Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 178 -

Весса.

James had to take a call as soon as we got back to the house. He said he would be a while, so I decided to take the kids to the park.

Layla came with me, pushing the double-stroller with Dahlia in it while I carried Alessandro. I was honestly afraid to put him down, afraid he might be snatched away.

I saw Antoinette sitting on the bench again, watching her little girl. I walked over, Layla and the stroller in my wake.

Antoinette stood suddenly and looked around. She put her hands on my shoulders. "Becca, you can't be here. They've gone all Stepford Wives-"

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Rebecca Woods," a new voice sneered.

I turned around, noting that Layla had been pushed aside with the stroller and that I was now staring at five blonde, perfectly manicured women who looked as though they had just come from a tennis club. "Yes?" I said, while Antoinette fell silent.

"I hear they're planning to take that little one away from you," the ringleader at the front said, opening her perfectly pink botoxed lips again. "That you're an unfit mother."

"I can't believe you took little Alexander from the Cartwrights in the first place. Especially after what happened to their poor son," another sniffed.

"Who's Alexander?" I asked.

Five fingers pointed at Alessandro, who was blinking his dark, uncomprehending eyes at all of them.

"His name," I said testily, "is Alessandro."

"Ew, that is SO ethnic," a third woman grimaced, holding her nose.

"You don't want people thinking he's some...." The ringleader used a racial slur.

I covered Alessandro's ears. "How DARE you use that kind of language in front of a child!"

"F*ck!" Alessandro protested.

The women's eyes all got huge. "Oh, my God, what HAVE you been saying around that poor little darling?"

"I'm texting Cecilia," the second woman said, whipping out her phone. "I have to let her know the filthy things you've been teaching her grandchild." "You can't be serious," I gaped at them.

Five piercing sets of blue eyes scowled at me. "Of course we're serious."

"Marilyn, I seem to remember your child's first words being 'get off me, Stan," Antoinette said, inserting herself into the conversation.

The one called Marilyn, who I recognized as the second of my attackers, turned beat red.

Obviously not afraid of eating their own, the other four women tittered at Marilyn's expense.

"No offense, Marilyn, but if I were married to that pig, I'd be saying that all the time, too," the ringleader chuckled.

"Terese, has the paternity test come back on little Kenneth yet?" Antoinette asked the ringleader sweetly. "He does look an awful lot like the gardener."

Terese turned beet red. "You watch your mouth, Antoinette Simmons. I seem to remember your house being raided by the FCC three times now. Or is it four?"

"And yet they still haven't found anything," Antoinette smirked. "It is a bit of a pain getting things back in order, but that three-million-dollar harassment suit we won against them does keep us warm at night."

Terese pursed her lips so tightly I thought botox might suddenly pop out. "So, you're siding with some moll over us, Antoinette? I thought you had more taste."

"I'm not a moll. Molls are for mobsters," I cut in.

"What do they call it in the mafia then, 'prostituta'?" Marilyn asked.

The five women all snickered.

"I am not a prostitute," I ground out.

"You're not married to him. Are you sure you're not his side piece?" Terese jeered.

I knew I should just walk away. Stop answering them. But the anger building in me over the past weeks over the trial and Alessandro and everything was about to boil over, and these women seemed like perfect targets. "I'm sure I'm not his side piece. I do remember you trying to be at the barbecue. Too bad he doesn't like t*ts that can double as floatation devices."

Terese huffed, her fake boobs barely jiggling. "Watch out, girly. It happens to all of us one day."

"What, plastic surgery or being a pain in the ass?" I asked sweetly.

Antoinette burst out laughing.

The four women around Terese tittered a little, but one look from their leader shut them up fast.

"I hope you're taking notes," Terese sneered. "We don't want you here. You or your bastard children-"

My hand flew out of its own accord. I slapped the foul-mouthed, plastic Barbie across the face.

"Becca!" Layla gasped.

"Shit," Antoinette said.

"Shit!" Alessandro proudly showed off a new word. "Shit!"

Terese gave me a look of triumphant contempt. "I knew you were trash. And that was assault."

"I'll tell your husband about the gardener if you do anything stupid, Terese," Antoinette warned her.

Terese snorted. "As if I would need to report her. There's a mountain of evidence about what a violent bitch she is." "Bitch!" Alessandro echoed.

"That's right, sweetie. Your mummy is a bitch," Terese cooed at Alessandro.

"F*ck off, Terese. Then when you get there, f*ck off some more," Antoinette fumed.

Terese smiled and looked at her cronies. "Ladies, our work here is done. I'm sure Becca knows she's unwelcome. Let's go."

