The standoff was broken not by a punch, but by the click of a cane on the linoleum floor.
“William. Stop making a scene. You look like a brawler, not a CEO.”
William froze. He turned to see a woman standing at the end of the hallway. She was small, dressed in an immaculate charcoal tweed suit with a string of pearls that cost more than the hospital wing. Her silver hair was coiffed into a rigid helmet of perfection.
Lady Beatrice Croft had arrived.
“Grandmother,” William said, straightening his tie instinctively. “What are you doing here?”
“Cleaning up your mess, as usual,” Beatrice said, walking past him without a glance. She stopped in front of Dominic. She looked him up and down with the disdain one might show a stray dog. “Mr. Valerius. Your services as a glorified taxi driver are appreciated. You may go.”
“I’m not leaving her,” Dominic said, crossing his arms.
“You are,” Beatrice corrected, her voice light but steely. “Unless you wish for my legal team to file a restraining order for harassment of a vulnerable patient? We wouldn’t want the press to think you’re preying on a married woman in a delicate condition.”
She didn’t wait for his response. She signaled to her personal security detail to stand guard at the door, effectively locking Dominic out. Then, she turned to William.
“Come,” she ordered.
Inside the room, Victoria was awake, staring at the ceiling, her hand protective over her stomach. She stiffened as the door opened.
Beatrice walked to the bedside. She didn’t ask how Victoria was feeling. She didn’t offer comfort. She looked at Victoria’s stomach with a terrifying, predatory focus.
“So,” Beatrice said, “there is an heir after all.”
“Get out,” Victoria whispered, clutching the sheets.
“Don’t be childish, my dear,” Beatrice said, pulling up a chair. “You have proven yourself incapable of managing a pregnancy. collapsing on stage? Living in a studio apartment? Unacceptable.”
She leaned in, her eyes hard as flint. “You will be discharged tomorrow. You will move into the East Wing of Croft Manor immediately. You will be monitored by our private physicians.”
“I will never go back to that house,” Victoria said, her voice shaking.
“Then I will file for emergency custody on the grounds of maternal negligence and mental instability,” Beatrice smiled, a thin, cruel expression. “I have photos of you fainting. I have witness testimony of your erratic behavior. I have the best lawyers in the country. If you want to keep this baby, Victoria, you will do it under my roof.”