I turned to pace the hallway, trying to settle my nerves—when I saw her.
Celine.
She was striding toward me like she owned the damn place. That same flawless face, hair swept back into a sleek low bun, makeup pristine. A designer coat hugged her frame, and in her arms, an expensive purse I bet Zach bought for her. She smiled like this was brunch, not a confrontation.
“Hello, former Mrs. Hatton,” she jeered, giving me a once-over glance.
I stopped mid-step. “What are you doing here?”
Her heels clicked softly as she slowed. “I heard Liam had a check-up.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you stalking us now?”
She rolled her eyes with a slight chuckle. “Don’t be dramatic, Arianne. I just came to talk. Woman to woman.”
I should have walked away. Should have told her to stay out of my sight. But I didn’t. Maybe because the fire inside me wanted a closer look at the woman Zach had risked it all for.
I walked past her. “Fine. Five minutes. That’s all you get.”
We ended up at the hospital coffee shop, tucked in a quiet corner booth. Celine sat across from me, perfectly poised. “You look tired,” she said, stirring her tea.
“I am tired,” I replied, not bothering with fake smiles. “Because I’m raising my son while cleaning up after your affair.”
Her expression didn’t falter. “You should stop looking at me like I’m the villain. Zach made a choice. I didn’t force him.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “You seduced a married man and now you’re surprised he left?”
She smiled again, slower this time. “He didn’t just leave, Arianne. He left for me. He told me things he couldn’t say to you. That he was suffocating. That he wanted someone who truly saw him.”
I clenched my jaw, blinking away the sting behind my eyes. “Don’t sit here and pretend your relationship was built on anything but betrayal.”
“Call it what you want.” She shrugged, then slid the folder onto the table and flipped it open. “But it doesn’t change the facts. Zach filed for primary custody. He wants Liam to live with us.”
Us.
That word sliced deeper than it should have. “He is my son,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t get to take him and play house.”
She didn’t blink. “He’s our son now. At least, he will be.”
I frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
Celine pulled something from her folder. A small photograph. She placed it in front of me. I bit my inner cheek, holding back my tears.