They Are Mine
Remi’s POV
Jo zipped up my dress, stepping back with a grin. “You clean up well, boss.”
I turned to the mirror, adjusting the delicate strap of my black gown. Simple. Elegant. Understated.
And yet—
My stomach twisted.
I hadn’t wanted to come tonight.
But here I was.
At the same gala as him.
Jo caught my expression and rolled her eyes. “Remi, you survived a plane crash, outsmarted billionaires, and built a research facility from nothing. You can handle one ex-husband with memory issues.”
I sighed, grabbing my clutch. “That’s not the pep talk you think it is.”
She smirked. “Then how about this—let’s go stun some rich people and secure more funding.”
I exhaled sharply.
Right.
That’s why I was here.
Not Rowan.
Not the past.
Work.
I squared my shoulders. “Let’s go.”
\---
Stepping Into the Gala
The second I stepped inside, eyes turned.
Not just because of the dress.
Because of the headlines.
“Miracle Surgeon Survives Plane Crash.”
“Rowan Vaughn’s Mysterious Past with Dr. Remi Laurent.”
I had done my best to avoid the attention, but the whispers followed me anyway.
I ignored them, moving through the crowd.
Until my gaze landed on him.
Rowan Vaughn.
Standing by the bar, nursing a drink, watching me.
Our eyes met—
And I looked away first.
Kept walking.
Pretended I hadn’t seen him.
Because I had bigger problems.
Like—
Gigi.
She was across the room, surrounded by people, her smile sweet and sharp at the same time.
And then—
She saw me.
The smile didn’t falter.
If anything, it grew wider.
That was my first warning.
The second came when she excused herself from her group and headed straight toward me.
Jo muttered under her breath. “Oh, hell no.”
I straightened my back. “Jo, don’t.”
She huffed. “Fine. But if she throws a drink, I’m throwing hands.”
Before I could respond—
Gigi was there.
Standing in front of me.
Smiling like we were old friends.
“Dr. Laurent,” she purred. “I’m surprised you showed up. After everything, I assumed you’d be too embarrassed to attend.”
I kept my expression calm. “Why would I be embarrassed?”
She laughed, tilting her head. “Oh, sweetheart.”
That single word made my teeth clench.
She leaned in slightly, voice lower. “Do you really think people respect you here? You’re a charity case, Remi. A surgeon who got lucky. If it weren’t for Rowan—”
I smiled. “Funny. That’s exactly what people say about you.”
Her eyes darkened.
The people around us had started listening in.
Exactly what she wanted.
Gigi straightened, louder now. “I mean, it’s tragic, really. You spent years obsessing over Rowan, and even after all this time, he still doesn’t want you.”
The murmurs grew.
I ignored them.
Instead, I tilted my head. “Then why are you the one desperate to keep him?”
Her nails curled into her palm.
But before she could respond—
A deep voice cut through the tension.
“Enough.”
Silence.
The entire room shifted.
Because standing just a few feet away—
Was Rowan.
His expression was unreadable.
His presence? Lethal.
Gigi quickly recovered, turning to him with a carefully crafted look of hurt.
“Rowan, I was just—”
“I heard.” His voice was cold. “And I suggest you stop talking.”
Gigi’s eyes widened slightly. “But she—”
“She what?” His gaze snapped to her, sharp enough to cut. “She existed? She breathed in your presence?”
The air thickened.
Gigi swallowed.
Rowan stepped forward, his voice quieter now—but no less deadly.
“This obsession you have with humiliating Remi?” He tilted his head. “It’s pathetic.”
Gigi flinched.
But Rowan wasn’t done.
He turned to the surrounding guests, his voice steady.
“I’m sure you all have opinions,” he said, glancing at them. “Feel free to keep them to yourselves.”
No one dared to speak.
Then, without another word, Rowan turned back to me—
And grabbed my wrist.
“Come with me.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“We need to talk.”
I should have pulled away.
Should have argued.
Should have said something.
But—
I let him lead me out.
And for the first time that night—
I didn’t care who was watching.
—
The air between us was thick as Rowan led me through the back entrance of the venue.
I didn’t speak.
Not when we passed through the dimly lit hallway.
Not when we reached the private parking lot.
Not when he opened the car door for me, eyes dark and unreadable.
I should have refused to get in.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I slid into the seat, my heart hammering as he closed the door behind me.
A moment later, he was in the driver’s seat, the engine humming to life.
Rowan Vaughn was furious.
But it wasn’t the kind of explosive anger that came with shouting or slamming fists.
It was quiet.
Controlled.
And somehow, that was worse.
He pulled out of the lot, his grip on the steering wheel tight.
The tension sat between us, heavy and suffocating.
Finally, I exhaled sharply. “You didn’t have to do that.”
His gaze didn’t waver from the road. “Do what?”
“Defend me.”
His fingers curled slightly against the leather wheel. “She was out of line.”
I scoffed. “She’s always out of line.”
His jaw ticked. “And how often have you let her get away with it?”
I turned to him, frowning. “Excuse me?”
He glanced at me—just for a second—before focusing back on the road.
“You just stood there,” he said. “Letting her talk about you like that.”
I crossed my arms. “What was I supposed to do? Start a fight at a charity event?”
“If you don’t stand up for yourself, Remi, people like her will keep walking all over you.”
I clenched my jaw. “I don’t need a lesson on self-respect from you.”
His grip on the wheel tightened.
Silence.
The city lights blurred past us,
shadows flickering across his sharp features.
I could feel it coming.
Something heavy.
Something inevitable.
Rowan inhaled deeply, then exhaled—slow, controlled.
Then he said it.
“The kids are mine. Right?”
The air in my lungs vanished.
My heart stopped.
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