She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife (Natasha and Chase) novel Chapter 28

Chapter 28 The Cruel Ultimatum

(Natasha)

It’s three weeks before Christmas, and I’ve finally been discharged from the hospital.

My foster parents are refusing to return to Pennsylvania.

Their excuse is that their youngest son, Liam, is studying at UCLA, so they may as well stay for the holidays.

I know they’re staying to support me.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” my mom urges, guiding me to the living room sofa.

“You shouldn’t be moving around too much.”

It’s been weeks since the surgery and the wound on my abdomen has healed.

The one on my heart is still festering though.

“I need to use the restroom first,” I tell her gently.

Walking into the downstairs bathroom, I flip on the switch and look at my reflection for the first time in nearly a month.

The woman staring back at me is a stranger.

Or rather, she’s a version of me I’ve long since forgotten.

The terrible swelling in my face and body is gone. My cheekbones are sharp, and my eyes look huge in my pale face. My clothes hang loosely on my frame.

The physical transformation from the drug upgrade and the long coma is startling, but it brings me no joy.

Looking in the mirror only reminds me that my arms are empty.

The sound of the doorbell pulls me to the hallway.

My mother opens the door, and the temperature in the house seems to drop when Chase steps into the hallway.

He looks at me, and for a split second, his eyes widen.

He recovers quickly, his expression hardening into an unreadable mask.

“We need to talk,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

My father steps forward protectively, his face red with anger.

“You have no right to be here after what you did.”

I step forward. “It’s fine, Dad. Please give us a minute.”

Chase and I walk into the living room.

“I brought the visitation schedule,” Chase announces.

He pulls a folded document from his coat pocket and places it on the coffee table.

“I want my daughter back,” I tell him, refusing to look at the document.

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“You lost the bet, Natasha. I hold all the cards regarding custody now,” Chase informs me smoothly.

steps closer, Towering over me.

“Here are my terms. If you insist on living in this townhouse alone, you can visit the baby twice a week. The visits will be supervised.”

A sharp gasp escapes my throat.

“Twice a week? You can’t do that. I’m her mother. You have to think about what’s best for her,” I beg.

“I am,” he replies coldly.

“My daughter will not be shuttled back and forth across Los Angeles. She needs stability.”

“She needs me!” I yell, tears springing to my eyes.

“How can you be this cruel? I’m her mother, Chase. I have to be with her.”

“Then act like a mother,” Chase challenges, his gaze locking intensely onto mine.

“Move back into the house. If you live under my roof, you get full, unrestricted access to our child. The choice is yours. I’ll give you time to think about it.”

He turns and walks out the front door without another word, leaving me suffocating in the silence.

Moving back into the Warren estate means living with Eleanor’s cruelty.

It means watching Sonia parade around with her fake smiles.

It means surrendering my freedom to a man who abandoned me long before I was bleeding on an operating table.

But refusing means I only see my baby girl twice a week.

It means missing her first laugh, her first steps, and every quiet moment in between.

The back door opens, and Mason walks into the living room.

He takes one look at my tear-stained face and the legal document sitting on the coffee table.

“What did he do?” Mason asks, his voice tight with immediate anger.

“He gave me an ultimatum,” I sob, sinking onto the sofa.

“I have to move back into his house, or I only see my baby twice a week.”

“That fucking bastard.”

Mason drops to his knees in front of me and takes my shaking hands in his.

“Don’t do it, Natasha,” Mason pleads. His dark eyes are fierce and desperate.

“Don’t let him force you to go back to him. It’s exactly what he wants. He’s using your child as bait.”

“I don’t have a choice,” I cry, my heart breaking into a million pieces.

“I can’t survive without her. The pain is eating me alive.”

“We’ll fight him in court,” Mason insists, squeezing my fingers tightly.

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“I have my legal team drafting an emergency injunction right now. We’ll drag him in front of a judge and expose

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