Chapter 178

Chapter 178
Lily's POV

The nursery at Silver Peak smelled of lavender and new cotton—expensive, carefully curated calm. I sat in the rocking chair by the window, William asleep against my chest, his small body rising and falling with each breath. Two days since the hearing. Two days of this strange limbo where I had legal custody three days a week and the rest of the time my son lived in a mansion I couldn't call home.

My mother had left this morning, back to Minnesota. Ethan had made that clear when he'd called yesterday, voice careful but firm: "Your position is waiting. Whenever you're ready." And housing too—that small apartment near the office with the subsidized rent, empty and waiting for me to claim it.

I could leave tomorrow if I wanted. Pack William's things, walk out of Silver Peak, start over in that modest one-bedroom where no one would call me Mrs. Carter or expect me to be anything other than myself.

But sitting here with my son warm against me, watching the late afternoon sun paint the mountains gold, I couldn't quite make my body move toward that future.

The door opened without a knock—Ryan's footsteps, hesitant in a way that made my chest tighten. I didn't look up. Couldn't. If I looked at him, I'd have to decide what I felt, and right now the only thing I could afford to feel was the warm solidity of William in my arms.

"Lily." His voice was rough, like he'd been crying or hadn't slept or both. "We need to talk."

We always need to talk, I thought, but didn't say. The words that mattered had already been said in a courtroom two days ago, when a judge decided that my love wasn't enough to outweigh Carter Industrial's resources.

"He's sleeping," I said instead, keeping my voice low. "Can it wait?"

"No." Ryan moved closer, and I caught the scent of his cologne—cedarwood and something sharper, stress maybe. "I don't think it can."

I finally looked up. He looked terrible. Shadows under his eyes, jaw tight, expensive suit somehow rumpled despite the tailoring. He stood at the edge of the nursery like he wasn't sure he had permission to enter, one hand gripping the doorframe.

"The living room," I said quietly, already calculating how far I could get from the nursery before William woke. "Give me ten minutes to put him down."

Ryan nodded and disappeared. I stood carefully, William's head lolling against my shoulder, and carried him to the crib Eleanor had imported from Italy—hand-carved, museum-quality, probably worth more than my parents' house. I laid him down on sheets softer than anything I'd ever owned, watched his face scrunch briefly before settling back into sleep.

"I'll be right down the hall," I whispered, though I didn't know if I was promising him or myself. "Right down the hall."

The living room of the East Wing suite was decorated like a hotel—beautiful, impersonal, nothing that suggested anyone actually lived here. Ryan was standing by the window when I entered, looking out at the mountains, hands shoved in his pockets.

"You wanted to talk," I said, staying near the doorway. Escape route. Always have an escape route.

He turned, and something in his expression made me grip the doorframe the way he had earlier. Desperate. Trapped.

"I need to ask you not to do this," he said.

I blinked. "Not to do what?"

"Leave. Divorce me. Take William away from—" He stopped, swallowed hard. "I know I don't have the right to ask. I know I've already lost any claim to asking you for anything. But I'm asking anyway."

The words hung between us, heavy and impossible. I'd known this conversation was coming—had rehearsed responses during the two sleepless nights since the hearing—but now that it was here, my carefully prepared speeches evaporated.

"Ryan—"

"Just listen. Please." He took a step toward me, then stopped when I tensed. "I know you're planning to leave. I saw the divorce papers Andrea drew up. I know you're going to go back to NexGen and take that apartment and live on your own." Another step. "And I need you to understand why that can't happen."

"Can't?" The word came out sharper than I intended. "You mean shouldn't. Or you mean you won't let it."

"No." He shook his head, and there was something almost frantic in the motion. "I mean it's not safe. Those people who tried to get information about you three months ago—they're still out there. The threats against the company haven't stopped. If you leave Silver Peak, if you try to raise William on your own somewhere, I can't protect you."

"I don't need your protection." But even as I said it, I thought of the car that had nearly hit us. The driver who'd disappeared. The police report that had quietly gone nowhere.

"You do." Ryan's voice cracked. "God, Lily, you do. And even if you could stay safe, even if nothing happened to you—what about William? The court gave me primary custody because they decided this was what's best for him. If you leave now, you'll only see him three days a week. But if you stay—" He gestured around the suite. "If you stay here, you can see him every day. You can be with him every night. Isn't that worth more than pride?"

The word pride hit like a slap. As if that's what this was about. As if I was being stubborn instead of trying to survive.

"This isn't about pride," I said quietly. "This is about the fact that I've spent months being told what's best for me, what's best for William, what's best for the family. And none of those decisions have actually included what I need."

"Then tell me." He closed the distance between us in two strides, stopping just short of touching me. "Tell me what you need. I'll give you anything."

"I need—" The words caught in my throat. What did I need? To not be here. To not be trapped in a gilded cage pretending it was for William's safety. To not be married to a man who kept choosing everyone else until it was too late.

"I need you to let me go," I whispered.