Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 180

Chapter 175: Make a choice

Logan’s POV

Another pause.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll file the response Monday. He replied as I nodded my head, relaxing a bit. Sedona thought she could do whatever she wanted and I would let her. She wouldn’t let me see her, refuse to talk to me, call hooligans she kept under the guise of them being self appointed bodyguard and she had the guts to fight for custody. I would show her why she should never mess with me.

“Good,” I said.

“Logan.” He paused one more time as if remembering something else as he spoke. “The stalking complaint is going to require a response too, they have already filed one and it’s registered in the database. We need to get ahead of that before it becomes-”

“I’ll call you Monday,” I said.

I ended the call.

Stood in the hallway.

She’d filed behind my back.

She was in Seattle getting better, building her life with her family and Dante Wells and whoever the second man was that I didn’t have a full picture of yet, but could clearly see was also an obstacle that I needed to take care of, and she’d filed a custody claim. She was trying to take Nick from me.

She’d been calling him. The card he’d made a card, he’d made a card in this house and hadn’t told me, had sent it to her without me knowing anything about it.

I thought about the call I’d had with him on the road in Seattle. Him asking if I’d found a way for them to talk, and me thinking he didn’t know she was reachable, me thinking she’d cut off all contact.

He’d known. He’d been calling her while I was in Seattle trying to find her. And he had refused to tell me that, that was why he wasn’t bothered or sad when I told him I wasn’t able to reach her and why he wanted me home. He was already communicating with her directly while I was struggling to get an audience with her.

I stood in the hallway with that.

She hadn’t wanted to see me at all.

But she’d called my son.

She’d called him and she’d sent him her number and they’d had three documented phone calls and now she had a lawyer and a filing and a stalking complaint with my name on it and medical records that Frank had apparently provided in support of her argument.

She’d been planning this while I was watching the house.

Make A Choice

While I was sitting in the motel room trying to find the angle, trying to figure out what approach would work, she’d been assembling a legal case.

I thought about the garden.

Claim

The way she’d looked at me not angry, not broken, not the way I’d expected. Steady. Like someone who knew where they were going and wasn’t going to be moved from it by anything I said.

She’d known then.

She’d been building toward this already when I’d been standing in her parents’ garden trying to get her to come home.

I walked back into the kitchen.

Nick was still at the table with his tablet, the limited weekend screen time probably almost used up because he was terrible at tracking time. Mrs. Peterson’s sounds in the laundry room. The house doing its Sunday morning things.

I looked at my son.

He was going to meet with Sedona’s lawyers. He was going to sit across from someone and be asked about his preferences, what he wanted, who he wanted to live with. A six-year-old who’d been calling his mother for weeks, who’d made a card in this kitchen and sent it to Seattle.

She was going to use that. Her lawyer was going to use all of it.

I thought about Dante Wells in the hospital corridor. The lingering around his wife, building a life that seemed to exclude him out of it.

Sedona was building a life in Seattle with her family around her and a man who’d apparently been interested in her for fifteen years and who was inserting himself into the picture with his own child, making a ready-made family, making a picture of something she could offer Nick that I was supposed to compete with from a position that included a stalking complaint that was reflecting badly on me and a way that I had no idea how to refute it or come up with a reasonable excuse on how to defend my actions.

She wanted to take Nick into that picture.

She wanted to take my son and rebuild in Seattle with Dante Wells and his kid and her parents and Cameron and all of it, and leave me with whatever was left.

Not on my watch.

“Dad?”

Nick was looking at me from the table.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You’re doing the face.”

“What face?” I said.

“The far-away one,” he said. “When you’re thinking about something else.”

Make A Choree

Hooked at my son.

Claim

He was looking at me with Sedona’s eyes, which I’d always known and had never said to either of them. The way he took things in. The checking quality.

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