Page 40 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

“He chose you.”

The words land like a strike, but not because they’re unexpected. Because I hear something beneath them, something bitter and raw.

“I wasn’t his blood, and I was still what he wanted,” I say, not as an argument but as a fact.

Fantasia lets out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “And that’s the part I could never understand. I did everything right. I was born into this. It should’ve been mine.” She swipes a hand through her hair, exhaling hard. “But instead, he handed everything to you, like it was nothing.”

I let her words settle.

I’ve thought about this before- how unfair it must’ve felt for her, how infuriating it had to be to watch someone else step into the role she was raised to take. But hearing her say it, hearing the quiet devastation behind the words, is different.

“I knew that you wanted to inherit, but deep down, I always thought I could marry you one day, and when you were old enough, none of it would matter. I thought everything that was mine would one day be yours anyway.”

Fantasia exhales, slow and measured. She shifts, pressing her palm flat against her thigh, fingers splayed, as if grounding herself. For a moment, her lips part- like she might say something else. But then she closes them, swallows once, and when she speaks, her voice is razor-sharp.

“I wanted you to die.” She doesn’t flinch as she says it, doesn’t soften the words or offer any hesitation. Just states it like a fact, like a conclusion she came to long ago. “To conveniently stop being a problem.”

“You think I wanted any of this?” My voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it. “You think I ever asked for it?”

Fantasia’s lips press into a thin line. “That’s the worst part, isn’t it? You never had to ask. You just had to be.”

“And look how well that worked out,” she continues, gesturing around the cabin. “Here you are, hiding in the mountains with me instead of where you actually belong.”

The accusation sinks deep, and I don’t have a rebuttal.

Because she’s right.

I never wanted an empire. Never cared about the weight of the name I was given. But Fantasia? It was all she ever knew. All she ever fought for. And when it was taken from her, she didn’t know how to handle it.

So she tried to take me out instead.

I should be furious. I should throw it back in her face.

But before I can respond, before I can say something that might shatter the fragile ground we’re standing on, a noise cuts through the quiet.

A scuffle.

Then a thud.

Something- someone- slamming against the side of the cabin.

My body goes rigid.

Fantasia freezes, her eyes meeting mine in instant understanding. The peaceful bubble we've been living in has just burst.

“Piers?” Fantasia's voice is barely a whisper, but I hear the steel beneath it. Three weeks of healing haven't erased years of survival instinct.

I move silently to the window, keeping to the shadows. Through the trees, I catch glimpses of movement- dark figures slipping between the trunks. Professional. Coordinated.

We’re not alone.

I turn to her, and in that moment, I see both versions of her- the woman who tried to have me killed, and the one who's been healing beside me. Neither of them is the type to go down without a fight.

Chapter 19

Fantasia

We hear nothing else outside the house that night, which is far worse than the initial scare in my opinion. Aside from dozing for a few hours just before the sun rises, I get no sleep. And Piers doesn’t close his eyes at all.

---