“I wasn’t aware you’re currently married,” she shoots back, arching a challenging eyebrow.

In that moment, she tells herself that – no. She should not engage, because it’s not going to go well.

“Hannah. My wife. You think I didn’t know you wanted her, all those years? You think I couldn’t see the way you looked at her? I don’t know what you think you’re doing to her, but just because she’s going through this fucking phase and losing her goddamn mind –”

Her resolve to not engage falls away as soon as Michael is spewing crap about Hannah.

She holds up her hand, fury on Hannah’s behalf. And, frankly, insult on her own. For Michael labeling this thing she has with Hannah as some sort of “phase” or Hannah losing her mind or – “I don’t know who the hell you think you’re talking about here, but Hannah is your nothing. She’s her own person. Maybe it’s about time you get that through your thick skull. And my feelings for Hannah are irrelevant. Her personal life is irrelevant to you.”

The vein in his forehead starts popping, his shoulders shaking in his barely concealed anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t know? You think I don’t have friends at McGregor and Associates, who saw you two together at that party?”

“I think it’s none of your business,” she takes care to keep her voice low, even as she seethes. When he steps closer to her, she angles her head up at him. “Don’t even think you can physically intimidate me, Michael. I’m certainly not your anything and don’t think I don’t know that’s how you get what you want from women.”

“If I knew she’d be having you around Abbie, I would have fought for custody harder. Maybe we’ll have to revisit that agreement,” he threatens, and she hates that he feels he has some sort of upper hand.

“Then maybe you’ll be excited to lose millions.” Now she leans in, dropping her voice to a whisper, “And maybe we’d have your court case against Ava McNeil brought up. She was extremely helpful the first go-round. Or maybe we could bring in Sandy Edgars. You think she might have something interesting to say?”

She taps her chin with her index finger in faux-thought, even as she watches him carefully. Ava, a woman who’d filed assault charges with bodily evidence, the same year Abbie had been born. Charges were dropped after she’d been wired a large sum from his parent’s bank account, but it certainly wouldn’t look good for him. Neither would Sandy – a six month long affair, who had actually met Abbie. Not that Abbie was aware of what she’d walked in on, but Sandy had quite the memory.

“Just fucking try it, Michael. If you threaten Hannah ever again, if you badmouth her to Abbie – sexuality or relationship status, included – if you even attempt to breathe a word to contest custody… you don’t even want to know what I will do to you.” She goes toe-to-toe with him, her voice low and sharp, as her eyes narrow to a glare. “Try me. Because we both know who’ll win.”