CHAPTER 7: Collisions of the Past

James O’Connor wasn’t a man who lost his composure not in boardrooms, not in battles, not in life. But right now, he stood frozen in the middle of the grand atrium of O’Connor Tower, the applause from the ribbon-cutting ceremony dying in his ears like white noise.

Melinda Holt.

Six years ago, she had been nothing more than a memory stitched into a night of shadows and silk. A night that haunted his dreams for years after burned into his senses like a brand. Her scent, that soft jasmine and amber mix, had lingered in his thoughts long after he told himself to forget.

But now she was here. In the flesh.

And those weren’t just her eyes staring at him from across the room.

Two pairs of them.

Blue and hazel-green.

One wide with curiosity. The other narrowed in protective suspicion.

James’s chest tightened.

He didn’t remember moving, but suddenly he was in front of them Melinda standing stiff, regal in her heels, the twins pressed to either side of her. She had that same grace he remembered from that night. But the girl he’d known then was gone. This woman was steel wrapped in velvet.

“Melinda,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

Her name on his tongue felt like a betrayal to his own pride.

Melinda’s fingers curled protectively around Elena’s shoulder. “Mr. O’Connor,” she said evenly, as though they were nothing more than polite acquaintances. Her eyes dared him to say more.

James tilted his head, ignoring the flashes of cameras, the board members lingering nearby. “You have something that belongs to me.”

Melinda’s jaw clenched, but her smile didn’t falter. “Excuse me?”

“Elijah and Elena,” he said, nodding toward the twins. “They’re mine.”

Gasps followed. Several heads turned. But Melinda didn’t waver.

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed, stepping closer so only he could hear. “You don’t get to claim them just because you saw their faces and did the math.”

James’s eyes were pure frost. “I want answers. Now.”

“Then make an appointment like the rest of the world. I’m busy.” She turned to leave, gathering the twins.

But Elijah looked up. “Is that man our dad?”

Melinda’s steps faltered.

James swallowed hard. He bent slightly, kneeling to meet Elijah’s eyes. “What makes you ask that?”

“You have the same eyes,” Elijah said simply. “And the same angry face when you're confused.”

James’s lips twitched. Elena reached for her mother’s hand, tugging it gently.

Melinda looked down at them both, her armor cracking for just a second. Then she straightened and turned back to James.

“Come to my house tonight,” she said coldly. “After they’re asleep. We’ll talk. Alone.”

That night, James stood in front of the gated Spanish-style villa tucked into the Beverly Hills hillsides. Twin Angels Architects had done well very well, if the security system and manicured hedges were any indicator.

Melinda opened the door before he knocked. She wore black leggings and a cream silk blouse, her hair tied loosely back. Her eyes were tired. Guarded. Beautiful.

“Come in,” she said, stepping aside.

The inside was warm scattered toys, a faint scent of lavender, and architectural sketches hanging like art on the walls.

“They’re asleep?” he asked.

She nodded. “No eavesdropping. Elena tried to fake a fever to stay up.”

He almost smiled.

Almost.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing toward the sofa. “Let’s talk.”

James remained standing. “You should’ve told me, Melinda.”

“I didn’t owe you anything,” she snapped. “We didn’t exchange last names. That night was anonymous. That was the point.”

James’s voice hardened. “But it didn’t stay anonymous, did it? You knew who I was. And you still said nothing.”

Melinda moved toward the fireplace, folding her arms across her chest. “I found out months later. By then, I was pregnant and... terrified. You’re a billionaire, James. I didn’t know how you’d react.”

“You thought I’d deny them?”

“I thought you’d take them.”

Silence.

Raw. Crackling.

James exhaled. “I would never do that.”

She met his eyes. “Wouldn’t you? You don’t know me. You don’t know the life I built. The hell I went through. You would’ve walked in and turned it upside down.”

James stepped forward, his voice low and sharp. “I had a right to know.”

“And I had a right to protect them.”

His gaze burned. “You think keeping them from me was protection?”

“Yes,” she said, breath catching. “Because I’ve seen what powerful men do when they want control.”

That hit him harder than it should have.

He raked a hand through his hair. “They’re my children. I want to be in their lives.”

Melinda watched him, expression unreadable. Then she turned and walked toward the kitchen. She poured two glasses of water, set one on the table, and leaned against the counter.

“You can be in their lives,” she said finally. “But on my terms.”

James lifted a brow. “Terms?”

Her eyes didn’t flinch. “You’ll have supervised visits at first. I don’t want them confused or overwhelmed. You’ll spend time with them here.”

“And what do I tell them?” he challenged. “That I’m just some guy who keeps stopping by?”

“Tell them you’re a... friend,” she said softly. “For now.”

James stared at her for a long time, then nodded slowly.

“Fine. But Melinda…” His voice softened, unexpectedly. “This isn’t over.”

She stiffened. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” he said, taking a step closer. “It’s a promise.”

Their eyes locked. Old memories crashed against the present.

The tension between them wasn’t just resentment it was heat, pulsing and sharp. Undeniable.

She looked away first.

“I’ll tell them tomorrow,” she whispered.

James nodded. “And after that… we’ll figure it out.”

As he walked to the door, her voice stopped him.

“James.”

He turned.

She was silhouetted in the soft hallway light, arms still folded, but her eyes vulnerable for the first time.

“Don’t hurt them,” she said. “And don’t make me regret this.”

James’s voice was like gravel. “I never wanted to hurt any of you.”

And then he was gone.

But neither of them slept that night.

Because for the first time in six years, the truth had come home.