Page 64 of Sinful Obsession
He expected me to trust him, to let him inject me after everything he’d done? “You’re insane if you think I’ll let you touch me,” I said, my voice fierce despite my trembling. “I’m not just fighting for myself anymore. I’m fighting for my baby.”
Ethan’s eyes flicked to my belly, and I froze, terror gripping me.
Had he always known? “You raped me,” I said, my voice breaking, anger and fear colliding. “This baby—it’s yours, isn’t it?”
“No,” he said, setting the syringe down with deliberate care. “I tortured you, yes. Kept you on this boat, broke you down to keep you compliant. But rape? Never. If you take this injection, you’ll remember. You’ll know I didn’t touch you like that.”
I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “You’re a liar. A monster.” But doubt crept in, insidious and sharp.
What if he was telling the truth? What if the baby wasn’t his? The DNA sample in my pocket burned against my thigh, a lifeline I couldn’t use here, not now.
“Where’s Cassian’s DNA sample?” Ethan asked, his voice low, as if he could read my thoughts.
I flinched, my hand twitching toward my pocket before I stopped myself. “Answer my question first,” I screamed, hating his calm, hating how it made me feel unhinged. “Why did you do this? Who’s behind it?”
He stepped closer, and I pressed myself against the seat, my heart racing. “You were a pawn, Charlotte,” he said, his voice soft but laced with steel. “A way to ruin Cassian, to break the Morettis. But you became more than that. I didn’t expect you to fight so hard, to survive.”
Chapter 10
CHARLOTTE
Ethan remained standing before me, the syringe in his hand glinting like a blade under the dim cabin lights. “I’ll explain further if you take this injection,” he said, his voice calm but edged with a menace that made my pulse spike. “I could force you, Charlotte, but that wouldn’t be good for you.”
My hand flew to my belly, the small bump a lifeline anchoring me to reality.
My baby.
What if this drug—whatever poison he held—hurt them?
Fear gripped my chest, squeezing until I could barely breathe.
My body still aching from the trek through the woods.
I opened my mouth to protest, to beg him to stop, but Ethan moved faster. He lunged, his grip iron on my wrist, and slammed the needle into my arm.
Pain seared through me, a white-hot burn that tore a whimper from my throat.
“Be calm,” he ordered, his voice commanding as he pinned me to the seat. “Thrash, and you’ll hurt yourself.”
I yanked against him, tears stinging my eyes, but his strength was unyielding.
The plunger sank, pumping the liquid into my vein, and he stepped back, his eyes cold.
“I swear,” I gasped, my voice raw with rage, “if this harms my baby, I’ll kill you, Ethan.”
“It won’t,” he said, his tone infuriatingly calm. “It’s safe. I had it tested by Russian neuroscientists. The compound targets the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex, rebuilding suppressed synaptic connections. It’ll restore your memories, Charlotte. Every single one.”
I glared at him, my arm throbbing where the needle had bitten, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst.
“Your bullshit didn’t work,” I spat after several minutes, the silence heavy with my distrust. My mind was still a fog, fragments of my past taunting me.
Then it hit.
A blinding pain, like a sledgehammer slamming into my skull, splintering my thoughts.
I screamed, clutching my head as memories crashed in—once, twice, a relentless flood.
My grandfather’s voice, frail but firm, making me promise to marry a Moretti to secure my inheritance.
