Chapter 107
Claire's POV:
I watched the knife flash in the afternoon light.
Maya froze, eyes wide on the blade. I stepped forward.
A hand yanked her back.
She stumbled into someone's chest. The knife sliced empty air.
I looked up.
Adam.
His face—God, his face. I'd never seen him look like that.
This was murder in his eyes.
"No," I whispered.
The knife slipped from my fingers. It clattered on the concrete.
"Adam, it's not—it's not what it looks like." My voice came out high, desperate. "She hit me. Look." I pointed at my swollen cheek. "She kicked me. I think she broke my ribs. I was just—I was just defending myself. I wasn't going to actually—"
His foot connected with my stomach.
I flew backward. Hit the ground hard. Couldn't breathe.
What the fuck just happened?
I lay there, gasping, staring at the oil-stained concrete. My vision blurred.
He kicked me.
Adam Sterling kicked me.
I heard Maya laugh. Sharp and cold.
Slowly, I lifted my head. Adam stood over me, hands in his pockets, expression glacial.
"Are your ribs broken now?" His voice was conversational.
I coughed. Tasted copper.
"Claire." He crouched down. "I let you off easy before. You know why? Because you saved my life in Rochester. I figured I owed you that much."
"But then you had to go after Maya."
He stood.
"She's my life. You touch her, I'm done being grateful."
I grabbed his leg. "Please. Please, Adam, I didn't mean it. I wasn't going to hurt her. I swear—"
He shook me off like I was a bug.
Pulled out his phone. Dialed.
"Yes, I'd like to report an assault with a deadly weapon..."
No. No no no.
I scrambled to my feet. Or tried to. Maya's shoe caught me in the side.
I went down again.
Every time I pushed myself up, she kicked me back down. Not hard enough to really injure. Just hard enough to humiliate.
I gave up. Stayed on the ground.
Looked up at Adam through my hair.
"That kid isn't yours, is it?" The words came out thick. "It's hers. From some other guy."
I took out a loan for that investigator. Went into debt to get those files. The report said she had a boyfriend in Cleveland five years ago. Said the kid was his.
But when I saw the photo of that man... he looked exactly like Adam. The same face. I couldn't believe it.
I watched his face. Waited for doubt. Anger. Anything.
"Amy is Maya's and mine," he said flatly.
"No." I shook my head. "That's impossible."
"Believe what you want."
But I knew.
I'd given Mrs. Sterling those files. She'd looked at the photos.
And nothing happened.
No scandal. No breakup.
Which meant...
Oh God.
The kid really was his.
I'd lost.
Not to some other woman.
To a version of Maya I never saw coming.
A Maya who'd already had his child. Who'd been part of his life longer than I even knew.
I put my forehead on the concrete.
Didn't move when the cops came.
---
Maya's POV:
I sat in the passenger seat of Adam's Aston Martin, staring at my phone.
One missed call from Julian.
I called back.
"Maya, are you okay? What happened?"
"I'm fine." I glanced at Adam. His jaw was tight. "Claire showed up in the parking garage. She had a knife. Adam called the cops. I just finished giving my statement."
Silence on the other end.
"Are you hurt?"
"No. I'm heading back to the office now."
"Good. We'll talk when you get here."
I hung up.
The air in the car turned sour.
I turned to Adam. "Are you... jealous?"
"Can you quit the job?"
"We've been over this."
"Maya." He pulled up to a red light. Turned to me. "Every man who looks at you wants you. I'm not blind. And I'm not secure enough to be okay with you spending eight hours a day with one of them."
I stared at him.
"If that makes me jealous," he continued, "fine. I'm jealous. But I'd rather be honest about it than pretend I'm cool with sharing your time with Julian fucking Garrison."
The light turned green.
He accelerated.
"So," he said, voice tight, "will you quit? Or do I have to keep showing up at your office every day until he gets the message?"
I looked out the window.
God, he's insufferable.
And I kind of like it.
"I'll think about it," I said finally.
He smiled. Small, but real. "That's all I'm asking."
---
We drove in silence for a few minutes.
Then he said, "Did you like the house?"
I bit my lip. "Yes."
"Then why won't you move in?"
"Adam..." I sighed. "It's too much."
"It's a house."
"It's a brownstone in Brookline. Do you know what those cost?"
"Do you care?"
I looked at him. "Of course I care. It's—it's not mine. I didn't earn it."
"You didn't earn Amy either," he said quietly. "But you kept her."
My throat tightened.
"Maya." He reached over, took my hand. "I know you're used to doing everything yourself. But you don't have to anymore. Let me give you this. For Amy. She deserves a yard. A nice room. Space to grow."
"I—"
"And honestly?" He squeezed my fingers. "I can't sleep knowing you and Amy are in that shitty apartment while I'm in a penthouse. It makes me feel like an asshole."
"You are an asshole."
He grinned. "Then let me be a comfortable asshole. Move into the house."
I pulled my hand away. "If I move into Marlborough Street, will you stop showing up at my apartment every night?"
He didn't answer.
I laughed. "That's what I thought."
"Okay, fine." He stopped at another light. "If you don't move, I'm just going to keep sleeping on your couch."
"You already do that."