The Ex Who Stole My Delivery Room - Chapter 15: Chapter 15
You are reading The Ex Who Stole My Delivery Room, Chapter 15: Chapter 15. Read more chapters of The Ex Who Stole My Delivery Room.
Russo's eyes darkened as he locked onto Harris, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. Harris instinctively stepped back, but Russo's next words froze him in place.
"Threaten my girlfriend again, and you'll regret it. Let's get one thing straight—Darcy's under my protection now. Lay a finger on her, and you answer to me."
Harris paled but tried to keep his cool. "This doesn't involve you, Russo. This is between me and Darcy."
A humorless laugh escaped Russo's lips. "You really think you can take me on? I'm not some pushover, Harris. One call from me, and your reputation, your business—your whole damn life—goes up in smoke. Don't push your luck."
Harris's eyes widened as the reality sank in. He retreated another step, voice shaking. "I—I was just looking out for my son."
Russo's expression turned glacial. "Your son? The one you walked out on? The kid you couldn't even bother to check on after he was born? Don't play the devoted dad now. You lost that privilege years ago."
Harris's face flushed with anger, but the truth in Russo's words hit home. He had no leg to stand on.
Then Russo turned to me, his gaze softening. "You okay, Darcy?"
I nodded, still rattled. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."
His eyes flicked back to Harris, sharp as knives. "Last warning. Stay away from Darcy and Ethan. Cross me, and you'll wish you hadn't."
With that, he slid an arm around my shoulders. "Let's go. We've got things to discuss."
As we walked away, relief washed over me. Russo had just saved me from a disaster, and I was grateful. But a nagging unease lingered. This man was powerful—ruthless, even. And the way he knew things about me without me saying a word? That should've terrified me. Yet somehow, I didn't feel threatened.
Now, though, I wasn't so sure. Was getting involved with Russo—dating him, letting him into my life—really the right move? Before I could dwell on it, a legal notice arrived. Harris had ignored Russo's warning and filed for custody of Ethan.
His letter was smug: "No amount of money or influence scares me, Russo. The judges and lawyers I know don't bow to power. In fact, your interference will only hurt Darcy's case." He sounded so damn confident, like the verdict was already his.
Outside the courtroom, my fingers twisted nervously. Harris's lawyer had been bombarding me with threats for weeks. He wouldn't stop until he got Ethan.
Just as panic started creeping in, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
"Hey, relax. We've got this."
I turned to see Russo—sharp suit, perfect hair, that unshakable confidence in his eyes. Just his presence eased the knot in my chest.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound composed.
"Where else would I be?" He took my hand, his grip steady. "You shouldn't face this alone."
My throat tightened. "Thanks. That... means a lot."
He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get through this. With my lawyer on our side, we're winning."
I nodded, but my gut churned. The court wouldn't care about Russo's money. They'd crucify me for hiding Ethan's birth from Harris. They'd compare my income to his and call it a day. In this country, a father could raise a kid with his mistress and still win. But a mother with a new partner—or worse, alone? No chance.
That's why Harris was so sure he'd win. Even against a billionaire.
"Threaten my girlfriend again, and you'll regret it. Let's get one thing straight—Darcy's under my protection now. Lay a finger on her, and you answer to me."
Harris paled but tried to keep his cool. "This doesn't involve you, Russo. This is between me and Darcy."
A humorless laugh escaped Russo's lips. "You really think you can take me on? I'm not some pushover, Harris. One call from me, and your reputation, your business—your whole damn life—goes up in smoke. Don't push your luck."
Harris's eyes widened as the reality sank in. He retreated another step, voice shaking. "I—I was just looking out for my son."
Russo's expression turned glacial. "Your son? The one you walked out on? The kid you couldn't even bother to check on after he was born? Don't play the devoted dad now. You lost that privilege years ago."
Harris's face flushed with anger, but the truth in Russo's words hit home. He had no leg to stand on.
Then Russo turned to me, his gaze softening. "You okay, Darcy?"
I nodded, still rattled. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."
His eyes flicked back to Harris, sharp as knives. "Last warning. Stay away from Darcy and Ethan. Cross me, and you'll wish you hadn't."
With that, he slid an arm around my shoulders. "Let's go. We've got things to discuss."
As we walked away, relief washed over me. Russo had just saved me from a disaster, and I was grateful. But a nagging unease lingered. This man was powerful—ruthless, even. And the way he knew things about me without me saying a word? That should've terrified me. Yet somehow, I didn't feel threatened.
Now, though, I wasn't so sure. Was getting involved with Russo—dating him, letting him into my life—really the right move? Before I could dwell on it, a legal notice arrived. Harris had ignored Russo's warning and filed for custody of Ethan.
His letter was smug: "No amount of money or influence scares me, Russo. The judges and lawyers I know don't bow to power. In fact, your interference will only hurt Darcy's case." He sounded so damn confident, like the verdict was already his.
Outside the courtroom, my fingers twisted nervously. Harris's lawyer had been bombarding me with threats for weeks. He wouldn't stop until he got Ethan.
Just as panic started creeping in, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
"Hey, relax. We've got this."
I turned to see Russo—sharp suit, perfect hair, that unshakable confidence in his eyes. Just his presence eased the knot in my chest.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sound composed.
"Where else would I be?" He took my hand, his grip steady. "You shouldn't face this alone."
My throat tightened. "Thanks. That... means a lot."
He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get through this. With my lawyer on our side, we're winning."
I nodded, but my gut churned. The court wouldn't care about Russo's money. They'd crucify me for hiding Ethan's birth from Harris. They'd compare my income to his and call it a day. In this country, a father could raise a kid with his mistress and still win. But a mother with a new partner—or worse, alone? No chance.
That's why Harris was so sure he'd win. Even against a billionaire.
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