Page 32 of The Billionaire's Distraction

Melissa’s pen had captured it all—every date, every word, every tactic.

And for the first time, someone called it what it was: abuse.

Not weakness.Not hysteria.Abuse.

Melissa blinked against the sudden sting in her eyes.She kept walking, her scuffed shoes clicking against the uneven sidewalk.The notebook dug into her arm, reassuringly solid.

Her lawyer had more than just her notes now.

Three teachers—colleagues she hadn’t dared reach out to until recently—had written statements on her behalf, testifying to her competence and compassion in the classroom.They’d vouched for her in strong, clear words: Melissa wasn’t a danger to anyone.Quite the opposite—she had been one of the best, most effective teachers they’d ever worked with.

And those colleagues had gone even further.They’d reached out to former students, kids Melissa had refused to give up on.Kids who’d gone on to succeed—some even landing at Ivy League schools—because of her tutoring, her encouragement, her belief in them.

One statement had nearly undone her:She changed my life.Without Mrs.Peterson, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

The lawyer said the testimonies were powerful.They could open doors.

Maybe visitation with her boys.At the very least, maybe a hearing with the school superintendent to reconsider her banishment from teaching.

Melissa stopped at the corner, her heart pounding against her ribs.She allowed herself, just for a moment, to picture it: standing at the front of a classroom again.A whiteboard behind her.Students in front of her.Purpose instead of shame.

She swallowed hard.

Her lawyer had gone even further, laying out possibilities Melissa hadn’t dared imagine.If they could prove Tom’s lies had destroyed her reputation and career, they could sue him for defamation.With the right judge, the damages could be big.Punitive, even.Enough to rebuild her life.

Enough to finally fight him on equal footing.

Melissa hugged the notebook tighter, her steps quickening.The afternoon light caught the tears she hadn’t wiped away.

For the first time in years, she had hope.

And for the first time in years, Tom Peterson should be afraid.

Chapter 19

Naomifeltlikeshewas living a dream.

At night, she slept in Tony’s arms.During the day, she was in the trenches, figuring out how to undo months of Tom Peterson’s influence over Mark and Jacob.It wasn’t easy.It wasn’t fast.But slowly, carefully, she found the words, the consequences, the praise and rewards that worked.

The boys began to change.

They shifted from temperamental bullies to considerate, laughing, mischievous-but-teachable little boys who were becoming eager to learn.It certainly didn’t happen overnight.Every day, she tweaked her messages.Every day, she watched them wrestle with their impulses—and win more often than not.The playground became a safer place.Slowly, other moms and nannies stopped scooping up their kids the moment the Peterson boys arrived.

Jacob, who had once sulked in frustration at the smallest challenge, was now piecing letters into words.He struggled, yes, but for the first time, he wasn’t furious with himself for failing.He was excited about learning.Proud even.He was going to be ready for kindergarten, she realized with a thrill.He wasn’t ready for Shakespeare quite yet, but he recognized letters and short words.Every success was a major triumph.

Mark, too, was making strides, his motor skills strengthening as he joined in his brother’s lessons, no longer content to be left out.

There were still steps backward—mornings with their father left them edgy and mean-spirited—but Naomi had learned to anticipate it, to counter Tom’s poison with patience.

And then, after the long days, came her reward.

She’d walk down the block to Tony’s house, her heart already racing before she reached the front steps.As soon as she walked through the doorway, his arms would wrap around her, his mouth claiming hers.Often, he was already cooking—delectable scents of garlic, basil, or rosemary filling the house.Other times, the food would be warming in the oven, but forgotten for hours while he carried her straight to his bed and loved her until neither had the strength to move.

A long time later, they’d eat and share whatever wine he’d chosen for that meal.He’d listen intently while she told him about the boys, their progress, their setbacks.He rarely said much about his own day, but occasionally he’d share a funny story about one of his guards or a sweet one about Gianna.

One night, they’d had dinner with Sal and Catarina.Naomi had cradled the tiny girl in her arms, her heart aching with a joy she hadn’t expected.But the baby was swiftly plucked away—sometimes by Sal, often by Tony himself—two dangerous men suddenly reduced to bickering over who got to hold an infant.Catarina only rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips.She never argued with them.

The rhythm of their nights grew richer, sweeter.The sex was still explosive—even more so, now that she knew what he liked, what made him groan, what made his control slip—but it was also tender.He learned about her needs as well.He knew she melted when his fingers stroked through her hair.He knew when to light candles and pour her wine, when to draw her a hot bath and leave her alone to soak, and when to climb in beside her without a word.Somehow, he always knew what she needed.