Page 52 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

Desmond sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Because I don’t know you yet.” His eyes meet mine, assessing. “And I figured waking up restrained was better than waking up surrounded by men you'd probably try to fight the second you opened your eyes. You’ve been trouble every time.”

I grind my teeth but don’t argue. He’s not wrong.

Desmond takes a step closer, nodding at one of the men standing nearby. The guy hesitates, then moves to untie the rope at my wrists.

“I'll let you go,” Desmond says, watching me carefully. “But I need you to promise me something first.”

I flex my fingers as the bindings loosen. “What?”

“That you won’t start swinging the second you’re free.”

I stare at him. My blood is still thrumming with adrenaline, my hands itching to grab the nearest weapon and start demanding answers.

But I’m not an idiot.

With a slow breath, I force my shoulders to relax. “Fine. I won’t hit anyone.”

Desmond studies me for another second before giving his goon a small nod. “Good.”

The last of the ropes fall away. I roll my wrists, flexing my fingers as I stand. My legs are shaky, my head still pounding. But I ignore all of it, my focus locked on Desmond.

“Now start talking.”

Desmond’s expression darkens, a flicker of something like pity crossing his face. “I’ll talk. But first,” he says quietly. “You’re coming home. To Ireland. Where you belong.”

Chapter 26

Fantasia

My wish came true. I wanted out. I wanted to be alone. To find my own way. I wanted Piers gone. And now… I have exactly that.

For the first time in my life, I’m truly alone.

Not at Wesley Hall, where even in the worst moments, I had my brother, the staff, enemies at the very least. I should be pleased I got what I wanted. But here- on this half-empty bus, the road stretching into nothing- I feel it. The emptiness.

I don’t know if anyone’s coming for me, but for now, no one knows where I am.

No one except the small, fragile life growing inside me.

My hand drifts to my stomach, fingers curling over the fabric of my shirt. It’s still too early to feel anything, but I know.

Because I’m never late.

Not once, not even under stress. My cycle has always been predictable, as steady as the ticking of a clock. And yet, days have passed- days that should’ve brought the usual signs, the usual pain- but there’s nothing. Just an aching awareness settling deep in my bones, a quiet certainty I can’t ignore.

I close my eyes, pressing my forehead against the cool window, but it doesn’t help. The thoughts still come, as relentless as the rumbling of the bus beneath me as we wind through dark mountain roads.. I'm numb. Empty. The world outside the window blurs past in streaks of shadow and streetlight, but I can't focus on any of it.

I left him.

I left Piers.

I left him unconscious in the hands of strangers- his family. A brother who told me to run.

And I did.

Not because I wanted to. Not because I stopped wanting him.

But because if I stayed, I would’ve dragged him down. I would’ve been the weight around his neck, the weakness that could be exploited.

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