I knew what I looked like to them. A bitter housewife lounging around at home, surviving on the allowance William Stephens deigned to give her.
I didn't argue. Didn't make a scene. I just looked at him, steady and silent.
"No need to call security." I turned, nudging the spilled cup of milk aside with my foot. "William, the room is yours. But remember this: what you took from me today, you'll beg me to give back someday. And when that day comes, I won't want it anymore."
"Seraphina, what kind of nonsense are you spouting now?" William stepped forward, reaching for my wrist. "Stop embarrassing yourself and come home with me. Don't force me to lose my temper in front of strangers."
I stepped back, out of his reach.
"Don't touch me. You disgust me."
His hand froze in midair. Something flickered in his eyes, a flash of shock, quickly swallowed by anger.
"Fine, Seraphina. You've got nerve. Walk out that door today, and I'll cancel every single supplementary credit card under your name. Let's see how long a pregnant woman with a belly that big survives without the Stephens family behind her."
Behind him, Alma Harding's lips curled into a smug little smile.
I didn't spare either of them another glance. I pulled my coat tight around myself, pushed open the door, and stepped into the cold draft of the corridor.
I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in five years.
It rang once. Just once.
A low, rough voice answered on the other end, tight with restraint.
"Quinn. Come get me," I said quietly.
"Miss Ashford." His voice caught, almost imperceptibly. "You're finally letting me bring you home."
The wind outside the hospital was brutal.
A black Maybach glided to a stop in front of me without a sound.
The door opened, and a tall man in a long black coat stepped out, crossing the distance between us in quick strides.
His features were sharp, severe. A faint scar traced the corner of his right eye, a souvenir from the time he'd thrown himself between me and danger.
Quinn Harding.
An orphan the Ashford family had taken in. He'd grown up at my side since we were children.
The outside world believed I was the Ashfords' only daughter. They had no idea that while my father was still alive, he'd personally shaped Quinn into the family's sharpest blade.
He was my sworn brother in name. In truth, he was my most loyal protector.
Five years ago, when I'd insisted on leaving home for William, Quinn had knelt in the rain all night. All it earned him was a single sentence from me: Don't follow me.
Now here he was. Just like back then. At my side the moment I called.
"Miss Ashford, how did you get this thin?" He strode forward and shrugged off his coat, still warm from his body, draping it over my shoulders.
His gaze dropped to my swollen belly, then lifted to my pale face. The look in his eyes turned cold enough to kill.
"Quinn, I'm fine." I sank into the back seat, letting my head fall against the leather. "Take me back to the estate."
The car pulled smoothly away from the hospital.
The cabin was quiet. Then Quinn's phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen and let out a soft, humorless laugh.
"Stephens canceled your credit cards. He also froze that savings account you'd been using as a cover identity." Quinn's eyes found mine in the rearview mirror. "He even put the word out to every hotel in Crestfield: anyone who takes you in is making an enemy of the Stephens Group."
I tugged at the corner of my mouth.
William Stephens was nothing if not controlling.
He thought cutting off my money would send me crawling back to the mansion the way I had for the past five years, ready to apologize, maybe even pour tea for Alma Harding like a servant.
"He's always believed those few thousand dollars a month in living expenses were some kind of gift he was graciously bestowing on me."
I closed my eyes. "Let him."
"Miss Ashford, say the word." Quinn's voice held no warmth at all. "The Stephens Group will be gone from Crestfield by tonight."
