Chapter 6 – His Child.... But Not Mine

Evelyn

Come into my arms?? What does that even mean?? Who the heck is this sender??

My fingers tightened slightly around my phone, my heartbeat uneven, my thoughts running in circles that made no sense.

“It's a yes, right!” Sebastian’s voice cut through everything. I looked up slowly.

He was smiling. Not just smiling—grinning like a man who had already decided the outcome, like my answer was just a formality. His eyes were bright, expectant, and for a second, I wondered if he could even see me at all.

What could I possibly say at this point? When he was standing there, lying without hesitation, calling her his cousin like I was supposed to nod and accept it.

“Is she really your cousin?” I asked, my voice calm, but it didn’t feel calm inside.

His face shifted, just slightly. But I caught it.

“What do you mean?” he replied quickly, his tone rising a notch as he straightened. “I said she’s my cousin. Don’t you believe me?”

I held his gaze, my lips pressing together before I spoke again. “It’s just that I’ve never seen her before…”

The woman beside him adjusted her posture, her fingers still resting on his shoulder like she had every right to be there. Like she belonged in that space more than I did.

“I know it’s confusing, darling,” Sebastian said smoothly, his voice softening in that way he used when he wanted to sound reasonable. “I just found her recently also.”

Darling. The word felt misplaced.

“Really… should I ask your family about it?” The question slipped out, but the moment it did, something tightened in my chest.

His mother. The woman who never liked me. Who barely tolerated my presence.

If she found out there was another woman… one who could give him a child—She wouldn’t hesitate. She’d throw me out without a second thought. And my sister… my sister wouldn’t survive that.

“I can call my mom…” Sebastian said, already half-reaching for his phone, like he was eager to prove his point.

Panic flickered through me instantly. “It’s alright…” I cut in quickly, my voice quieter now, almost tired. “Just do what you want…”

I turned before my face could betray me, before the tears could rise where he could see them.

I barely took a step when his hands grabbed mine.

Firm. Stopping me.

“Why did you also come here?” he asked, pulling me back slightly. His eyes narrowed just a little. “What for?”

My heart skipped. I couldn’t tell him.

I couldn’t tell him I came for IVF, not when he was standing here with a pregnant woman, not when he already looked… content.

“I…” My voice faltered for a second before I forced the words out. “I just came for a full body check-up.”

The lie sat heavy in my chest.

“Oh my—are you sick?” His reaction was immediate. He stepped closer, concern flashing across his face as his hand reached for my forehead.

I stopped him, pushing his hand away gently but firmly. “I’m fine.”

He frowned slightly. “Next time, tell me, okay?”

A soft scoff escaped me before I could stop it.

Tell him? Tell the man who left me on the road like I didn’t matter?

“We need to go now,” he said, already turning his attention back to her like I had just been a brief interruption. “I need to help her carry her things into the house. See you later. Take a taxi home… you have cash, right?”

I stared at him, disbelief sitting heavy in my chest.

“I’m sure she doesn’t,” the woman—Kate—added softly, a small smile playing on her lips. “Give her some.”

My fingers curled slowly, nails pressing into my palm as the anger burned quietly inside me.

“Don’t worry about me,” I said, my voice steady despite everything clawing inside me. “I’ll find my way.”

I didn’t wait for a reply. I turned and walked away.

The moment I stepped out of their sight, everything broke. The tears came fast, blurring my vision as my chest tightened painfully. I kept walking, not even sure where I was going, just needing to get away before I completely fell apart.

But something made me turn. I wish I didn’t.

They were laughing. And him… his hand rested on her stomach, gently rubbing it like it meant everything to him.

My phone chimed.

I wiped my face quickly and looked down.

The doctor.

A message.

[“Since you left without a proper discussion, I’m about to discuss it with your husband…”]

“No—!” The word left me before I could stop it, panic surging through me as my fingers shook while dialing her number.

She picked up almost immediately.

“Doctor, please......don’t call my husband,” I said quickly, my voice tight, breath uneven. “We don’t need the IVF anymore.”

There was a pause on the other end. "Are you sure? You’ve been trying for years now. This is your chance—”

“I said I don’t need it anymore!” My voice broke through, sharper than I intended, but I didn’t take it back.

Silence followed. Then the call ended.

I lowered the phone slowly, my chest rising and falling like I had just run miles.

One moment I was outside, the next, I was at the bar again.

“Give me the strongest one,” I said, my voice rough, my fingers gripping the counter. “Something that burns.”

The bartender nodded and poured. I picked up the glass and drank.

It burned all the way down, sharp and unforgiving, but it still didn’t touch the ache inside me.

So I drank again and again and again.

Each one faster than the last, like I was trying to drown something that refused to sink.

“Give me another,” I said, pushing the empty glass forward.

But before the bartender could move, a hand stopped him, grabbing the glass.

I frowned and looked up.

Damon.

“That’s enough,” he said calmly, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “Don’t give her any more.”

“What do you care?” I shot back immediately, my eyes narrowing at him. “And why are you here? Have you been following me around?”

He tilted his head slightly, watching me. “Do you wish I did?”

I blinked at him, then rolled my eyes. Oh, he was definitely crazy.

He sat down beside me like he had all the time in the world, biting lightly on his lower lip as if he found this situation mildly entertaining.

“Is this how you talk to someone who practically saved you just hours ago?” he added.

I ignored him completely. I didn’t want anything to do with the Morettis anymore. Especially not him. If anything, I disliked him the most.

“Give me another one,” I told the bartender again, my voice sharper now. “I’m the one paying. What’s your business with him?”

The bartender hesitated. Damon didn’t.

“I’m the boss,” he said simply, his tone steady.

Then his gaze settled on me, firm, unyielding.

“And for now… you won’t be given any more alcohol.”

I scoffed, shaking my head.

I stared at him, my brows pulling together as I searched his face, trying to make sense of him, of the way he kept stepping in like I was somehow his business.

“Why do you care so much?” I asked.

His lips curved, not quite a smile.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes still on mine—calm, certain, like he’d been waiting for that question.

Then he stepped closer. Not much… just enough to make it noticeable.

His gaze dipped briefly to my lips before lifting again.

“That’s exactly the problem,” he murmured.