Chapter 3
Asher pulled me into a tight hug. “When I get back, we’ll have the wedding. And just so you know—whoever backs out is a chicken.” I watched him walk away, unable to stop a bitter smile from curling at my lips. This was the great Asher Lane—confident, commanding, practically royalty in the business world. And yet, so insecure when it came to love? It was already getting dark when I finally made my way home, cradling the bouquet of flowers he gave me. What I didn’t expect was the scene waiting for me on the other side of the door. Lana. And her son. She was lounging on my couch, in my pajamas, casually watching TV. Her son, shoes on and all, was bouncing like a maniac on the designer couch I’d painstakingly chosen—leaving muddy footprints all over the upholstery. That couch cost over ten grand. I felt rage rising in my chest, boiling over—but before I could say a word, Micah walked out of the kitchen. His brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you back?” I choked on my anger for a moment before I forced out a cold reply, “Pretty sure this is still my place.” The boy suddenly chucked his toy at me. “This is my dad’s house. It’s our house. Get out!” I was stunned. Lana, completely unfazed, just smiled sweetly and said, “Oh Riley, don’t mind him. Kids don’t know any better.” Then she walked over and, without asking, snatched the flowers from my hands. “Are these for me and Micah? That’s so thoughtful of you. Thanks for the well wishes.” I tried to take the bouquet back, but her son yanked it away. He threw it to the ground, stomped on it hard and spat, “We don’t want your stupid flowers. Stop trying to suck up to my mom!” I was so furious my head started to throb. “You better pay for that bouquet!” Micah snapped, clearly annoyed. “He’s just a kid. Gosh. How can you stoop to his level?” Then he did the unthinkable—he handed me an apron. “Just go cook dinner. Don’t provoke him.” I let out a disbelieving laugh. “I’m sorry, am I your servant, now? How dare you telling me to cook?” “Could you just stop being difficult?” Micah scowled. “Ever since we left the City Hall, you’ve been nothing but dramatic.” He kept going, voice sharp. “Everything was fine until you showed up and threw it all into chaos. I’m trying to help you here. Just cook something—as a gesture for Lana and her kid.” I locked eyes with him. My voice was low and steady. “You really think I’m the one who ruined everything—that I should apologize?” His gaze wavered. But then he sighed. “Look, the kid’s innocent. You’re the adult here. Can’t you just take the high road for once? I know it’s uncomfortable, but I’ll make it up to you, okay?” Something inside me snapped. “Why does it always have to be me who suffers?” I asked softly. “Was I not innocent too?” His gaze wavered. Before he could respond, the boy came out of nowhere with a dinner fork and jabbed it into my thigh. “Get out! You don’t belong here!” he screamed. I shoved him away, hard. “This house is mine. I paid for it. If anyone’s leaving, it’s you.” He burst into tears and ran straight into Lana’s arms. I had bought this house to start a life with Micah after we got married. But clearly, he’d forgotten that. Instead, he’d decided it would be just the perfect little love nest for him, another woman and her child. Lana wiped at her fake tears, looking tragically heartbroken. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have come. We should probably leave now.” But Micah stepped in immediately, stopping her. He looked genuinely upset. Then he turned to me, anger flaring in his eyes. “It’s already dark out. Where can she go with a kid at this hour? Can’t you show a little compassion?” I let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. But they’re gone by morning—or I’m calling the cops.” Micah’s jaw clenched. “If you’re really going to throw them out… then I’ll leave too.”