Isabella Moretti stood in the marble lobby of Croft Tower, her hand resting protectively over her coat where the slight curve of her pregnancy was hidden. She approached the security desk with the confidence of a woman who had once been the only person Malcolm Fotheringham listened to.
“I need to see the CEO,” Isabella said. “Tell him Bella is here.”
“Mr. Fotheringham is in meetings,” a sharp voice cut in.
Seraphina Rivers stepped out from the elevators. She wore a new, expensive suit–part of the “lifestyle upgrade” she had negotiated as Malcolm’s public face. She scanned Isabella with the predatory gaze of a survivor who recognized a threat.
“Seraphina,” Isabella nodded coolly. “I didn’t know prisons released early for bad fashion.”
“And I didn’t know Malcolm’s ex-girlfriends from London were still chasing him,” Seraphina countered, stepping closer to block Isabella’s path to the turnstiles. “He knows you’re here, Bella. He told me to tell you that he doesn’t have time for nostalgia. He’s building an empire, and you’re just a distraction.”
It was a lie–Malcolm didn’t know she was in the building–but it worked. Isabella felt the sting of rejection. She looked at the elevators, thinking of the child she carried, but pride stopped her from begging. She wouldn’t force a father on her child if he didn’t want them.
“Fine,” Isabella said, turning on her heel. “Keep your gate, Seraphina. But tell him the walls he’s building will eventually fall on him.”