Chapter 5 The Confrontation cont'd

Maria's POV

Calling it a house would've been an insult.

Henry didn't live in a house-he ruled from the Clark family's crown jewel penthouse: a sprawling, two-story duplex that occupied the top two floors of a skyscraper in the heart of Port City. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows wrapped around the entire space, offering a panoramic view of the skyline so breathtaking it looked unreal. The marble floors gleamed beneath my bare feet. There was even an infinity pool-not on the rooftop, but built inside, where the living room met the sky.

It wasn't just luxury. It was power.

And I had just walked into the lion's den.

The guards didn't follow us in. Henry strode in first, like a storm that had learned to walk. He didn't even look back to see if I was keeping up. He tossed his suit jacket onto the arm of the black leather sofa and sank into it like a king returning to his throne.

I hovered near the entrance, barefoot and nervous, heart pounding so hard it almost drowned out the silence.

His eyes landed on me-sharp, unflinching, full of disdain. It was the kind of look that stripped you bare.

And in that moment, I knew.

I had messed up.

This wasn't an ordinary man I had walked away from. This wasn't someone I could placate with apologies or charm. Henry Clark wasn't just a man. He was an institution, the heir to a business empire, a symbol of ruthless perfection. Abandoning a man like him after a one-night stand was already unforgivable.

But leaving with his child?

That was war.

So I did everything I could. I begged. I reasoned. I tried every variation of apology I could think of-told him I had made a terrible mistake, that I didn't know who he was, that I had no intention of hiding Emma for personal gain.

But the longer I spoke, the more his fury simmered.

I thought I saw it-something more behind his anger, but I couldn't place it.

I changed tactics. "I'm not here to ask for anything," I said, voice trembling. "I never wanted to involve the Clark family. I'll take Emma and leave-vanish. We'll go as far as we can. You'll never have to see us again."

But that made things worse.

His jaw clenched. His fingers drummed silently against his knee. Whatever I was saying, it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

My mind scrambled. Maybe it was the credit card? I rushed to explain. "I know it was awful of me to leave like that-to leave you with money, like I was the one... using you. I didn't mean it like that."

Finally, his expression eased-only slightly. A flicker of something crossed his face, something too complicated to name.

Then his phone rang.

He raised a hand, silencing me instantly, and answered in clipped, controlled tones. I tried not to stare, tried not to imagine what kind of call could make a man like Henry Clark frown even deeper.

And I couldn't stop thinking about Emma.

She was only two. Soft. Sweet. Innocent. I knew what rich families were like-the power games, the image-obsession, the legacy chains. If she got caught in the middle of this storm, what would become of her confidence, her safety, her childhood?

A chill ran through me.

So when Henry ended the call, I fell to my knees at his feet, pressing my hands together in a desperate plea.

"Please, Mr. Clark," I whispered, looking up at him. "I didn't know who you were when we met. I never intended to find you again. I never planned to involve Emma in your life-she was mine to raise, and I accepted that alone."

His eyes narrowed, unreadable.

Trying to soften him, I added, "Honestly, you were the one who should've left the bank card. If you had done it, I would've rolled out of that bed and disappeared."

That... was the wrong move.

He stood slowly, eyes burning with insult.

"You're even more shameless than you were before," he growled.

I blinked, stunned. How was I the shameless one here?

But before I could say anything, his phone rang again. He answered it with a scowl and walked away without another word, disappearing down a hallway with his long strides echoing across the marble.

I sighed, dramatically, and collapsed onto the nearest sofa, staring up at the high ceilings. A ridiculous chandelier dangled above me like some glittering judgment. I felt like a bird in a glass cage.

My phone had been confiscated before we even arrived. I was completely cut off from the outside world-no way to call my parents, my assistant, or anyone who could help me. I had no idea how Emma was doing.

The smart thing would've been to sit still, stay quiet, and wait for judgment.

But I couldn't.

Not with Emma out there in a world that could crush her without ever meaning to.

I crept through the silent penthouse, finding a large office that clearly belonged to him. The study was dark oak and leather, filled with the scent of expensive paper and power. A sleek computer sat on the desk. I tried the keyboard, but it was password protected.

I racked my brain. His birthday?

Back in Hawaii, I'd seen his ID. He was a Scorpio, I remembered that much. I tried every combination I could think of. Nothing.

I turned to the massive bookshelf-rows and rows of books, pristine and color-coded. I whispered a silent prayer and started scanning. There had to be something.

After nearly half an hour, I found it.

A small black box, tucked behind a thick volume on finance. It looked recently opened.

Inside were a few simple objects:

– A plain notebook

– A sunflower hair clip

– A lavender handkerchief

My fingers trembled as I opened the notebook. The first page was marked in elegant handwriting:

March 12, 2011 - The first time I met her.

I froze.

Holy crap.

This high and mighty heir had a secret crush journal?

I slammed the notebook shut, heart racing. If Henry caught me snooping, he'd probably throw me off the penthouse balcony.

Still, I typed the date into the computer.

It worked.

I exhaled in silent victory. Thank you, mystery girl.

I returned everything to its place, careful not to disturb a single thread, and began searching. My assistant had been managing our accounts. The posts were still going up. Our followers were growing by the minute.

No one online had the slightest clue that their favorite influencer mom had just been abducted by a billionaire heir.

I searched for news. Nothing yet. No headlines. No rumors. No indication that the Clark family had taken action-at least not publicly.

I looked up everything I could find about Henry.

There wasn't much.

Unlike his flashy peers, Henry Clark had kept himself deliberately invisible. He'd taken over the Clark empire two years ago with a swift, surgical transition. No scandal. No press. No drama. His public image was made of stone.

And now I'd found myself caught in the middle of it.

Honestly... this foolish girl must have insane luck.

With no way to reach my parents, and no updates on Emma, I finally gave in to exhaustion. I stumbled into the kitchen, found a bottle of mineral water, and drank it in silence.

Then, curled up on the corner of a luxurious L-shaped couch, I finally let myself fall asleep, the city lights shimmering behind the glass, and my fears still clawing at the edge of my dreams.