04: Blood and Secrets

(Robert POV)

I sat in my study, staring at nothing.

I'd finally gotten her.

The thought should've felt like victory. Instead, it sat heavy in my chest like swallowed glass.

Mia's face kept surfacing in my mind—the way she'd smiled at the altar, forced and brittle. How she'd looked anywhere but at me during the vows. Those words she'd spoken meant nothing to her. Less than nothing.

A knock.

"Sir, the document you requested." Dennis stepped inside, my private investigator's face unreadable as always. He placed a manila folder on the desk.

"The accident?" I asked.

"Evidence points to the Black Wolves. Someone in the club has it out for you."

My jaw tightened. "Find out who. Or every single member pays."

"Yes, sir."

He left. The door clicked shut.

I opened the folder.

DNA results. Johnson Ross and Mia Ross. Probability of paternity: 0%.

I'd suspected. Now I knew.

Johnson wasn't her father. That's why he'd gambled her away so easily—she'd never been his to lose.

But if Johnson wasn't her father, then who was?

I closed the folder and rubbed my face. Exhaustion pulled at my edges, but sleep felt impossible. My mind kept circling back to her—to the girl I'd watched for years from across a coffee shop counter. The one who'd smiled at me like I was just another customer, not a man who could buy the entire block.

The girl I'd found crying under a kiosk one rainy afternoon, soaked and shaking, and couldn't forget no matter how hard I tried.

I stood. My legs carried me down the hall before I'd decided to move.

Outside her door, I stopped.

*What are you doing?*

My hand hovered over the doorknob.

*She'll think you're here for something else. She'll think you want—*

The thought sent ice down my spine.

I pushed the door open anyway. Just a crack.

She was asleep.

The room's soft light painted her skin gold. She lay on her side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other stretched across the empty space beside her. Her nightgown had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the curve of her collarbone, the gentle slope down to—

I looked away.

She deserved someone better than this. Better than a contract. Better than me.

The air conditioning hummed. She'd be cold.

I should go in. Pull the blanket over her. Make sure she was warm.

But if I touched her—even just to cover her—would she wake up terrified? Would she think I'd come to claim what the contract said was mine *at my discretion*?

I couldn't do that to her.

I closed the door. Carefully. The latch clicked soft as a breath.

Back in my room, I stripped and stood under scalding water until my skin turned red. Changed into pajamas. Collapsed onto my bed.

My phone lit up on the nightstand.

Victoria.

I ignored it.

It buzzed again.

**James is awake. And he knows about your marriage.**

I was out the door in seconds.

---

The hospital hallway smelled like disinfectant and dying flowers. My shoes squeaked on linoleum as I ran toward the private wing.

James Lud. The man who'd raised me. Trained me. Built me into something useful.

The man whose blood ran through my veins—a fact we'd only discovered six months ago when he'd needed a transfusion and I'd been the only match.

Five years I'd worked under his name, carrying his legacy, thinking I was adopted. A charity case he'd taken in and molded.

Then the blood test came back, and everything I thought I knew shattered.

He was my father. Biological. Real.

And he'd never told me.

I pushed open the door to his room.

James sat propped against pillows, looking thinner than I remembered. Older. The DNA results lay on his lap like an accusation. Victoria stood by the window, arms crossed, satisfaction dripping from her smile.

"Son." James's voice was rough from disuse.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

"He got married today," Victoria said sweetly. "To some girl. Without your permission."

James's expression darkened like storm clouds rolling in. The warmth drained from his face, replaced by something cold and sharp.

"It was necessary," I said, hating how defensive I sounded. "The club won't grant me a presidential seat without a wife. You know that. The company needs—"

"You dare disobey me over a *position*?" His voice filled the room, heavy as thunder.

"I did it for you. For the company. For—"

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into." He turned his face away. "Get out of my sight."

The words hit like a punch.

Not *congratulations*. Not *we'll discuss this later*. Not even acknowledgment that I was his son—his *real* son—standing in front of him.

Victoria's smile widened.

She'd been holding this over me for months. Threatening to expose the truth—that I wasn't James Lud's adopted protégé but his biological son. His heir. His blood.

The scandal would destroy everything. The company. The family name. My position in the Venoms.

"Robert." James's voice stopped me at the door. I turned, hope flickering.

His eyes were cold. Empty. "You chose her over my wishes. Live with that choice."

---

I drove home too fast, the city blurring past in streaks of light.

My phone buzzed. Victoria again.

**You should've listened. Now we do this my way.**

I threw the phone onto the passenger seat.

The mansion was dark when I arrived. Silent. I climbed the stairs to the apartment, my legs heavy.

Outside Mia's door, I stopped again.

She was in there. Asleep. Unaware that marrying me had just painted a target on her back.

James didn't approve. Victoria was circling like a shark. And I'd dragged Mia into the middle of it all because I'd been too selfish, too desperate to let her go.

I pressed my palm against the door.

*I'm sorry.*

But sorry didn't fix anything.

Sorry didn't keep her safe.

I went to my room and didn't sleep.

Outside, the city hummed. Inside, the clock on my nightstand ticked toward dawn.

And somewhere in the dark, Victoria was planning her next move.