Chapter 4 Every Deal Has a Price

I didn't open the contract that night.

I couldn't.

It sat on my kitchen table like a loaded gun-sleek, silent, and waiting for my signature to pull the trigger.

I spent the night lying awake beside Micah, watching him sleep, wondering how the hell I was supposed to protect him from a man who could buy every law I was counting on to protect us.

Damon Blackwood wanted more than access. He wanted control. But not through force. Not yet.

He was offering protection like a devil offers salvation.

And I didn't know which part of me hated him more-the mother who wanted to keep him out... or the woman who once let him in.

By morning, the city felt colder.

I pushed the contract into a drawer and tried to pretend the world wasn't closing in. But reality doesn't care about denial.

When I dropped Micah off at preschool, the teacher paused longer than usual at the sign-in sheet. Her eyes lingered on me-curious, cautious.

"Is everything okay, Miss Cruz?"

"Yes."

No.

Everything was unraveling.

I offered a tight smile. "Just tired."

But when I turned, I felt it-eyes on me. Watching. Measuring.

A man stood by the fence. Not someone I recognized. Not dressed like a parent. Black coat. Sunglasses. Hands in pockets.

He didn't speak.

He just stared.

A chill scraped down my spine.

I pulled out my phone, pretending to text, and discreetly took a photo.

The second I did, he turned and walked away.

Fast.

Gone before I could follow.

"You think Damon sent him?" Sophie's voice crackled through the phone like fire.

I was in her apartment that evening, pacing her kitchen. She'd been my closest friend since undergrad. The only person who knew the full truth-except Micah.

"No idea," I said. "But someone's watching."

She sipped her wine, barefoot in sweatpants, worry clouding her face. "You need to be careful, Lia. Damon's not the type to back down."

I ran a hand through my hair. "I thought the same. But now? He's playing nice. Too nice."

"And that scares you?"

"What scares me," I said quietly, "is how close he is to getting what he wants."

Sophie tilted her head. "And what if what he wants isn't just Micah?"

I froze.

She shrugged. "You're acting like he's still a stranger. But this isn't just business anymore. He's seen his son. And he's looking at you like a man who regrets something."

I shook my head. "That night was a mistake."

"And what if he doesn't think it was?"

I didn't answer.

Because I didn't know.

I got my answer the next morning.

When I opened my apartment door, someone was already there.

Not Damon.

A woman.

Tall. Elegant. A face made for cameras-flawless skin, sleek hair, a designer trench coat that probably cost more than my rent. She smiled like a snake.

"You must be Liana."

I stared. "And you are?"

She extended a manicured hand. "Isabella Laurent. Damon's fiancée."

My heart stilled.

"Excuse me?"

She stepped inside uninvited, heels clicking against the tile. "Well, ex-fiancée. Technically. It's complicated."

I didn't shut the door.

I slammed it.

"I think you have the wrong address."

"Oh, I have the right one. Trust me." She turned, eyes scanning the apartment with thinly veiled disgust. "Charming."

"What do you want?"

She met my gaze with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I came to deliver a message."

"From Damon?"

"No." Her smile sharpened. "From me."

I folded my arms. "Go on."

"You may have given birth to his son," she said, voice dipped in poison, "but don't mistake that for power."

My pulse quickened.

"Damon may be bending now, trying to play fair, but that won't last. He's not the kind of man who shares. And I won't let you ruin everything I've worked for."

I stepped forward. "You think this is about status?"

"I think this is about leverage," she snapped. "And I'm here to tell you-don't mistake Damon's interest in your child as interest in you."

I laughed bitterly. "Trust me, I never did."

She tilted her head. "Good. Then we understand each other."

Before she could turn, I blocked her path. "Tell Damon to grow a spine and speak for himself next time."

Her smile faltered.

And I added, "Tell him if he ever sends another one of his mouthpieces to threaten me, I'll show him exactly who I become when someone comes for my son."

Isabella's eyes flared.

But I opened the door.

She didn't slam it when she left.

But her silence was worse.

That evening, I waited for the storm.

It didn't come in a knock.

It came in a phone call.

Blocked Number.

I answered. "Hello?"

His voice was sharp. Quiet. Dangerous. "She wasn't supposed to go near you."

"So you did send her."

"No." A pause. "She found out. On her own."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"I expect you to listen when I say I didn't authorize it."

Silence stretched between us.

"Are you engaged?" I asked finally.

"Not anymore."

My chest tightened.

"And what is this, Damon? A custody deal? A guilt trip? A second chance?"

He didn't respond right away.

Then: "It's whatever you let it be."

The line went dead.

I didn't sleep.

Instead, I did what I should've done days ago.

I opened the contract.

Page by page, clause by clause.

It wasn't just a custody agreement.

It was a proposal of shared guardianship, financial trust for Micah, education stipends, housing offers, private security... and a relocation clause.

If signed, Micah and I would move into a Blackwood-owned estate in Westchester County. A mansion. Staff. Protection.

But strings.

So many strings.

And at the end-his signature already there.

Damon Blackwood.

A blank line waited beside it.

Liana Cruz.

I stared at the pen in my hand.

At the blank space that would decide everything.

And I heard his voice again-

"It's whatever you let it be."

And I realized-

The most dangerous thing wasn't signing it.

It was that part of me wanted to.