“What?” I whisper, still trying to process what Antonio just said. The room feels like it’s closing in on me, and I can’t catch my breath."It's just speculation, boss. Nothing’s been confirmed," Antonio adds, trying to soften the blow. His tone is calm, steady, but it doesn't help. “That’s why I didn’t want to mention it at first.”But I can’t focus on what he's saying anymore. My mind is already stuck on the thought—the gut-wrenching possibility—that Mike isn’t my son. My son. He’s been difficult lately, sure, rebellious and testing every boundary, but he’s mine. That can’t be a lie. No way.Gladys is doing this on purpose. It has to be her trying to mess with me. She knows how to twist the knife, play these games. She’s always been like that—manipulating people, pulling strings to get under my skin.“Are you sure she hasn’t figured out you bugged her room?” I ask. “Maybe this is just her way of getting in my head, trying to make me doubt everything.”Antonio shakes his head. “No, t
Desiree's POVI’ve been watching Caspian walk back and forth, his steps heavy. Something’s off. I feel it in the way he won’t meet my eyes, the way his hand keeps running through his hair like he’s trying to pull himself together but failing.“Hey, Cherry,” he says finally, walking toward me. He tries to smile, but it’s thin, barely there. “You shouldn’t be on your feet, and you know it.”“I’m fine, Caspian,” I reply, brushing off his concern. “But you don’t look fine. What’s going on?”He hesitates. His hand moves to rub the back of his neck, something he only does when he’s nervous. There’s a long pause. I know whatever’s coming isn’t good.Before he can answer, the man sitting on the couch—dark-haired, sharp-eyed—speaks up. “Hi,” he says, smiling in a way that makes me uneasy. “Pleasure meeting you. I’m Antonio.”So this is the Antonio. Caspian’s private investigator. I’ve known about him for a while—heard his name enough times—but seeing him in person? It feels strange. Like he kn
I hear Caspian’s footsteps behind me. He kneels and rubs my back. “Desiree, what’s wrong?” His voice is soft, full of concern. He brushes my hair away from my face as I vomit again, the bitter taste filling my mouth.When it finally stops, I rest my head against the toilet, trying to catch my breath. “I’m fine,” I say, though I know I’m not. I get up, my legs shaky, and move to the sink, splashing cold water on my face.Caspian's standing behind me now. “You’re not fine,” he says. “You just ran out of bed to throw up. What’s going on?”I avoid his gaze in the mirror, focusing on the water instead. “I don’t know. Maybe I ate something bad?”He doesn’t say anything, but I know he doesn’t believe me. He steps closer, his hand gently cupping my face. “Cherry, don’t hide things from me. If something’s wrong, tell me. Do we need to see the doctor again? Are you taking the medication he gave you?”I want to tell him everything I’m feeling—the fear, the uncertainty. But I can’t, not yet. So,
Mike has always been a gym freak. I don’t need to call to know he’ll be here, throwing weights around like he’s preparing for a heavyweight championship. As I step inside the gym, the familiar scent of sweat and rubber fills my nostrils. The air is thick with testosterone, but I don’t care. I’m not here for anything other than to drop the truth on Mike.I spot him immediately, his muscular arms straining as he presses another weight up. His face is set in concentration, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and onto his chest. He’s showing off, of course, making sure everyone sees how much he can lift. It’s always been his thing—looking strong, invincible. But I know the truth. I know how weak he really is underneath all that bravado.I walk toward him. As I get closer, he drops the weights onto the rack and sits up, wiping his forehead with a towel. When he finally looks at me, his lips curl into that same cocky smirk I used to fall for. Now it just makes me sick.“Well, well, wel
Caspian's POVI find myself pacing around the living room, feeling like a trapped animal. The clock ticks, one second turning into two, and my frustration grows. Desiree still isn't home, and the thought of her with Mike kills me. Why did she have to meet him? Why couldn’t she let someone else handle this? My hands move to my hair as I stop in front of the window, staring outside but not really seeing anything. I try calling her again, but there’s no answer. Every minute feels like a century. Where is she? The longer I wait, the more agitated I become. I find myself grabbing my phone and dialing her again, my finger tapping impatiently on the side of my leg. This time, something strange happens—I hear the sound of a phone ringing, not through the earpiece, but from inside the house. "What the hell?" I say, lowering my phone and looking around. The sound is coming from upstairs.I jog up the stairs, following the sound to our bedroom. It’s coming from her bag, casually tossed on the
I run my hands through my hair, pacing the room again, my heart pounding in my chest. “I don’t know what to think anymore! You’ve been lying to me for days, and you’re telling me it’s not even my decision whether we keep the baby?”“This isn’t about you, Caspian. This is about me. My life. My body. I’m the one who has to carry this baby.”“I know that,” I say. “But it’s our baby, Desiree. You can’t just shut me out like this. I have a right to know. I have a right to be part of this decision.”She looks away, her jaw tight, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “And what if I’m not ready?” she whispers. “What if I’m not ready to be a mother?”I stop pacing. “Desiree… you can’t mean that.”“I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t know if I can do this. We have so much going on, so much… mess. And I’m scared, Caspian. I’m scared of what this means for us. For me.”I take a step closer, my heart aching at the sight of her. “You don’t have to be scared. We’ll figure this out.
It’s been days since the fight with Desiree, and she still refuses to talk to me. The silence between us isn’t just uncomfortable—it’s suffocating. I wake up each morning with the same ache in my chest, wishing things were different, wishing we could just go back to how we were before. But every morning, it feels like we’re drifting further apart.Today’s no different. I open my eyes to the faint light filtering through the curtains and roll over. Desiree’s there, sitting up against the headboard, her knees drawn to her chest. Between us is a row of pillows—her line in the sand. That barrier she’s been building up between us since the fight. The sight of it hits me like a punch to the gut, a reminder of just how distant she’s become.I try anyway. “Good morning,” I say, my voice rough from sleep, hoping maybe today will be different.She doesn’t even look at me. Just flips me off and slides out of bed, heading for the door without a word.The door clicks shut behind her, and I’m left
“What?” I say, harsher than I intended. But I don’t care. Not right now.Mike hesitates, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and rubs the back of his neck. His eyes avoid mine. “I, uh… wanted to apologize,” he mutters, not meeting my eyes. “You know, for everything. For Mabel putting you through all this stress.”I narrow my eyes, not buying it for a second. “Mabel, huh? Just Mabel?”He finally looks up, and there’s something there—defensiveness, maybe? “Yeah,” he says. “I mean… she’s the one who pushed the whole thing. You know how she is.”“And you? You’re not part of this?”Mike shrugs, glancing away. “I didn’t exactly agree with how she handled it, but… look, Dad, I didn’t have much choice.”I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “You told Desiree I’m going to sign some document to divorce her. How dare you?”Mike’s face hardens. “Oh, we’re talking about playing dirty now? You sent Desiree to lie to me about my wife cheating. So don’t stand there and act like you’re