The Ex Who Stole My Delivery Room - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

I stood frozen, Russo's words hanging in the air like a thunderclap. The reporters were lapping it up, cameras flashing like paparazzi at a red carpet event. My stomach twisted—I felt trapped in some surreal nightmare with no escape.
Then I glanced down at Ethan. That little troublemaker was grinning up at me like the Cheshire Cat, his earlier whisper replaying in my mind: "Just play along for now. That snobby girl and her dad are watching."
Drawing a shaky breath, I forced a smile and slid my arms around Russo's waist. "Yes, we're one happy family," I purred, pouring on the sweetness like maple syrup.
Russo's eyes danced with mischief as he pulled me flush against him. His lips grazed my ear, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine as he murmured, "We could be... if you're interested."
I jerked back like he'd electrocuted me, but Russo just chuckled, his arm becoming an inescapable steel band around my shoulders. The man spun tales for the reporters like Scheherazade, weaving this elaborate fiction about our "relationship" with such conviction I almost believed it myself.
The truth? I'd met this man approximately twelve minutes ago. Was he being chivalrous? Or was there some angle I wasn't seeing?
As the media circus finally dissipated, Russo crouched to Ethan's level. "Listen here, you little rascal," he said, pinching my son's cheeks. "You can't go around calling random men 'Daddy.' You'll get your mom in hot water."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Mr. Russo, I'm so sorry about Ethan's stunt. And... thank you for playing along."
"Don't apologize, Dr. Darcy," he murmured, his breath warm against my neck. "I rather enjoyed the performance."
Another shiver. How did he know my name? My title? But I wasn't sticking around to find out. "Come on, Ethan," I said, grabbing my son's hand. "Time to go."
"Hold up." Russo caught Ethan's other hand, tucking a business card into his pocket. "Next time you need a daddy, champ? Call me. But remember—good boys don't trade in daddies like baseball cards, got it?"
Ethan scrunched his nose. "But you said I can't call just anybody Daddy."
Russo winked. "I'm not just anybody, am I?" The way Ethan's face lit up could've powered Times Square.
As Russo straightened, I hissed, "Why are you encouraging this? He shouldn't be calling strangers—"
"Would you prefer he tries out 'Daddy' on every Tom, Dick, and Harry?" Russo's retort left me speechless. I just scooped up Ethan and marched away.
In the car, I gave Ethan my best mom glare. "That was completely unacceptable. I get wanting to show up that bratty girl, but you can't—"
"But Mom," he interrupted, "he's not a stranger. He said so himself!" We both burst out laughing—until Ethan dropped his bombshell.
"Mom... is Harris Salvador my father?"
My foot slammed the brake. "What? Who told you that?"
"Nobody," he said, all casual like he'd asked about the weather. "The reporters called you his ex-wife, and you were hiding me from him. I just connected the dots."
Sometimes my kid's intelligence terrified me.
I swallowed hard. "Do you... like him?"
"Ew, no," he said instantly. "Good call dumping him."
Tears pricked my eyes. Hearing that from my fatherless son meant more than he'd ever know.
"I don't want a dad like him," Ethan continued. Then, with the subtlety of a grenade: "I want Uncle Russo."
"Why him?" I choked out.
"Because A) he's way hotter and more famous—did you see how the paparazzi ditched Harris for him? And B) he's actually nice. That snotty girl was being awful, and Harris just smiled like a doormat. But when I called Russo 'Daddy' in front of everyone? He rolled with it. Didn't care about looking cool. That's a real one."
My jaw hit the floor. "Wait—this was all a test?"
"Duh," Ethan said, looking at me like I'd asked if water was wet. "That girl was just background noise. I was Daddy shopping."
"You little schemer!" I gasped. "You're too smart for your own good."
"Obviously," he preened. "If you were half as smart as me, you'd never have married Harris in the first place."
I had no comeback for that nuclear truth bomb.