Page 69 of Sinful Obsession
Was it better to tell him now? Maybe he’d be gentler, seeing the life we’d created—though I doubted it.
“I need to tell you something,” I said, my voice shaky as we entered the living room.
“Get inside,” he commanded, his expression masked.
I stepped in, sinking onto the plush couch, my hands twisting in my lap.
Cassian appeared, settling beside me like a king on his throne, legs crossed with deliberate ease, his gaze fixed on me.
“I remember everything now,” I said, forcing my voice steady, meeting his eyes. “How we met—the club, the kiss to escape those men chasing me. How you kidnapped Luca on our wedding day, forced me to marry you instead. The chains, the leash... taking me from behind because of my flat chest—all because of what my mother did to yours.”
He leaned forward slightly, voice low, dangerous. “Why did you leave?”
“You scare me,” I admitted, my chest tight, heart pounding. “I don’t want to live with you. And we’re not even married. Why should I? On what basis?”
His eyes darkened, heat and possession radiating off him. “Marriage or not... you’re mine. You’ll stay with me. And yes—you’ll marry me again.”
I shot back, defiance burning through my fear. “No. I won’t. Not unless you force me again.”
A shadow of a smile flickered on his lips, but his tone was lethal. “I won’t have to,” he said.
My heart grew heavy, the words rehearsing in my mind like a prayer. I swallowed hard, forcing them out. “I... I’m pregnant.”
“What?” The mask he always wore shattered, replaced by a wildfire of fury in his eyes. He rose, towering over me, every inch of him radiating danger. “With... Ethan’s baby?”
I hesitated, the truth stuck in my throat, but I couldn’t lie. Not about this.
“Answer my fucking question,” he growled, his voice thunderous. “You’re pregnant with Ethan’s baby?”
“No,” I said, my voice steady despite the fear. “The child is yours.”
He laughed, a bitter, disbelieving sound, stepping back and pacing like a caged animal. “We haven’t seen each other in two years, let alone fucked. We only had sex a week ago, and you’re already pregnant? Bullshit.”
“I’m three months along, and it’s yours,” I insisted, rising to face him. “Ethan explained—he got your sperm and induced it into me through in vitro fertilization. Artificial insemination, Cassian. No sex involved.”
Another harsh laugh tore from him, and he slammed his fist into the wall. Plaster cracked, and the sound of bone striking bone reverberated. “Jokes on you, Charlotte. He fucked you, and that baby’s his. I should’ve made his death slower, more painful.”
“Why won’t you believe me?” I pleaded, stepping closer. “We can do a test. A DNA test. It’s possible, even with the baby still in my belly—non-invasive prenatal testing.”
“Fuck the test!” he roared, his face twisted in rage. “That boy was a liar, a snake in the grass. You saw it yourself—pretending to be your friend, your savior. And you still trust his word?”
“We can just do the test,” I said, my voice breaking. “It’ll prove it.”
He turned, his eyes blazing. “Listen, woman—that baby isn’t mine. Stop dreaming.”
I watched as he turned away, his bruised hand flexing, blood trickling from split knuckles.
Then he pulled out his phone, dialing with furious precision. “I want everything on the Bellucci Clan burned to the ground,” he barked into the receiver.
He paused, listening. “Good.”
“Cassian, don’t start a war,” I begged, grabbing his arm. “You don’t know what you’re unleashing.”
“You shut the fuck up!” he snarled, shaking me off, his voice a whip.
The call ended, and the room fell silent, heavy with the storm he’d just unleashed.
I sank back onto the couch, my hand on my belly, the baby’s presence a quiet promise amid the chaos.
