Chapter 5

Draven's POV

I rotated the glass of whiskey between my fingers, watching the amber liquid swirl against the clear glass. The office was dead silent, but my mind remained a chaotic mess.

Vivienne.

For five long years, I lived with the belief that she walked away because she couldn't handle who I was. I thought she took one look at my world, saw the blood on my hands, panicked, and fled the city like a frightened animal. I hated her for it. I hated the fact that she made me feel something real, only to throw it in my face and vanish without a single trace.

When I saw her today, broken, weeping, and begging on her knees in that sterile hospital room, everything I’d believed changed instantly.

A child.

My private investigator had already sent a preliminary file to my laptop an hour ago, but the screen was practically blank. Vivienne had vanished off the grid entirely after leaving five years ago. No tax records, no fixed address, no employment history, no paper trail. It was as if she had dissolved into thin air the moment she stepped out of my life.

Five years.

That was roughly the exact amount of time that had passed since she disappeared from my bed.

The math was screaming at me. Every instinct I possessed as the heir to the most feared mafia empire told me that the timing was far too clean to be a coincidence. I wanted a DNA test. I wanted the cold, undeniable truth stamped on a piece of paper in black and white. I wanted to know if that small boy lying under those heavy hospital blankets carried my blood in his veins.

But the chief specialist I flew in earlier had been very clear when we spoke in the hallway. The boy's body was dangerously weak. His immune system was compromised, his lungs were struggling, and any extra stress, unnecessary procedure, or disruption could trigger a fatal relapse. I was a ruthless man; a killer when I needed to be, but I wasn't going to risk a sick child's life just to satisfy my suspicion.

Not yet.

A soft knock at the door broke through my thoughts.

"Enter," I said, setting the whiskey glass down onto the hard surface of my desk.

The door opened, and Vivienne stepped inside. She still looked the same as five years ago, the only difference? She looked exhausted. Her usually voluminous brown hair was packed in a low messy bun, and her hazel eyes weren’t as bright as they used to. She stood near the entryway, holding her hands tightly in front of her waist as if she were trying to physically keep herself from falling apart. She had changed out of her hospital clothes, but her skin was still pale, and dark shadows bruised the delicate skin beneath her eyes.

"Draven," she said softly. Her voice was small, barely carrying across the room. "The hospital confirmed... the bills have been cleared. The medical team arrived an hour ago to begin Theo's care."

"I keep my word, Vivienne," I said, leaning back in my leather chair and folding my arms over my chest. "He will have the best care money can buy. No expense spared."

She swallowed hard as she took two cautious steps forward into the room. "Thank you. I... I came to ask what you want me to do now. To pay you back."

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the desk, keeping my expression completely blank. I kept my voice flat and unbothered. "How old is he?"

Vivienne froze on the spot. Her breath hitched in her throat, a faint flicker of panic darting across her eyes before she quickly smoothed her expression over. It lasted less than a second, but I didn't miss it. I caught every single detail.

"He's four," she said, her voice steadying just a little too late. "He turns five next year."

Four.

I stared at her in silence, taking in the subtle rise and fall of her chest and the way her fingers twitched nervously against her shirt. She was lying to me. I had conducted enough brutal interrogations in my lifetime to recognize the quiet, hesitant rhythm of a calculated lie.

If the boy was four, the timeline didn't fit. It meant she had fallen pregnant long after she ran away from me, with another man. But if he was five... if he was five, then she had carried my child out of this city five years ago and hidden him from me every single day since.

I didn't push her. I didn't call out the lie. Pushing her right now would only make her retreat further into her shell, and she had already proven how good she was at running away. I needed her close. I needed my men to investigate her disappearance properly, tear down whatever fake paper trail she had built over the years, and uncover what really happened on the night she fled. And the only way to get my answers was to tie her directly to my side, where I could watch her every move.

I reached down into my desk drawer, pulled out a thick leather folder, and slid the contract across the surface of my desk until it rested right in front of her.

Vivienne looked down at the folder, her brows knitting together in confusion. "What is this?"

"Your repayment terms," I replied simply.

She stepped up to the desk, her trembling fingers reaching out to pick up the document. She flipped the folder open and began scanning the typed lines. I watched her face carefully as she read. With every line her eyes passed over, the remaining color drained from her cheeks until she was completely ghostly pale. Her shock quickly turned into unfiltered fury, her hands shaking as she gripped the edges of the paper so hard they wrinkled under her fingers.

"Five million dollars?!" she shouted, her voice trembling with sheer disbelief as she stared down at the final number printed on the page. "My club debt, the hospital bills, interest, the specialist fees... you added everything together! This is insane, Draven! How do you expect me to ever pay this back in my entire lifetime?"

I didn't answer right away. I stood up slowly from my chair, my back blocking the little sunlight that seeped through the window, casting a long shadow over her as I rounded the desk. I stopped right in front of her, closing the distance between us until she had to tilt her head back just to look me in the eye.

I looked directly into her eyes, my voice calm, "You wanted me to pay for your son's treatment, right? Be my kept woman.”