Chapter 156

Angela POV

I forced a cold laugh. "You're giving yourself too much credit. Green eyes aren't exactly rare."

"If they're not mine," Sean countered smoothly, "then whose are they?"

The question hung between us like a blade. I clenched my jaw, fury building in my chest.

"They're not yours," I hissed. "You have no right to them."

Sean stepped closer, his voice dropping to that dangerous, silky tone I remembered all too well. "Even without a DNA test, I'm certain they're my children, Angela. It's obvious they're my flesh and blood."

"We've been divorced for five years," I shot back. "You have no legal right to demand anything from my children."

"Our divorce was finalized when you were already pregnant," Sean observed, his eyes never leaving mine. "A fact you conveniently failed to mention."

I fell silent, memories flooding back-five years ago, when I had texted him about my pregnancy. His response had been nothing but silence, followed by insisting on our divorce. He clearly hadn't wanted our children. That painful rejection had sealed my decision to leave without further discussion about the pregnancy.

"I just want to fulfill my responsibilities as their father," Sean continued, his tone softening slightly. "I've missed five years of their lives already."

"That's rich," I snapped. "You didn't even know they existed until recently, and now suddenly you want to play the devoted father?"

"I acknowledge my failings," he admitted, shocking me with his candor. "But I have the resources to give them everything they deserve-the Shaw family name, the best education, opportunities beyond what you could imagine."

"We were doing perfectly fine without you," I countered, stepping back. "Don't disrupt the life we've built just because your conscience is suddenly bothering you."

Sean's expression hardened. "They're my children too, Angela. If necessary, I have an entire legal team prepared to establish my parental rights."

Something cold and primal surged through me-the fierce protective instinct of a mother. I turned away, my voice low and dangerous.

"No one will take my children," I warned. "Not even you."

Inside the school, I immediately transformed my expression, softening my features as Aria spotted me and came running.

"Mommy!" she called excitedly. "Did you talk to Mr. Night? Isn't he handsome?"

I knelt down, embracing her tightly. "Aria, sweetheart, I need you to promise me something. You can't eat the food Mr. Night brings anymore, okay?"

Her small face crumpled in confusion. "But why? His food is so yummy!"

"Because..." I hesitated, searching for words a five-year-old would understand.

"Mommy," Aria interrupted, her eyes lighting up with inspiration, "why don't you just let Mr. Night be my daddy? Then it would be okay, right?"

I froze, her innocent suggestion striking me like a physical blow.

"It sounds like an excellent proposal," Sean's smooth voice came from behind me. I hadn't even heard him approach.

I stood, positioning myself slightly in front of Aria. "Mr. Shaw," I greeted icily.

"Ms. Wilson," he nodded, then smiled warmly at my daughter. "Aria seems quite fond of me. Perhaps you should consider her suggestion seriously."

"Mr. Night," Aria tugged at his sleeve, "do you like my mommy?"

Sean crouched down to her level, his eyes twinkling with calculated charm. "I liked your mommy from the very first moment I saw her. Love at first sight, you might say."

"What's love at first sight?" Aria asked, fascinated.

"It means Mr. Night admires your mother very much," Sean explained gently.

I recognized his strategy immediately-using the children to manipulate the situation. I'd seen him deploy similar tactics in business negotiations countless times.

"Aria, Ethan," I interjected firmly, "it's time to return to class."

Ethan, who had been watching silently from a few feet away, approached cautiously. I noticed how he deliberately avoided coming too close to Sean-a stark contrast to his previously reported friendliness toward "Mr. Night." This brought me a sense of relief; my more mature Ethan always stood firmly by my side.

As Tommy prepared to follow them, he glanced uncertainly at Sean, who gave him a subtle nod of permission. The interaction confirmed my suspicions about their relationship.

With the children gone, I began mechanically gathering the elaborate lunch spread from the table.

"Don't touch that," Sean said sharply. "I've arranged for it to be taken care of."

I arched an eyebrow. "You clean up after yourself now? I thought the Shaw family was above such menial tasks."

"Tommy isn't actually my relative," Sean admitted unexpectedly. "He's from a distant branch of the Shaw family. I arranged for him to attend this school to facilitate my relationship with the twins."

The casual admission of his manipulation infuriated me. "You used an innocent child as a pawn?"

"I'm providing him with opportunities he wouldn't otherwise have," Sean countered. "His family is grateful. And it allowed me to know my children."

"They were doing perfectly fine without you," I repeated, gathering my purse. "We don't need Shaw money or Shaw opportunities. We just need peace."

Sean remained seated, watching me intently. "I've already set up education trust funds for them. It's the least I can do after missing five years."

I turned away, exhaustion suddenly weighing heavily on my shoulders. "Stay away from us, Sean. Please."

Back at my office, I couldn't focus on work. Files remained untouched on my desk as I stared blankly at my computer screen, mind racing with contingency plans. What if Sean pursued legal action? What rights did he have after five years of absence, even if unintentional?

By late afternoon, Marcus stopped by my office, concern etched on his face. "Angela? We need your input on the Davidson portfolio."

"Not now," I replied distractedly, gathering my belongings. "I need to pick up the children."

As I drove to the school, an unexplainable sense of dread built in my chest. The afternoon traffic seemed deliberately designed to slow my progress, each red light a personal affront.

When I finally arrived, the administrative assistant's expression immediately set off alarms.

"Ms. Wilson," she began hesitantly, "the children have already been picked up."

"What?" I gripped the counter. "By whom?"

"Their father," she replied, checking her records. "Mr. Shaw. He's on the approved list."

"I never put him on any list!" I protested, panic rising in my throat.

"I'm sorry, but he showed proper identification and legal documents. The children seemed to know him well."

Fumbling for my phone, I dialed Sean's number repeatedly, each unanswered call increasing my panic. After the sixth attempt, I made my decision.

"I'm going to the Shaw Tower," I said through clenched teeth, already heading for the door.

As I drove toward midtown, I dialed my attorney's number with trembling fingers. My hands shook with a mixture of fear and fury as I gripped the steering wheel. Sean Shaw had just declared war on the wrong mother.