CHAPTER 40 – COLLISION
L U C I A N
I had been staring at the paper for almost an hour now, but the numbers never changed.
99.9% probability.
No matter how many times I blinked, no matter how many times I folded and unfolded the report, the truth stared back at me.
They were mine.
I should have felt relief, maybe even joy, but all I felt was a strange, hollow ache that spread through my chest like wildfire. Five years. I had missed five years of their lives. First steps, first words, first birthdays. All gone.
And yet, this was no one else's fault but mine.
I had allowed that night to turn me into stone. I had allowed myself to bury it so deep that it only resurfaced when those two pairs of identical gray eyes stared up at me from across a restaurant table, making my heart stop.
"Still staring at it?"
Silas's voice cut through my thoughts. He strolled into my office, as casual as ever, a file tucked under his arm.
"Boss, at this point you might as well frame that report. I swear, I've never seen you obsess over anything this much. And that includes the time you nearly bought out a competitor just because they annoyed you."
I ignored the jab and set the report down, rubbing a hand across my jaw.
"I need to see her."
Silas raised a brow. "See her? Or confront her? Because you, boss, have been doing nothing but pacing and glaring at windows for a whole month. If this is going to be a scene, I'd like to mentally prepare."
"I'm not here for theatrics," I said sharply.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, that irritatingly smug look on his face.
"Sure you're not. Look, I've seen those kids. Hell, anyone with eyes has seen them. They're yours. They look like your tiny clones, boss. This" he tapped the report on my desk"is just paper. You already knew the truth."
"I needed to be certain."
"Certain." Silas shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. "Right. Because a man like you only moves when everything is calculated to the last decimal. What are you even going to say to her when you see her? 'Hi, I'm the guy from the worst night of your life, but surprise, we share DNA now?'"
I shot him a look that made him chuckle.
"Fine, fine," he said, pushing off the doorframe. "I'll have the car ready. Just try not to terrify the poor woman when you show up. Your 'CEO death stare' isn't exactly welcoming."
I didn't answer. I was already thinking about her.
By the time we reached the boutique, my hands were tight fists at my sides.
Her boutique sat in one of Arden City's busiest streets, its window display tasteful and understated, the name Hale Atelier etched in elegant gold letters on the glass.
The door chimed softly when I stepped inside.
The scent hit me first rich layers of sandalwood, amber, and a faint sweetness I couldn't name. The place was warm, filled with soft golden light and neat rows of perfume bottles, candles, oils.
And then she appeared from the back room.
Rina.
She froze when she saw me. The color drained from her face, then came rushing back in a hot, angry flush.
"You," she breathed, her voice sharp as broken glass.
I said nothing at first. My throat felt like it had closed up.
She walked toward me, her steps measured, deliberate, her fury barely contained.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"I needed to see you," I said evenly.
"For what?" Her laugh was bitter. "To finish what you started?"
That stung, sharper than I expected.
"I didn't start anything," I said.
Her eyes blazed. "You"
Get out!
I tried to move close to her.
The words broke off, and then her hand moved before I could react.
The sound of the slap cracked through the boutique like a gunshot.
For a moment, all I heard was the ringing in my ears. My cheek burned, my control slipping like sand through my fingers.
No one had ever dared do that.
No one.
And yet here she was, standing in front of me, chest heaving, defiance written in every line of her face.
"You think you can just walk into my life after five years and pretend nothing happened?" she spat.
"You think I had a choice?" I snapped back, my voice lower, darker.
She faltered, just slightly, but her chin stayed high.
"You ruined my life," she said, every word laced with venom.
I took a step forward, towering over her now, though I kept my voice steady.
"You think I wanted that night? You think I wanted to wake up the next morning not knowing what the hell had happened?"
Her brows knit together, anger warring with something else.
"You expect me to believe you're a victim?"
"I was drugged, Rina." My voice was deadly calm. "Just like you. I never would have touched you otherwise."
For the first time, she didn't have a quick reply. Her mouth opened, then closed.
I softened my tone, just barely. "I don't know who did this to you, but I swear to you it wasn't me."
But her walls were still up.
"I don't care," she bit out. "Whatever happened that night doesn't change anything. You don't get to show up now and demand anything from me."
I clenched my jaw. "I'm not leaving you until we settle this."
"Then don't," she said coldly. "But stay the hell away from me and my children."
Her voice cracked on the last word, but she turned on her heel and disappeared into the back room before I could say anything else.
R I N A
I stood there, my hands shaking so badly I had to brace myself against the counter.
The slap still tingled across my palm, but it wasn't enough to burn away the fire raging in my chest.
How dare he?
How dare he show up here, after five years, acting like he was the one who had been wronged?
I had spent years clawing my way out of the darkness of that night, years building a new life, a safe life and now he thought he could just walk in and shatter it with a few well-chosen words?
No.
I wouldn't allow it.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the counter, breathing hard until the tremors in my hands eased.
When I finally straightened, my reflection in the display glass was pale, my eyes wild, my hair a little out of place.
I barely recognized myself.
But I recognized the fury in my eyes.
He thought he could come here and make me doubt myself.
He thought he could tell me he was also a victim and somehow make it all okay.
Not a chance.
I was done being the girl who let other people decide her fate.
If he thought this was over, he was wrong.