The words slammed into me. My breath caught.
"Dad, no!" Tony's voice cut through, sharper than I'd ever heard. He pushed himself off the couch, disbelief etched across his face.
My eyes darted to him. His expression— pure disgust.
"Yes," Vincent replied, folding his arms. "If what she claims is true, we can't leave her out there as a laughing stock while she potentially could be carrying a Blackwood in her belly."
"She's lying," Tony snapped, irritation dripping from his voice. "I told you, we used protection the one time we slept."
"I don't care," Vincent replied smoothly. "It's up to the DNA test now."
Tony groaned, his voice rising. "Ughh… oh my fucking God." He collapsed back into the couch, resignation etched into his posture.
I sat frozen, my heart pounding, my body trembling. My gaze flickered between them.
"Are you okay moving in with my son?" Vincent asked, his eyes drilling into me.
"Ye-s," I stammered, the word breaking apart in my throat.
"Good. Don't feel rushed. Whenever you're ready, send an email to the address that summoned you here. I'll have people move your things to his apartment. That's all. You can go."
"Yes, sir," I muttered, but standing up at that moment felt like a struggle. I wanted to move, but my body refused to obey.
"You've got what you wanted, huh?" Tony's voice was sharp, venomous. "Are you happy now?"
My lips parted, but no response came.
"Meeting's over. Get the fuck out." He rose, gesturing toward the door, his face twisted with disgust.
My gaze flicked back to Vincent. His eyes shifted from me to the door— a silent command.
My legs finally obeyed. I stood, the weight of their gazes choking me as I exited the room. The door closed softly behind me.
---
The Following Day — Tony's POV.
The Glass Penthouse.
Tony's phone buzzed against the sleek wooden nightstand, the vibration sharp in the stillness of the penthouse. His arm dragged lazily across the sheets, fingers fumbling until they found the device. A grunt escaped his lips as he silenced it.
"Ughhh…" he groaned, rolling onto his back. "Stupid alarm."
The curtains surrendered slowly to the morning light, streaks of gold slicing across polished floors. He squinted, pushed himself upright, and snatched the phone again.
"7:32," he said flatly, tossing it back onto the bed before dragging himself toward the bathroom.
Steam clung to the glass cabinet minutes later as he stepped out, towel knotted at his waist. He paused before the mirror, droplets sliding down his chest, his fingers raking through damp hair. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing at his own reflection.
His voice low, almost a whisper, he spoke to himself. "If that lying bitch makes the mistake of moving in here, I'll make her life a living hell. That's a promise." His breath came heavy, his eyes locked on his reflection. "I don't care what Dad says. I don't care if the world's watching. She won't last here. Not with me."
He inhaled sharply, chest rising, then turned from the mirror, shoulders stiff. "She thinks she can trap me? I'll let her know who she's dealing with."
Back in the bedroom, fabric whispered as he dressed, each movement deliberate, precise. The Rolex clasped around his wrist gleamed when he checked the time.
"8:05," he muttered, striding through the corridor, footsteps echoing against glass and steel.
The garage lights flickered on, bathing the sleek black McLaren W1 and the navy blue Escalade‑V in a cold glow. He stood between them, gaze shifting, weighing style against mood. His lips pressed into a thin line before he turned toward the Escalade.
The door shut with a muted thud, leather swallowing him whole. Fingers curled around the wheel, the V8 roared alive, vibrating through the penthouse walls. He eased out of the driveway, the woods receding in the rearview, as he headed for the main campus.
---
Hours later, the lecture classroom buzzed faintly with the aftermath of the day's lectures. Tony leaned back, phone in hand, Marcus beside him, fingers stroking his beard.
"So she's moving in with you. That's crazy," Marcus said, eyes fixed on Tony as he turned slightly toward him, giving him his full attention.
"That's what Dad said," Tony replied, scrolling through his phone.
"You're not gonna accept that, are you?" Marcus tapped his fist lightly against Tony's arm, forcing his gaze up.
"I won't." Tony sighed, slipping the phone into his pocket. His eyes hardened. "And if she's foolish enough to move her things in, I'll make sure she doesn't stay."
Marcus nodded, lips curling. "Bet. I trust you. Bitches be so stupid these days. It's our duty to put them in their place."
Tony's gaze drifted past Marcus, locking onto the front row. A girl with wine‑colored hair sat there, her laughter soft, almost musical, spilling out the moment their eyes met.
"Do you know who she is?" Tony asked, his stare unbroken as he nodded toward her.
"Who?" Marcus followed his nod.
"She's been looking at me all day."
The girl noticed the gesture, her eyes darting away quickly.
"That's Lily Johnson. You don't know her?" Marcus raised a brow.
"I don't. Should I?" Tony's voice was calm, but his gaze stayed fixed on her.
"Her dad's a famous Hollywood director," Marcus explained.
"Is he?" Tony folded his arms, still watching Lily.
"I'm honestly surprised you don't know her. She's been our classmate since year one. She's big on YouTube too."
Tony's eyebrow arched, gaze finally shifting back to Marcus. "You almost sound like you're hyping her up."
"I'm not," Marcus smiled softly. "She's cool. Go talk to her."
"Nah. I'm good." Tony rolled his eyes, dismissing the thought.
---
Later, his Rolex read 6:32 p.m.
"I should get going," Tony said, rising to his feet.
"Alright." Marcus nodded, their hands clasping in a dap before parting. "I'm staying. Got things to do. See you tomorrow."
"Alright." Tony picked up his notebook from the tablet arm of his seat, turned, and walked toward the exit.
As he passed the front row, Lily rose, packing her things. In the hallway, he noticed her trailing behind, her steps light, almost hesitant. He stopped and turned slowly.
She froze, their eyes locking. Her pen slipped from her fingers, tapping softly against the floor. Her breath caught.
"What do you want?" Tony's voice was low and steady as his steps closed the gap between them. "I noticed you've been staring at me all week. You've got my attention now."
"I—I'm sorry," Lily stammered, fingers fidgeting. "I just find you so attractive. I had to say something."
"I see." His gaze swept over her, from face to feet, then back again. His lips curved faintly. "I find you attractive too. And I like your boldness. I'll fuck with you."
Her eyes widened, breath shallow.
"Do you want my number?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered quickly, almost before he finished.
His smile widened slightly as he extended his hand. She placed her phone in it, her fingers trembling. He typed his digits, handed it back.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He nodded once, turned, and walked away, his steps echoing down the corridor, leaving her standing there, clutching her phone like it was something precious.