Confession and Chaos Within

POV Sebastian

Standing face to face with that child felt exactly like taking a blow straight to the chest. The air vanished from my lungs, and every sound in the world around me fell completely silent.

Holding that red pencil and looking directly into those dark eyes was no coincidence. Those eyes, the shape of her forehead, the firm line of her chin... she was me. She was my own reflection staring back, wearing innocence that cut straight through me. Six years stolen, erased in less time than it takes to draw breath.

“Aitana...” My voice came out rough and raw, scraping against my throat while the storm raging inside my head threatened to tear every last shred of control apart. “Whose daughter is this?”

Aitana stepped sharply back, pressing the little girl tight against her breast as though shielding her from some monster. Her lips trembled and her face had gone deathly pale, yet her eyes burned with a fierce, primal will to protect. The woman who had stood tall and unyielding in the boardroom, defying both our families, now looked cornered and vulnerable.

“That is none of your concern, Sebastian”, she answered, her voice wavering yet fighting to sound steady as she moved another step toward the elevators. “She is my daughter. That is all you need to know.”

“Do not lie to me!” The roar tore out of me before I could rein it in, causing two employees rounding the corner to stop dead in their tracks.

I curled my hands into fists at my sides. One quick glance at the little girl’s startled expression forced me to swallow my rage in a single, hard gulp. I breathed deep, forcing myself to reclaim some measure of the composure I was known for, even while my blood felt as though it burned through my veins.

I stepped forward quickly and cut off their path to the elevators. “Inside my office. Now”, I ordered, speaking low and firm, holding her gaze without wavering.

“I am not going anywhere with you...”

“You either walk into my office voluntarily so we may discuss this in private”, I cut her off, my tone icy and absolute, “or I call building security and have every exit locked down until you give me an answer.”

Aitana pressed her teeth together, burning with helpless fury. She knew I was not making idle threats. Without speaking another word, she turned on her heel and walked straight toward my office.

The moment the solid walnut doors clicked shut and I slid the lock home, the air inside felt suddenly thick and suffocating. Aitana led the little girl to one of the leather armchairs in the waiting area, handed her a sketchbook and a pencil.

“Stay right here for a moment, my love. Mommy needs to speak with this gentleman near the desk”, she said in a soft, sweet whisper, doing her utmost to mask the terror shaking her voice.

She turned back to me and walked the short distance until she stood only inches from me. “What do you want, Sebastian? You have your company, you hold the debt to my family, and you have your perfect, arranged marriage to Adela Serrano. Leave us alone!”

The taste of bitter bile rose sharp in my throat hearing her speak that name.

“Do you honestly believe I care one whit about the Serrano contract at this moment?” I hissed, leaning in close so the child could not overhear. “Look me in the eyes and tell me to my face. Look at me and tell me that girl does not carry my blood.”

She drew a sharp, shaky breath. Her green eyes filled with tears she fought with desperate courage to hold back. Silence stretched out for five agonizing seconds that felt like an eternity, marked only by the thunderous, jagged beating of my own heart.

“She is six years old, Sebastian”, she whispered finally, the confession tearing from her throat like a stifled sob. “She was born nine months after that night in the hotel.”

The floor seemed to dissolve beneath my feet.

Even though my mind had already pieced the truth together in that corridor, hearing it spoken plainly from her lips was a shattering blow. Six years. An entire lifetime. Six years in which that little girl had grown, taken her first steps, learned to speak and laugh, all without me ever knowing she existed. Six years during which Aitana had deliberately stolen from me the most sacred right any father could ever know.

Guilt, rage, and a ferocious, overwhelming love collided inside my chest, tearing me apart. I gripped her gently by the arms, not to hurt her, but with the desperate need to hold fast to reality.

“You hid my daughter from me!” I breathed, my voice trembling with suppressed fury. “I searched for you like a man possessed! I moved heaven and earth to find you after that morning, and all the while you were hiding, raising my child as though I meant nothing to her. How could you do this to me?!”

“Because your name was Belmonte!” she flung back at me, planting both hands against my chest to push me away. “Your grandfather Leonidas and mine were tearing one another apart in every newspaper! If either family had learned I was carrying your child, they would have destroyed us! They would have taken her from me, and you would have been used as a pawn to blackmail your corporation! I was alone, Sebastian! I was terrified!”

Her words pierced me like needles. The image of a young, frightened Aitana carrying our child in secrecy and solitude to keep her safe wrenched a searing, hollow pain through the very core of me. Yet forgiveness did not come easily, not when six years of watching my daughter grow had been stolen from me.

I turned slowly and looked back toward the armchair.

The little girl watched us sideways, her small fingers gripping that red pencil tight. I saw more than just my own features there. There was a quiet grace and poise I recognized instantly. She was my daughter. The heiress to everything I had spent my life building.

I walked toward her with slow, careful steps. The fury that had threatened to tear the room apart dissolved the instant I sank down before her, bringing myself level with her height.

“What is your name?” I asked her, striving to keep my voice warm and steady, hiding the wild, trembling intensity coursing through my hands.

The little girl glanced up toward Aitana, seeking permission. Aitana nodded slowly from where she stood, brushing a traitorous tear away with the back of her hand.

“Selene”, the child answered clearly and calmly. “Selene Cortés.”

Selene Belmonte, my heart whispered to itself, feeling a strange, searing warmth spread through my chest.

“That is a beautiful name, Selene”, I told her, finding my first genuine smile in years. “Your mother and I have much to discuss regarding work... but I want you to know this. Starting today, no one in this building or anywhere else will ever hurt you.”

I lifted my gaze back to Aitana. She stood watching me, caught somewhere between terror and stunned amazement. I stood slowly, straightening to my full height, every inch the man who commanded an empire.

“You will not run again, Aitana”, I stated, my tone firm, absolute, and beyond negotiation. “You remain in this city. You accept the position within the restructuring, and you allow me to be part of Selene’s life, starting this very moment.”

“Sebastian, you cannot force me...”

“I can, and I will”, I cut her off, stepping close so only she could hear. “If you attempt to leave this city or hide my daughter from me again, I will bring the full resources of the Belmonte Group to bear and claim full legal custody. You know perfectly well I have the means to succeed.”

Aitana bit back a gasp of outrage, yet the unyielding purpose in my eyes told her this was no empty threat.

“The choice is yours”, I added, my voice dropping low and dangerous. “Either we do this together, under my terms... or I declare war upon anyone foolish enough to stand between my daughter and me. Your family included... and mine included as well.”