His face hardened. “What do you mean by ‘bastard’? It’s our child. When did you get so cruel and petty? I’m disappointed in you.”
When I stayed silent, he sighed theatrically. “Amara, please. Let her go. I’ll only let Alyssa see the baby five times a week. Isn’t that punishment enough?”
I was so furious I laughed. Then I slapped him hard across the face, each word squeezed out between my teeth. “Let her go? Don’t make me laugh.”
I pointed to the man who’d just bade the highest and stated, “Mr. Bishop, Alyssa’s yours. Enjoy.”
Mr. Bishop hesitated for a heartbeat, so I reminded him, cool as ice, “Whether you want her or not, I'm not going to refund your money.”
That pushed him over the edge. He quickly grabbed her and dragged her offstage toward the lounge.
Grayson started forward, but I stepped behind him and warned, “If you go in there today, Grayson, we’re finished.”
He froze, body stiff, eyes nearly bleeding. Then a woman’s scream rang out from the lounge.
“Grayson! Help me… ah—”
Amara's POV
At that moment, Grayson completely lost control and burst into the lounge like a madman.