“Then he can see for himself what a rat he has for a father.” Emma stomped to her chair and plopped into it, glaring at Konstantin as he read the document he held.
Her fury did not abate as horror came over his features. It did not diminish as he looked up from the papers, his face waxen and pale, his expression on the verge of being ill.
She didn’t know what all that shock and horror was about.
“Didn’t you think I’d keep a copy? It will read well in any attempt you make to get custody of Mickey. I can prove the accusations of stalking made in there are false. I won’t be the one sporting the criminal record this time!”
“A restraining order is not a criminal record.” The words came out low and shocked.
Emma made a dismissive gesture with her hand. Semantics! “Tell that to the employers that ran routine background checks on me and it popped up. Do you know how impossible it made trying to provide for myself and later for Mickey?”
Konstantin went from pale to sickly green. “I did not do this. I did not take out that order of restraint. I never would have.”
“And yet, you did.”
“I did not. Look at the papers.”
“Oh, I know... The palace lawyers did it. Some guy named Albert Popov, but it was on your behalf. And it was issued on the weight of your testimony.” No further proof required.
But then he was a prince. And she was a nobody.
He’d claimed she’d stalked him, said she’d had delusions of a relationship that never existed, had told the court that she had threatened him that if she could not have him, no one could. Only his fabrications hadn’t been well researched. He’d had to put dates and times with the claims, and Emma had proof she was with other people, in class and one time even at a doctor’s appointment when she was supposed to have accosted him.
She had signed affidavits to that effect in her safety deposit too.
At one time, she’d considered forcing the issue, but she’d realized that doing so had to be a last resort. Because even with the proof the TRO had been gotten under false pretenses, she was still one person and he represented a monarchy.
She felt stronger now, more centered and capable of fighting than she had at age twenty.
“No. I never said any of those things,” he said now, sounding so darn sincere.
She wanted to smack him and that thought made her feel guilty. Patience, compassion and tolerance, she reminded herself.
Without a lot of effect.
“Rewriting history now, Your Highness?” she sneered.
Allowing her anger to come out felt cleansing, good. Like a weight that wasn’t hers to carry was being released. But she didn’t feel any better about the past for voicing her pain to the man who had never cared that he’d hurt her in the first place.
“My son is nearly five and I have met him for the first time today. And it is my fault. That is what you are saying.”
“Yes.” She had no give in her for this man anymore. He’d done too much to hurt her, but even more damning, by his own actions he had also done a lot to make her son’s life harder.
“You have grown very hard.”
“I just opened my eyes to who you are.”
“And it is not anyone good in your estimation.”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t be open to your having a relationship with my son if I did not think there was any good in you.” She just now knew how ruthless he could be. Knew that she could not trust him, even if Mickey might be able to.
She would never forget that truth again.
“He is my son too.”
“Not so you would notice.”
Konstantin winced. “What have you told him about me?”