Page 80 of Sinful Obsession
He turned it over in his hands, then looked at me, his voice steady but heavy. “You have kids now, Charlotte.”
“Ethan’s kids,” I lied, the words bitter on my tongue, desperate to keep my twins from his grasp.
He smirked, a dark, knowing curve of his lips. “No. I think they’re mine.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he sank back onto the couch, deep in thought. “I found out Ethan had a low sperm count—practically infertile. The chances of him fathering a child are next to zero. That ‘daughter’ he claimed? Not his. His ex-girlfriend lied to bleed him for child support.”
My breath caught, my lie crumbling under his scrutiny.
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I need to perform a DNA test on your kids to be sure they’re mine.”
“I don’t need you to be sure of anything,” I hissed, stepping closer, my fists clenched. “Hell, I don’t need you at all.”
“If I have kids, it’s my right to be in their lives,” he said, standing now, towering over me with that commanding presence that once made me weak. “Take me to them, Charlotte, so I can get a DNA sample.”
“You think you can waltz in here and control my life again?” I shot back, my voice trembling with rage. “You still think you own me, huh?”
“I should at least have a say in my kids’ lives,” he growled, his eyes burning with intensity. “Take me to them. Now.”
I stared at him, my mind racing.
He wasn’t going to leave, not without answers.
I needed him out of my house, away from the traces of Aria and Asher.
“Okay,” I said, nodding slowly, my voice cold. “Follow me.”
I walked out, my heart hammering, and he followed, his boots heavy on the wooden floor.
Outside, he pointed to a sleek black Bentley parked by the curb. “I brought a car,” he said, opening the passenger door for me.
I slid in.
“Where to?” he asked, starting the ignition with a low rumble.
I gave him an address, one I’d memorized for this exact moment, my voice steady despite the lie forming in my mind.
He punched it into the GPS, his fingers swift, and pulled into traffic.
As he drove, his gaze flicked to me, his voice raw with something like regret. “If those kids are mine... I’ll never forgive myself for sending you away, Charlotte.”
I looked out the window, refusing to meet his eyes.
“You don’t get to regret it now,” I said, my voice tight. “Being a single mother isn’t for the weak. You have no idea what I went through.”
The drive felt endless.
We arrived at a quiet, overgrown cemetery on the city’s outskirts.
Cassian parked, stepping out with a frown, and I led him through the grass, my heart pounding as I stopped before two small, unmarked graves, their stones weathered and bare.
He stood beside me.
“What is this?” he asked, his voice uncertain.
“This is where I buried my twin,” I lied, my voice steady.
“One had a weak heart—it gave out before she even turned three. The other developed something worse, a shadow in her lungs that spread too fast. I lost them both before I could even try to save them.”
I looked down, swallowing hard. “It hurts. Every day, it hurts.”
