Chapter 164

Angela POV

"He didn't go?" My voice sounded strange to my own ears, barely audible yet somehow too loud in the quiet of my office.

Marcus leaned forward, clearly relishing his role as information broker. "No, he didn't. Sean Shaw never showed up at his own engagement party with Christina Jordan."

I forced my expression to remain neutral, though I felt anything but composed. "Then what happened?"

"At first, Wall Street insiders were speculating wildly. According to my media friends who were there, the venue was decorated extravagantly." Marcus's eyes gleamed with the thrill of sharing insider knowledge. "But no photos were published. Anyone who tried would have lost their job immediately. The story was completely suppressed."

"Then how do you know all this?" I asked, working to keep my voice steady.

"I was working at Shaw Group back then," Marcus replied with undisguised pride. "I was actually at the engagement party! You should have seen Christina Jordan's devastated expression. She was still holding her bouquet, looking utterly abandoned. It was quite the spectacle."

"You were there? You really are incredibly nosy." I deflected, uncomfortable with how this information was affecting me.

Marcus shrugged, unperturbed by my comment. "My point is, I don't think your assumption about Mr. Shaw having a girlfriend is accurate. In all these years, he hasn't had any stable female companions." He paused, studying my face carefully.

"Perhaps he genuinely just wants to help raise the children? Or maybe... Angela, why did you two divorce in the first place? Is it possible there was some misunderstanding between you?"

"That's enough," I cut him off, my voice turning to ice. "Whether there was a misunderstanding or not, I know exactly what happened."

Marcus retreated slightly, recognizing he'd crossed a line. As he left my office, I turned to the window, my mind racing.

Sean hadn't attended the engagement party with Christina? That contradicted everything I'd believed for five years.

Yet just last month at the charity auction, I'd seen them together, her red lips whispering in his ear, her arm linked through his.

What was I even thinking? Why should I care about Sean's relationships? The only thing that mattered was protecting my children from his sudden interest in claiming them.

I tried to focus on work, but Marcus's words kept echoing in my mind.

Is it possible there was some misunderstanding between you?

The afternoon dragged by in a haze of meetings and phone calls, none of which I could fully concentrate on. As evening approached, my phone chimed with a message from Sean. My stomach dropped as I read it:

Sean: "I had no important business at the company today, so I left early and picked up the children from school. I've taken them home to play. You can come directly here after work."

My fingers trembled as I typed back:

Me: "I do not agree."

Sean: "What don't you agree with?"

Me: "I don't agree with you taking my children to your home. Please respect my wishes."

I gripped the phone tighter, tension building in my chest with each passing second.

Sean: "Angela, do I need to remind you? Aria and Ethan are my children too."

Me: "No reminder needed. They're the children I raised. I know exactly whose children they are, and they're certainly not yours."

I stood abruptly, as if preparing for physical confrontation, though Sean was miles away.

Sean: "Is that so? Then perhaps I should take them for a paternity test?"

The threat sent ice through my veins. Every word he typed was a calculated move in a game where my children were the prize.

Me: "Just don't take my children away."

I hated how my words read like a plea rather than a command. I despised this feeling of powerlessness.

Sean: "We're already in the car, heading home."

Sean: "If you're planning to call, remember to control your emotions. The children are with me."

My hand shook as I set down the phone. He had outmaneuvered me completely. I couldn't even express my anger over the phone because the children would hear. Each time I reread his threat about paternity testing, my stomach clenched painfully.

I grabbed my coat and purse, heading for the door. "I'm leaving early today," I called to my assistant as I rushed past.

In the elevator, I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my breathing. Sean had taken my children without permission. He was asserting control over the situation, over them-over me.

As the elevator descended, a cold determination settled in my chest.

If this was how it would be-Sean making unilateral decisions about my children, threatening paternity tests, gradually inserting himself into their lives-then I needed to take more drastic measures.

Perhaps it was time to consider returning to Europe permanently. I could take the children back to Italy, away from Sean Shaw and his machinations.