Swaying their hips and fake asses, the quintuplets went to collect their nannies, who collected their children, and left the park.

I stood, breathing hard, so angry I could hardly see straight. "Th-thank you, Antoinette," I finally said, once I could force any words out of my mouth.

"Those women are a blemish on the neighborhood. Don't listen to them," Antoinette assured me.

I raked a hand over my face. "I think... I think Layla and I should go home now."

Antoinette gave me a sympathetic look and nodded. "I understand. But hey, see you for coffee tomorrow morning?"

"Maybe another time," I replied woodenly.

"Okay." Antoinette patted my shoulder. "Don't be a stranger."

I nodded at Layla, and we quickly took the kids back home. Layla took Alessandro from me and brought the kids back to the nursery.

I went to the bedroom I now shared with James. He'd moved his stuff in. We weren't pretending anymore.

Choking back a sob, I laid down on the bed and curled around a pillow.

I didn't know I wasn't alone.

"Baby?" James asked, poking his head out of the closet. "Becca, what's wrong?"

I wiped my eyes and sat up. "I thought you were on a call."

"I got off early. I was going to go meet you guys down at the park-Becca, did something happen?" James came and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"We happened," I responded softly, swiping more at the tears that escaped my eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" James scooted back so he was sitting right next to me and took my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

I shook my head. "I honestly thought, you know, we could live something of a normal life... somewhere. New Zealand. Scarsdale. Wherever. Even if it was just temporary, we could just be a normal family." "What happened?" James demanded rather than asked this time.

I sighed. "The neighborhood Stepford Wives confronted me at the park. They made it clear they thought we didn't belong, and that we were horrible people they didn't want to associate with." James's lips thinned. "Did they now?"

"They did. I don't suppose anything came back on their background checks that puts us on equal footing?" I looked up at James.

"Which families?" James asked.

I rattled off the names.

James shook his head. "If you're talking about a criminal element, then no, there is nothing that puts us on an equal footing. On paper, they are all squeaky clean."

"On paper," I repeated bitterly. "I'll bet every one of their husbands is embezzling or running Ponzi schemes to defraud poor people."

"Or their wives are just massive c*nts," James suggested.

"Well, that goes without saying." I winced. "Also, Alessandro now has two new favorite words."

James looked hesitant. "Do I want to know what they are?"

"Bitch and shit," I muttered.

"Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me," James groaned.

"Afraid not. He learned bitch from Terese, and heard shit from Antoinette," I said. "If the judge asks Alessandro to get up and try to speak on his own behalf, we're going to be so screwed."

"The judge isn't going to ask that. He's not even two yet," James scoffed.

I stared up at the ceiling, feeling my eyes still stinging with tears. "I slapped Terese."

"Not... good... though, I'm sure she deserved it..." James said tightly.

"She called our children bastards." I bit my lip, trying not to cry. "I think Antoinette defused the situation. She said she'd tell Terese's husband about her affair with the gardener if Terese reported me for hitting her. Terese didn't seem all that concerned, though."

"Why wouldn't she be concerned?" James asked.

"Oh, because she knows there's a mountain of evidence against us. And, as it turns out, the Cartwrights are planning to change Alessandro's name to Alexander. Apparently, Alessandro is too 'ethnic.""

"Ethnic, hmm?" James said, and I could hear his teeth grinding.

"Something has to happen, James. There needs to be some miracle," I whispered. "I can't lose him. Especially not to those people."

"I know," James replied. "I know, baby." He moved to curl around me, spooning me from behind, taking both my hands and wrapping our joined hands over my stomach. "I'm going to do everything. Everything I can. I will rain fire down on these people, Becca."

My heart felt broken, and my spirit defeated. "How? How can you rain fire on them? They'll be expecting it. They'll only take Dahlia as well."

"They might try to take Dahlia anyway," James said softly. "If we're declared unfit parents..."

I curled tighter still, shuddering with fear. "Please don't say that out loud."

"I don't want to lie to you," James responded, kissing the back of my neck. He leaned his forehead against me and sighed. "I want us to be prepared. If Alessandro gets... gets taken, we need to get back to Italy as soon as possible. The very next second. We can't let any time pass between Alessandro being taken and something official about us being unfit parents altogether coming down the pipe. I will work endlessly to get him back, I promise."

"We really are going to lose, aren't we?" I managed to form the words after several attempts.

James held me tighter. "We probably are," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean we're not going to fight until the very end."

I nodded. "Okay, then I want you to do it."

"Do...?" James asked.

"You rain fire down on those bastards. Forever, and ever, and ever," I said.