I never told my ex-husband or his wealthy family that I was the secret owner of the multi-billion dollar company where they all worked. To them, I was just the "poor, pregnant burden" they tolerated out of obligation.

A week passed in total silence.

I spent my days reclaiming my proper position at the head of the boardroom table.

The company’s profits surged as I personally fired the corrupt, lazy executives Brendan had hired.

On Thursday afternoon, I left the office to attend my routine prenatal checkup at a private, high-end clinic.

As I walked out of the clinic doors, gently rubbing my growing belly, a figure stepped out from behind a parked car.

It was Brendan.

He looked even worse than before, with dark bags under his eyes and a vicious, desperate scowl on his face.

"Hello, Cassidy," Brendan said, stepping into my path.

My two security guards instantly moved forward, but I raised a hand to stop them.

I wanted to hear what kind of foolishness he had cooked up now.

"Make it fast, Brendan. My time is worth five thousand dollars a minute," I said coldly.

He sneered, pulling a folded piece of paper from his jacket.

"It's a notice of intent to sue for full, unmitigated custody of my unborn child," Brendan announced proudly.

I stared at the paper, almost wanting to laugh.

"On what grounds?" I asked, humoring him.

"On the grounds that you are an unstable, vindictive woman who runs a hostile corporate environment," he lied smoothly. "My lawyer says a judge will definitely give me the baby."

"Your lawyer?" I asked. "Which lawyer is brave enough to take your case, Brendan? Because last I checked, every top-tier firm in the city has Vanguard on retainer."

Brendan’s confidence wavered for a second.

"That doesn't matter," he snapped. "You will pay me a settlement of fifty million dollars right now, or I swear to God, I will take that baby from you the second it's born."

I felt a fierce, protective maternal instinct flare up inside my chest.

I took a step closer to him, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper.

"Listen to me very carefully, you pathetic little man," I said. "You have zero income, no permanent address, and an active federal investigation for corporate embezzlement."

Brendan swallowed hard.

"Furthermore," I continued, pulling out my phone and playing a voice recording.

It was Brendan's voice from a week ago: 'This baby is a parasite. I don't care what happens to it. Just sign the divorce papers so I can marry Jess.'