Page 3 of Secret Seduction

She slides into her seat and starts plating up her food. I wait until she has poured herself a glass of wine and is about to dig in before I pull the rug out from under her.

“This is for you.” I hand her the manila folder, and her brows furrow in confusion.

She carefully sets her fork down and slowly opens it up.

“What is this?” she asks, glancing up at me, even though I know on the top—in big, bold letters—it specifies what the papers are for.

“Voluntary termination of parental rights. You’re going to sign the papers and then leave.”

“Excuse me?” She flinches like she’s been slapped. “You … you can’t take my son from me.”

“You don’t even want him,” I point out, keeping my anger in check. “He was simply a way to work your way back into my life.”

I slide the text messages I printed across the table, which prove she not only lied about having postpartum depression, but also outline everything she did, including stealing from me.

“You hacked into my phone?” she hisses, quickly losing her cool. “How dare you! That’s an invasion of privacy. I could sue you⁠—”

I bark out a laugh and slide the second set of papers across the table. “You could, but that won’t negate the fact that you stole one-point-two million dollars from me. And since I have proof, I can sue you, and you’ll go to jail for five to ten years for grand theft.” I tsk. “If you were going to risk jail time, you really should’ve transferred more. One-point-two million?” I scoff. “That’s chump change compared to what I’m worth.”

She splutters, shocked at the turn of events, and I wish I had set up a camera to record this to watch in the future. I’m sure Matteo would’ve gotten a kick out of it—he warned me about her from the beginning.

“So, I sign the papers, and I can keep the money?” she asks, adding to the reasons why I despise this woman. There’s no amount of money anyone could offer me that would have me willingly giving up my son.

“Sign the papers and get the fuck out of my home.”

She assumes that means she can keep the money—and that was intentional on my part—so she signs them and is about to head to her room to grab her stuff when I stop her.

“Everything in that room I paid for. You can leave with what you came with … your thieving fucking self.”

She huffs. “Fine. Have a nice life, Lorenzo.”

She stalks out of the condo, and I first call Ronald, the doorman who’s on duty, to make sure he notes that she’s not welcome back up here at any time. And then I text Eddy.

Me: Papers are signed. Make the transfer.

Eddy: Done.

I sit back down at the table and eat my dinner since I’m hungry and it’s delicious, knowing this isn’t over, but satisfied that even though she tried to screw me over, I got the last laugh.

It sucks that my son will grow up without a mom, but it’s better than having one who doesn’t even love him. And I’ll make sure that he’s loved enough for both of us.

I’m just taking my last bite when Ronald calls me.

“Miss Sparks is back. I explained she’s not on the list, but she’s throwing a fit.”

“Put her on, please.”

“Lorenzo!” she shrieks. “How fucking dare you! You said I could keep the money!”

“I didn’t say anything of the sort. Now, leave and be glad I’m not forcing you to rot in prison. Didn’t you once say that orange wasn’t your color?”

I hang up and text Matteo.

Lorenzo

It’s done. Can you please make sure she never comes back?

Matteo