Rough hands separated Jaxon and Addison, destroying their intimate moment with brutal efficiency. Jaxon’s protective fury blazed as he shielded her from unnecessary contact.

“Watch how you handle her,” he demanded with executive authority. “She’s carrying my child.”

Brick’s expression softened slightly. “We know. Boss made that clear.”

They were escorted through marble corridors back to the cathedral lobby, where the atmosphere had transformed completely. Only essential bank personnel remained—Marcus at his security station, Sarah near information desks, and a handful of other employees clustered nervously together.

“Mr. Wellington,” Marcus called immediately, his bloodied uniform testament to earlier violence. “I need to speak with you privately. It’s urgent.”

Jaxon glanced at Addison, executive instincts warring with protective devotion.

“Go,” she said softly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Stay where I can see you,” Jaxon replied with steel conviction, following Marcus toward the security station.

Addison watched them retreat, then scanned the lobby with calculated precision. Wyatt stood near the vault entrance, his masked attention burning into her across marble space. Their eyes met, and electricity crackled between them like exposed wire threatening to ignite.

She tilted her head toward the empty loan officer’s office—a subtle signal that carried the weight of shared history. Wyatt shifted position slightly, acknowledging her gesture with military precision.

Addison walked toward the office with measured steps, pulse hammering against ribs as memories threatened to overwhelm her defenses. The small space smelled of leather and corporate authority—a sanctuary that would become a battlefield.

Wyatt entered moments later, closing the door behind him. In the confined space, his presence filled every corner.

“Cassidy,” he said softly, removing his mask with careful precision.

Familiar features emerged—older, marked by years of separation, but unmistakably the man who had once been her entire world.

“You’re really here,” she whispered, her fingers reaching toward his face. “All this time, I thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, catching her hand and pressing it to his cheek. “I’m so sorry you had to believe that. But I never stopped loving you. Every day for five years, you were the only thing that kept me breathing.”

“Why didn’t you come back to me?”

“I wanted to protect you from this life,” he replied, stepping closer. “But I was wrong to leave you. I should have fought for us.”

“Wyatt, I’m pregnant. Everything’s different now.”

“I know,” he said gently, his hand moving to rest on her stomach. “And I want you to know that this child will be ours. I’ll love it, raise it, be the father it deserves.”

His touch was reverent, protective. “We can be a family, the three of us. Start over somewhere safe.”

“It’s complicated—”

“Love isn’t complicated,” he murmured, his thumb tracing her cheek. “Come with me when this is finished. We’ll find a place where no one can hurt us.”

“Jaxon won’t let me go that easily.”

Both men wanted her completely. Both would accept her child, love them, become devoted fathers. Both offered futures filled with devotion and commitment. The choice should have been simple, but her heart refused to cooperate with logic.

How could she face either of them knowing she desired them both? How could she look Jaxon in the eyes while Wyatt’s taste lingered on her lips? How could she meet Wyatt’s burning stare while carrying Jaxon’s ring and his child?

Detective Hawkins’ voice suddenly exploded through the building’s communication system, shattering her internal torment with external crisis.

“This is Detective Ray Hawkins, NYPD Crisis Negotiation Team!” His official authority boomed across marble walls with electronic amplification. “We are terminating all previous negotiations effective immediately!”

The announcement struck like lightning, freezing her blood as tactical reality crashed over personal warfare.

“Ghost, you and your team have exactly six hours until midnight to surrender unconditionally and release all remaining hostages!” Hawkins continued with military precision that made the air vibrate with menace.

“If you have not complied by 12:01 AM, NYPD tactical units will storm the building with lethal force authorized!”

Terror replaced shame as implications struck with devastating force. Six hours to resolve impossible choices between love and survival, passion and security, past and future.

“Snipers are in position! Special forces teams are ready to breach! You have six hours to make the right choice!”

The ultimatum detonated through the corporate sanctuary like a bomb exploding. Six hours to decide not just between two men, but between three lives hanging in the balance of her impossible heart.

Addison pressed her palms against her stomach, protecting the innocent life caught in the crossfire of adult complications. Whatever happened next, whatever choice she made, her baby would survive.

Everything else remained terrifyingly uncertain as midnight approached like executioner’s blade, promising that their nightmare would end one way or another when the clock struck twelve.