Chapter 9 - Julianna’s Venom|
The morning sun broke through the heavy silk drapes, casting golden beams across the luxurious bedroom.
Nelia woke up to the realization that Diego was gone from the armchair beside her.
A folded note lay on the bedside table beside a steaming cup of decaffeinated tea and a plate of warm croissants.
Had to secure the eastern docks. My men surround the house. You are safe. Eat everything. — D.
Nelia traced the sharp, elegant handwriting with her fingertip, a conflicted warmth blooming in her chest.
Before she could take a bite of food, the bedroom door swung open without a knock.
Nelia gasped, pulling the blanket up to her neck.
Julianna Vance strode into the room, wearing an immaculate beige trench coat and designer sunglasses.
She had bypassed the perimeter using her old security clearance badge from their engagement.
Julianna removed her dark glasses, her eyes gleaming with malice and hatred.
“Look at you,” Julianna sneered, looking around the opulent room with pure disgust.
“Sprawled out like a pampered concubine while Diego cleans up your mess.”
Nelia sat up straighter, refusing to let the woman intimidate her in her own space.
“How did you get in here, Julianna?” Nelia demanded, her voice firm and composed.
“I have friends in high places,” Julianna laughed coldly, tossing an official legal document onto the foot of the bed.
“Sign it.”
Nelia looked down at the thick document.
The bold header at the top read: Irrevocable Surrender of Parental Rights and Non-Disclosure Agreement.
Nelia’s blood ran cold as she read the cruel legal terminology.
“Are you completely insane?” Nelia asked, her eyes flashing with pure maternal fire.
“I will never sign this garbage.”
Julianna stepped closer to the bed, leaning in with a venomous smirk.
“Listen to me, you little gutter rat,” Julianna hissed through clenched teeth.
“Diego’s empire requires political legitimacy.”
“My father controls the grand jury, the federal judges, and the state police.”
“If you stay here, my father will unseal indictments that will put Diego behind bars for three consecutive life sentences.”
Julianna pointed a manicured finger directly at Nelia’s swollen abdomen.
“And while he rots in a federal penitentiary, your little bastard will be placed into the state foster system where accidents happen every single day.”
Nelia felt a cold fury ignite in her chest, burning hotter than any fear she had ever experienced.
She reached out, grabbed the expensive legal document, and ripped it cleanly in half.
She tore it again, and again, until paper confetti fell across the silk duvet.
“Get out of this house before I have Diego’s guards throw you into the street,” Nelia said with chilling calm.
Julianna’s face twisted in rage, and she raised her hand to strike Nelia across the face.
Before her hand could descend, a loud, metallic click echoed through the bedroom doorway.
Marco, Diego’s head of private security, stood in the doorway with his weapon drawn and leveled directly at Julianna’s forehead.
“Take one more step toward Mrs. Ramos, Miss Vance,” Marco said, his voice flat as ice, “and you will leave this room in a body bag.”
Julianna lowered her hand slowly, trembling with rage.
“Mrs. Ramos?” Julianna scoffed loudly.
“She is a divorced waitress!”
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“To Mr. Ramos, she is the only woman who matters,” Marco replied without lowering his gun.
“Now move your feet before I call the boss.”
