Adopted by the Billionaire✔️

[33]

Antonio's POV
The plane had barely come to a stop before chaos erupted.
Flashes.
Shouting.
Names thrown like weapons.
"Mr. Smith! Is it true you assaulted a woman?"
"Chairman—was she an ex‑lover?"
"Are you hiding something?"
My jaw tightened.
"Who exactly was assaulted?" I asked flatly, though my security team was already moving—forcing space between me and the swarm.
This was the hit in London.
Not an attack.
Not a threat to my assets.
A scandal.
A woman claiming I had violated her.
I felt a headache bloom behind my eyes. I had expected something substantial—corporate sabotage, a hostile takeover attempt—not this.
I hadn't touched another woman since Ellie came into my life.
I didn't answer the reporters. Silence was always more effective than denial.
Inside the DoubleTree, the noise finally died.
"Where is she?" I asked.
I was led into a private suite.
Natasha sat on the couch, wine glass in hand, legs crossed as if she owned the room.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked coldly.
She laughed. "You stopped answering my calls."
"I didn't ignore you," I said evenly. "I ended whatever this was."
"You're a famous playboy," she scoffed. "Men like you don't end things."
"That man no longer exists," I replied.
She tilted her head. "I heard you have a daughter now."
The word daughter landed like a blade.
"Yes," I said. "And you will not speak about her."
Natasha smiled. "That makes it exciting."
For a split second—just a fraction—I understood how men like my father justified their choices.
Power.
Silence.
Erasure.
The thought passed.
I straightened my jacket.
"You will leave this hotel within the hour," I said. "My legal team will contact you. If you continue this lie, your name will be attached to a public defamation suit that will follow you for the rest of your life."
She scoffed—until I placed a folder on the table.
Phone records.
Bank transfers.
Text messages.
Her smile vanished.
"You wanted attention," I said quietly. "What you've earned is exposure."
I stood.
"Security will escort you."
As I walked out, my hands were steady—but my chest wasn't.
I hated that my mind had gone somewhere darker for even a moment.
I pulled out my phone.
"Edmen," I said.
"Mr. Smith."
"How is Ellie?"
In the background, I heard laughter.
"She's doing well."
"Put her on."
The phone barely made it back to my ear.
"DADDY! I miss you! When are you coming home?"
The tension drained out of me all at once.
"Soon, baby. I promise."
"I made a mess with marshmallows!"
I chuckled. "I pity Edmen."
"I love you!"
"I love you more."
The call ended.
I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes.
How does a man like me deserve someone like her?
Maybe that's the punishment.
Not damnation.
Responsibility.

edit: 4.20.21
Revision: 3.10.26