Page 76 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

Vianden Castle.

Of course Harold would pick somewhere like this- a fortress, ancient and imposing, perched on a hill like it’s daring anyone to challenge it.

Valeria’s small, limp form is lifted out next. One of Harold’s men carries her like she’s nothing more than a bundle of blankets, her pink jacket hood slipping slightly to reveal a lock of soft red hair.

“Move,” Harold snaps from behind me, shoving me forward.

I stumble up the stone steps, my eyes locked on Valeria ahead of me. Every step feels heavier than the last, like I’m dragging my own dread along with me. The castle doors loom large and menacing, the iron-bound wood darkened with age. They creak open, swallowing us whole as Harold’s men funnel us inside.

The corridor opens into a cavernous hall, its high ceilings lost in shadow. The air is stale, heavy with the scent of cold stone and damp earth. My breath hitches when I see them.

Piers and Achilles.

They stand near the center of the room, flanked by a few men I vaguely recognize- Warwick loyalists, no doubt. Achilles’s stance is rigid, arms crossed over his chest like he’s barely holding himself back. His sharp gaze flicks from Harold’s men to me, then to Valeria.

But it’s Piers who steals my breath.

It’s been so long. I never thought I’d see him like this again. And yet, here we are, on opposite sides of this cruel game.

He’s a little thinner than I remember, a little harder around the eyes. He stands tall, broad-shouldered and unflinching. He looks at me, his face is set like stone, expression unreadable, but there’s something off- something distant in his eyes.

Is it just my mind playing tricks on me, or has something inside him changed? His affection for me, the passion that once burned so brightly, feels… absent. And maybe that’s for the best. Maybe I’m not the woman he thought I was, the woman he thought he could save.

Harold steps forward, his smug grin widening.

“You know the deal,” he says, his voice curling through the air like smoke. “You pay, and you get your girls back.” He gestures lazily to me and Valeria. “Simple as that.”

Achilles steps forward, his voice sharp. “The deal was that you hand them over first.”

Harold’s smile tightens. “And what’s to stop you from turning around and walking away once you’ve got them?”

“We’re not leaving without them,” Achilles says, his voice low and firm.

As I stand there, every inch of my body trembling, my eyes lock on Piers. For a moment, it feels like time stills. My breath catches in my throat as I try to read him, to find even a sliver of the man I once knew.

He watches me now with the same dark eyes, still steady, still sure- but the warmth that once lived there has bled out. What remains is a ghost of that affection, pale and hollow as a winter sun.

I don’t know if he even recognizes me anymore.

It’s as if the years between us have erased the bond we shared, reduced it to nothing more than a distant memory, a fleeting moment in time. The longing that used to flicker in his eyes when he looked at me- the longing I’d once felt reflected back in his gaze- is gone.

Is this how it ends? With me standing before him, a stranger in his eyes?

“You’ll get the money,” Achilles adds, stepping in closer. “But not until you’ve handed them over.”

Harold’s voice cuts through the cold air like a blade.

“Fine,” he says, his grin sharp and wicked. “You can have her.”

Before I can react, one of his men shoves me forward. I stumble, my shoulder slamming into Piers’s chest. His hands come up instinctively, gripping my arms to steady me. For a heartbeat, I can’t breathe. For the first time in two years, I’m in his arms again.

But there’s no comfort in his touch. His grip is firm, distant- like he’s bracing himself for something worse.

“Where’s Valeria?” My voice cracks, fraying at the edges like torn fabric. I thrash against Piers’s grip, scanning the swarm of Harold’s men—too many faces, too many uniforms, none of them hers.

And then I see her- still cradled in one of his goon’s arms, her tiny face turned against his chest.

Harold strides over, his cold smile curling wider as he plucks my sleeping daughter from the man’s grasp. My heart stutters- he’s bringing her closer, his arms shifting like he’s about to pass her to me.

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