Chapter 3 THE MAN BEHIND THE MASK

The mansion was cold.

Not physically-but in the way that wealth often stripped a place of warmth. Leah wrapped her arms around herself as the butler led her through polished marble halls and past faceless portraits of power.

Her heels echoed like defiance.

Adrian Blackwood's world hadn't changed at all. But she had.

When she stepped into his study, the scent of rich cologne and leather-bound authority met her like a punch to the gut. And there he was-leaning casually against the edge of his desk, sipping whiskey as if he hadn't ruined her life five years ago.

"Leah." His voice was smooth, unreadable. "You look... composed."

She met his gaze without flinching. "You look exactly the same. Arrogant."

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. "Old habits die hard."

Silence stretched between them-taut and electric.

He gestured toward the armchair across from him. "Sit. Or do you prefer to stand and judge me?"

"I don't need to judge you, Adrian. The world already has."

He chuckled darkly, then stood straighter. "Let's not play games, Leah. You know why I called you here."

"To gloat?"

"No. To talk business."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "You don't call your ex to talk business. Especially not the one you betrayed."

His jaw flexed, just slightly. "You left, remember?"

That was the spark.

Her eyes narrowed. "And you don't even ask why, do you? You never asked. Not once."

"Would it have changed anything?" he shot back, voice low.

"No," she whispered. "But it would've meant something."

She turned, needing air-space-anything to steady her racing pulse. But her fingers brushed against the edge of the fireplace mantle, and the room shifted.

---

Flashback - Two Lines, One Goodbye

Rain tapped gently against the apartment windows that night.

Leah stared at the pregnancy test in her trembling hand. Two lines.

Two lives.

One broken heart.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Adrian was late again-working, as always, on something he never talked about. She knew his business had shadows, but lately... they'd become monsters.

That night, he came home at 1 a.m. Blood on his shirt. Not his.

Leah stood in the doorway, unnoticed, watching as he poured a drink like nothing had happened.

She heard him make a call. His voice was cold. Efficient.

"No, make sure the file disappears. No one can tie it back to me."

It wasn't just suspicion anymore.

It was truth.

And in that moment, Leah knew-she couldn't raise her child in his world. Not in one filled with secrets and danger. She had loved him deeply. But love wasn't safety. Not anymore.

She waited until he slept.

Then she packed her bags, pressing a trembling hand to her flat stomach. "I'm sorry," she whispered to the man she once adored. "But I have to protect what matters now."

---

Now

The memory burned as she turned back to him.

Adrian watched her, his gaze unreadable. He didn't know. He never knew what she carried when she walked away.

Leah met his stare. "You think you can control everything with money and threats. But not this time, Adrian. I'm not that girl anymore."

His eyes flickered. For a second, maybe even regret.

But his words were colder than his stare. "Then prove it. Show me how far you've come without me."

She stepped forward, her voice fierce. "I already did. I raised a son."

The silence that followed was thunderous. His glass slipped slightly in his hand.

But Leah didn't stay to watch his reaction.

She turned, head high, and walked away-each step a silent vow that the past would not swallow her future.

Not again.

Adrian didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

"I raised a son."

The words echoed in his head like a gunshot in a cathedral-shattering the calm, tearing through every layer of composure he'd mastered over the years.

A son?

He stared at the doorway she had disappeared through. The air in the study had shifted. It wasn't cold anymore. It was suffocating.

He placed the glass down, forgetting to sip, his fingers curling against the edge of the desk.

Could it be true?

Leah, gone for five years. Disappeared without a trace. No calls. No letters. No closure. He had searched-God, how he had searched-but she'd vanished like smoke.

He thought she'd left because she stopped loving him. Or worse-because she had been afraid of him.

But now... now it seemed she hadn't left alone.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath.

Adrian picked up his phone and dialed a private number. His voice was low but commanding. "Get me everything on Leah Mitchell from the past five years. Every hospital, every school, every property under any alias."

A child. His child.

How could she hide something so monumental from him?

And why now? Why return?

The firelight flickered, casting long shadows on the wall. For a moment, his mind wandered-not to his empire, not to revenge-but to a small boy with Leah's eyes and maybe his smirk. A boy who didn't even know who his father was.

Adrian's jaw tightened.

He had missed the first laugh. The first step. The first word.

She had stolen all of it.

No one did that to him and walked away.

Leah had returned with secrets, but Adrian Blackwood was a man who thrived in the dark. And now that she'd resurfaced, he would uncover everything-even if he had to burn the world to do it.

---

Meanwhile...

Leah sat in the backseat of the cab, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Her heart hadn't stopped racing since she walked out of that room.

She had done it. She'd told him.

She hadn't planned to. Not yet. Not like that. But the words had slipped free, raw and aching from years of silence.

She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the cool window glass. The city lights blurred like tears.

Would he come after them now?

She wasn't stupid. Adrian wasn't the type to ignore a revelation like that. He would investigate, dig, uncover everything she tried to protect. She just hoped... she just prayed... that he wouldn't try to take her son away.

Because this time, she would fight.

For her son.

For herself.

Even if it meant going to war with the man she once loved more than life itself.

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