Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 144

Chapter 139: Making Plans

Logan’s POV

Claim

Reeve said nothing, which was his way of minding his business, not getting involved in things that didn’t concern him. I gritted my teeth as I refused to tell him about what happened at the garden:

“Is there anything else?” I asked, my hand clenching my phone tightly.

“Nothing that changes what I’ve already told you,” Reeve said, calmly. “Mr. Hayes”

“Thank you,” I said.

I ended the call.

I sat in room fourteen of the motel that I have been staying in and looked at the wall and thought about six weeks of daily hospital visits from a man who had been hovering around a sick woman refusing to leave.

She’d told me she was an orphan.

I’d accepted it because it was convenient, because a woman with no family was a woman with no complications, no people who might ask questions or turn up and demand answers or turn their noses in our private business.

She’d had a family the entire time. A house full of people; relatives and friends who loved her, a mother, father and a brother who had looked at me on the phone with years of cold protection in his voice.

And now a man with a child with no lingering wives or spouses in the picture who also had professional reflexes who visited hospitals daily and stayed in cities longer than he’d planned to stay.

I’d built a life with a woman I hadn’t known. Had been married for three years to someone whose name wasn’t Hayes, whose family was in Seattle, whose past included complications that were currently hindering me from seeing her.

I stood up.

Went to the window. The motel parking lot, orange under the security lights, empty except for four cars including my rental.

The custody arrangement.

I’d been avoiding that thought because the shape of it was one I didn’t like looking at directly, but I looked at it now. Sedona had signed away parental rights.

My lawyer had walked me through the document at the time, had explained what it meant, had noted with the careful neutrality of someone noting something significant that it was unusual and was fully her choice and was legally binding.

I called him.

He answered on the third ring with the voice of someone who was aware it was late and was being

13

Making Aangements

professional about that awareness.

Clair

“The custody document,” I said. “Sedona’s relinquishment of our son. Walk me through what it means practically.” I said, still not able to believe Sedona who had given everything up for our child was able to give up all rights to seeking him.

A pause. “Logan, it’s-it’s binding. She relinquished parental rights voluntarily, the document was witnessed correctly, it’s been filed.” His voice was careful. “Is there a specific aspect you’re-”

“Can it be used,” I said. “If I wanted to establish something. Demonstrate that she left Nick deliberately, that she’s been absent, that-”

“Used in what context?” he asked, more carefully, not yet sure about what I was trying to use this angle to

“If I wanted to bring Nick into this,” I said.”Into whatever-if I needed leverage.”

The silence from my lawyer had a specific quality

“Logan,” he said. “Nick is five-six years old. If you’re suggesting using him as leverage in a custody dispute, I need to be very clear that the court’s primary consideration is-”

“I’m not asking about the court’s consideration,” I said. “I’m’asking whether it can be used.”

“Anything can be argued,” he said, in the voice of a lawyer who was choosing his words with more than professional care. “But using a child as leverage in what appears to be a-Logan, what is the end goal here? Is this about Nick, or is this about Sedona?”

I said nothing..

“Because if this is about Sedona,” he said, “then I’d strongly advise-”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said.

I ended the call.

Stood in the orange-lit room.

There was another number. I’d had it for three weeks, acquired through a channel I’d spent years holding onto but apparently I was desperate enough to something like this to get rid of this person that I didn’t like.

The number was in my phone under a name that wasn’t a name.

I looked at it for a long time.

Dante Wells had stepped between me and Sedona with the efficiency of someone who was accustomed to protecting something. Had delivered *she said no* with the voice of someone who had made that sentence his business.

A man with a child and no partner. A man who had been visiting a hospital every day for six weeks.

I thought about the hand at her waist. The laugh through the doors.

213

Making Alarmente

Claim

Hthought about Nick’s card, still on the counter at home, colored paper and markers, waiting for me to find a way to deliver it.

I thought about the lawyer’s question..>

*What is the end goal here?

I pressed call.

The phone rang twice.

“Yeah,” said the voice on the other end. Not a greeting-just acknowledgment that the line was open.

“How fast,” I said, “can you take a job?”

A pause in which the person on the other end of the line understood the question completely. “Depends on the job.”

“One person,” I said. “Make it look like an accident. Someone athletic. Used to physical situations.” I paused. “He has a son. Four years old. I want it done in a way that the son isn’t-I don’t want the son present.”

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