Roman noticed the gesture and his expression sharpened, not with concern but calculation.
“I know this is uncomfortable,” he said. “But we can be civilized.”
“Civilized would have been having this conversation without an audience.”
“You’ve ignored my attempts to talk.”
“You sent your attorney an email asking whether you could file before the birth without looking heartless.”
His eyes hardened.
Sienna looked at Roman. “You said she didn’t know.”
Lila almost laughed again.
Roman turned his head slightly. “Sienna.”
“No,” Lila said. “Let her speak. I’m curious what version of my marriage she purchased.”
Sienna’s mouth tightened. “Roman told me you two have been over for years.”
“Did he?”
“He said you sleep in separate rooms.”
“Only after he stopped coming home.”
“He said you refused to be a real partner to him.”
“I managed three of his foundation campaigns, hosted investors he couldn’t impress, learned which board members hated each other, and smiled through dinners where he treated waiters better than me. But please, tell me more about partnership.”
Sienna looked away first.
Roman’s voice dropped. “Do not embarrass yourself.”
Lila turned back to him.
There was a time when those words would have worked. A year ago, maybe even six months ago, she would have swallowed the humiliation, gone upstairs, cried in the bathroom with the water running, and convinced herself that patience was strength.
Pregnancy had changed that.
Not because it made her fragile.
Because it made her honest.
“Where would you like me to sleep?” she asked.
Roman paused, surprised by the softness of her tone. “The east guest room is prepared.”
“The room beside the service elevator.”
“It has a bed.”
“It has no bathroom attached.”
“You can use the hall bath.”
“I’m eight months pregnant, Roman.”
“You’re not ill.”
“No,” she said quietly. “I’m your wife.”
He looked annoyed, as though she had brought up an irrelevant detail.
“I will make sure you’re taken care of,” he said. “But I need order in this house.”
“In this house,” Lila repeated.
His eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“You mean your house.”
He gave a short laugh. “Don’t start that.”
Sienna looked between them.
Lila tilted her head. “Start what?”
“The sentimental history speech. Your grandmother’s parties, your mother’s music room, the old Vance name. I know what this place means to you.” Roman gestured around the foyer with careless ownership. “But I pay for it now.”
Every servant in the foyer heard him.
Every one of them also knew he was wrong.
Lila felt the old anger rise, bright and clean.
Roman had paid for renovations. Roman had paid for parties. Roman had paid architects to modernize a kitchen he never entered and decorators to remove wallpaper her mother had loved. But money spent inside a house was not the same as ownership.
Roman had never learned the difference between possession and belonging.
Lila smiled then.
It was small.
It was enough to make Roman stop.
“What?” he demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think I will.”
The restraint irritated him more than shouting would have.
Sienna took a step closer to him, perhaps expecting his hand at her back, some sign that she was the chosen woman now. Roman did not touch her. He was too busy watching Lila, suddenly aware that something in the room had shifted and he did not know how.
“You’ll stay in the east room tonight,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll discuss terms.”
“I won’t stay in the east room.”
Roman’s face turned cold. “Then leave.”
The word landed softly.
Not because it was gentle.
Because everyone had known it was coming.
Lila looked at him.
For a moment, she saw the man he had been at twenty-nine, standing beneath the elm trees at her mother’s memorial garden, promising he loved her for her mind, not her name. She saw the young entrepreneur with hungry eyes and an empty bank account, the man who had admired her intelligence before he learned how useful her connections could be. She saw herself, grieving and flattered, mistaking ambition for courage.
Then she blinked.
And he was only Roman again.
“Leave,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“With the baby due in five weeks.”
“I’ll arrange a hotel.”
“How generous.”
“Don’t make me the villain.”
Lila stepped off the last stair.
“You moved another woman into my home while I’m carrying your child,” she said. “You did that without warning, without shame, and with my nursery being cleared for her clothes. I don’t have to make you anything. You arrived there alone.”
Sienna whispered, “Roman…”
He ignored her.
“Pack what you need,” he said. “My driver will take you wherever you want.”
Lila held his gaze.
“Anywhere?”
Roman’s mouth curved, faintly cruel. “Within reason.”
There it was.
The boundary he thought he controlled.
Her money. Her movement. Her comfort. Her shelter. Her reputation. Her child.