Page 81 of Filthy Rich Silver Foxes
“Oh, you must be loving this. You get to step in and play the hero. This time you get to keep the girl because she needs you, is that it?”
“Sebastian!” Genevieve’s shock should set me straight, but I can’t let go of the anger long enough to stop hurtling down this road.
"She’s pregnant," I say, my voice flat, letting the words fall between us like a gauntlet thrown at his feet. "And that child isn’t yours. It’smine."
Silas doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even look surprised. He just stares back at me with the same steady, infuriating calm he always wears when he’s already made up his mind about something.
His silence punches hard.
He knew.
He fucking knew.
"You knew," I snarl, stepping forward.
Silas squares his shoulders. He meets my eyes without hesitation, not a flicker of guilt or apology on his face.
"I figured it out," he says evenly. "She never said it out loud, but I’m not stupid."
The casualness in his voice is a lie. I see the edge under it, the weight behind every word.
"You knew," I say again, louder this time, stepping forward until there’s barely a foot of space between us, "and you didn’t fucking tell me."
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t back up. His mouth hardens into a grim line. "It wasn’t my place."
Every muscle in my body goes taut, pulled tight enough that moving feels dangerous. I want to hit him. I want to tear this room apart until there’s nothing left but the truth between us.
"She tried to reach out to you," Silas says, voice cold now, stripped of all the easy charm he usually wears like armor. "You didn’t answer. You made it very clear you didn’t want to talk. She respected that."
My fists curl at my sides, the force of it sharp enough to send a bolt of pain up my arms. It grounds me, barely.
"You had no right to decide what I deserved to know," I grit out.
Silas’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes darken, a dangerous weight settling behind them. "No? What were you going to do, Sebastian? Storm back into her life because you feel guilty? Show up out of obligation because you suddenly realized you left something behind?"
I step forward again, crowding into his space, close enough to feel the heat coming off him, the tension coiling between us, ready to snap.
"She deserves better than that," Silas says, his voice cutting across mine before I can respond. "Better than you showing up because you finally realized you fucked up."
I breathe hard through my nose, the force of it scraping against my ribs. The room feels smaller, heavier, the air charged with violence waiting for a spark.
"Yeah?" I snarl. "Apparently, she deserves both of my best friends. You can keep the gold-digging whore."
The words are out before I can stop them, vicious and poisonous and meant to wound.
For a half-second, everything freezes.
And then Silas moves.
His fist connects with my jaw, snapping my head to the side with enough force to send me stumbling back a step. The crack of impact echoes through the room.
Pain blossoms along my jawline, radiating out through my skull, white-hot and blinding.
I move my jaw, the taste of blood sharp against my tongue, and straighten.
The fire that ignites in my chest is immediate. I can feel it threatening to consume me. I want to hit him back. I want to drive him into the nearest wall and remind him who the fuck he’s dealing with.
But some small part of me recognizes he’s not entirely wrong.
