Chapter 3

That night, Anya knelt at my feet and cried so hard she could barely speak. She clutched my hand and, in a hoarse voice, went through everything one thing at a time. She recounted every detail of the years we had spent growing up together.

She promised to move my father to a better care facility. She also promised to talk to Dolores about letting me see the children.

In the end, she slapped herself across the face and looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Can we start over?"

For my father's sake and the twins', I swallowed my bitterness and nodded, no matter how unwilling I still felt.

Over the next few years, she seemed to settle down. She spent our anniversaries with me and accompanied me whenever I went to see the children.

No matter how late training ran, she always came home. She even removed Harlan as her agent and hired someone else.

Just when I thought everything was finally getting better, Harlan walked into the Castellan residence and slapped an ultrasound photo against my face.

He made no effort to hide the smug satisfaction on his face. "Sorry, Mr. Castellan. Anya is pregnant. Unfortunately, the child is mine. She said she couldn't find any passion with you, so she had to find her release with me. Only a fool like you would ever believe she'd regret it."

So much for firing him and starting over. It had all been nothing more than a way to string me along.

I stared at the ultrasound photo and let out a bitter laugh. "What do you want?"

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Anya doesn't plan on keeping this child, so I..."

A strange smile crossed his face. Then he pulled a dagger from inside his jacket and plunged it into his own chest.

By the time I came back to my senses, the bloodied knife was in my hand.

Anya arrived right on cue.

Her voice tore from her throat in a scream. "Marcus Castellan, what are you doing?!"

She kicked me to the floor and rushed to Harlan's side.

Almost at the same moment, two voices cried out behind her, "Papa!"

They weren't calling for me. They were calling for Harlan.

Both children stepped over the back of my hand, one after the other, and crowded around him with anxious faces.

Even then, Harlan didn't forget to keep up the act. "Don't blame Mr. Castellan. I said something careless, and it set him off..."

His explanation only made Anya angrier.

She spun around and glared at me. "If I'd known you were this vicious, I should've let you be the one hit by that car all those years ago!

"Harlan has already put up with more than enough. What more do you want from him?"

I was just about to speak when my eldest twin, Edward, snatched up the ashtray beside him and hurled it at me. "You hurt my dad! You should die!"

Something cold and sticky trickled over my eyelid.

"What... What did you just call him? I'm your father..." My voice trembled, and I could barely force the words out.

The younger twin, Edwin, spat in my face. "You're nothing but a freeloader! How could you ever deserve to be our father? We're destined to be Grandmasters. Our only father is Harlan Swinton!"

The contempt on his young face mirrored Dolores'. No wonder they had always acted so awkwardly around me whenever I visited the house. They refused to call me Dad and always kept their distance.

Now I finally understood. They were just like Dolores. They despised me too.

I stood there in a daze for a long moment before I burst out laughing. Tears mingled with bright red blood and dripped onto the floor at my feet.

Anya frowned and started toward me, but Harlan let out a pained cry, which immediately drew her attention back to him.

She kicked me aside, helped him to his feet, and rushed out the door. The twins followed close behind.

At the same time, a string of videos flooded my phone. There were birthdays and anniversaries, every occasion I'd thought she'd spent with me. In reality, she had spent the second half of each one with Harlan.

I listened to the bed creak and the sounds she made until something inside me finally broke.

Then I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills.

When the housekeeper called Anya and told her I was dying, she laughed over the phone. "Better if he dies. Then I won't have the two of them weighing me down."

I survived, but the scandal still drew media attention from across the city.

The Ellington family made headlines once again.

When I was wheeled out of the operating room, Dolores stormed over and slapped me across the face again and again without warning.

"You couldn't even keep your own wife, you useless waste, and now you have the nerve to fake your own death!" Then she clamped one hand around my throat and pointed toward the ICU next door with the other. "Your father's life is still in my hands. Damage the Ellington family's reputation one more time, and he won't live past tomorrow!"

At that moment, my two sons stood in the doorway with looks of bitter disappointment on their faces.

Edward scoffed. "This waste of space actually didn't manage to die!"

"If he'd died, Papa Harlan could've joined the Ellington family," Edwin added.