"I'm insane? Adrian, don't you know in your heart what filthy things you've done?"
His grip loosened. A flicker of panic entered his eyes.
In the brittle silence, my phone dinged.
The expedited paternity test results.
I glanced at the screen. The data confirmed everything.
The rage I'd been choking down erupted. I grabbed the heavy ceramic teacup from the nightstand and smashed it against his forehead.
*CRASH.*
"Adrian Vance, you *bastard*! How could you deceive me like this?"
Blood trickled down his brow, stark crimson against pale skin.
He stumbled back, hand pressed to the wound. Three long seconds passed.
Then something shifted in his expression. The mask slipped away. An eerie calm settled over his features.
"Hailey... so you know."
He frowned, his voice dropping to something cold and transactional.
"I admit I deceived you. But for the past two years, my care was real."
"Precisely because I wronged you, I tried my best to be a good husband. I gave you resources. I made sure your stepmother didn't dare look down on you. Isn't that more tangible than useless romance?"
"You can't have everything. I gave you the dignity of being Mrs. Vance. I just kept a little bit of true feeling for Sara. Is that really so excessive?"
I stared at him.
It was the first time I'd ever heard someone speak so self-righteously about manipulation and betrayal.
Since he had no bottom line, neither did I.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat.
"Adrian. Transfer twenty percent of the company shares to me. Do it, and I'll let your happy little family reunite."
My voice turned to ice.
"Refuse... and you can wait to collect your son's corpse."
His pupils constricted. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
"Hailey Henson. Don't push me. If you dare touch a hair on Bubu's head, I will pull every cent of investment from the Henson family. Your father will be bankrupt by morning."
I scoffed.
"I don't give a damn."
Thomas Henson only had eyes for his new wife and young son. From the moment my mother died, I had no home.
I unlocked my phone and held the screen up to his face.
The video played: a tiny baby screaming, his face turning a terrifying shade of violet.
"I don't know how long he can hold on, Adrian. Four hours without food or water. Just waiting for his biological father to save him."
His expression darkened. He stepped forward to grab me—