallway, push open the nursery door, and scoop Mia out of her crib.

She clings to me instantly, burying her wet face against my neck, her tiny body trembling.

“Shhh, shhh, baby girl,” I murmur, rocking her, my own heart hammering against my ribs. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here. It’s okay.”

Liar. It issomonumentally not okay.

Her sobs slowly subside into hiccuping gasps. I sink into the rocking chair, holding her tight, breathing in her familiar scent of baby powder and milk.

Lawyers.

Custody.

I’m not giving up Mia.

Never.

I swallow, patting Mia on the back. “Mommy’s here...”

Okay, Sabrina. Think.

Time for Plan B...

Wait, what the hell is Plan B? And what was Plan A in the first place?

Leo stormed out before I could evenattemptto negotiate.

But he mentioned lawyers. Which means communication channelswillopen, albeit hostile ones.

Maybe... maybe that’s the opening? A negotiation brokered by legal teams? Establishing co-parenting terms that protect Mia while acknowledging his rights? Things like controlled access, supervised visits... basically a legal agreement establishing clear boundaries and financial support (because god knows I need it now, even if my pride chafes atthe thought) but limiting his actual involvement. Because I need to protect Mia from his lifestyle, and his potential to disappear, emotionally or literally.

Can I even dictate terms? He holds all the cards. The money, the power. If he wanted to, he could drag this through the courts for years, and bleed me dry emotionally and financially.

My head spins.

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