MasukThe next day, Regan was still not coming home, and the day stretched before me. By the time I woke, the day had reached its peak. As the afternoon sun cast its golden rays through the window, a notification buzzed on my phone. Pulling it out of my pocket, I glanced at the screen. It was a text from Gerard. His message was simple – a request to meet.
Despite the fatigue that weighed me down, and the nausea churning in my stomach, I knew I couldn't ignore him. With a deep breath, I pushed myself off the couch. Moving on autopilot, I made my way to my room. The reflection in the mirror startled me. My usually bright green eyes were dull and shadowed. Choosing a red maxi dress, I slipped it on. The long sleeves offered a welcome layer of comfort, hiding the fading bruise blooming on my arm. The one I received from where Regan shoved me in a staff room. The red color felt like a shield, a way to mask the vulnerability I still felt.
Reachi
I sat there aimlessly twirling the straw of my milkshake, watching the chocolate swirl into lighter shades. My mind wasn’t even in the café—it was still stuck in the mall, replaying everything on a loop.“Hey,” Ava said gently. “Are you okay?”“Yeah… yeah… just thinking about something,” I muttered, though even I didn’t sound convinced.Sheila’s eyes narrowed immediately. Ava leaned forward, elbows on the table, studying me like she already knew I was lying. We’d planned this girls’ day—just the three of us—since Phoenix was with Alex right now. It was supposed to be fun.Instead, I felt like I was about to throw up.“So,” Sheila said slowly, “are you going to tell us why you look like you’re completely out of place today?”I exhaled shakily. “I’m just thinking… that maybe we need to go back to Australia.”Both of them straightened instantly.“What? Why?” Ava asked. “Atticus is enjoying his time here. Is there a problem?”I swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. Regan.”Ava’s ja
Anastasia’s POVThe mall was crowded but Atticus didn’t seem to mind. He sat on the bench beside me, happily eating his ice cream while watching Alaric. His legs swung back and forth, humming a tune only he knew, completely content.I was just about to remind him not to drip ice cream on his shirt when my entire body went cold.Regan.He was walking down the opposite aisle, casual and devastating without even trying. A soft gray shirt, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, dark jeans, and white sneakers—simple, laid‑back, but somehow, he still looked like he stepped out of a magazine. His hair was slightly tousled, his jaw clean‑shaven, and the confidence in his stride made him stand out even in a crowd.Reid was beside him, holding his father’s hand, pointing excitedly at something in a store window.I was just about to hide when Reid saw me.His whole face lit up. “Auntie Anastasia!”Regan’s head snapped towards my direction. My heart lurched violently. Panic shot through me so fast I
By the time we reached the penthouse, Reid was still asleep, his head heavy on my shoulder. The elevator chimed open and Regan was already there, waiting with worry etched into every line of his face.“Rei?” His voice softened instantly when he saw Reid. “Give him to me.”I nodded and carefully transferred Reid into his arms. Regan held his son like he was made of glass, one hand supporting his back, the other brushing a gentle thumb across his cheek. Reid didn’t stir—just nuzzled closer into his father’s chest.Regan glanced at me as he started toward the hallway. “How was both of your day?”I forced a small smile. “He enjoyed. A lot. He had fun. We…we had fun”Regan’s expression eased, the tension in his shoulders loosening. “Good. He needs that.”He disappeared into Reid’s room, the door closing quietly behind him, my chest tightening.When he returned, I didn’t say a word. I walked straight to the bar, grabbed a bottle, and poured myself a drink with hands that weren’t as steady a
A bitter laugh escaped me. “You really think you were the only one keeping secrets?”He didn’t respond, but something flickered behind his eyes.“My brother went crazy trying to find them,” I said, swallowing hard as the memories surged. “He knew Anastasia was pregnant when she left. He found out. And he searched everywhere. Begged anyone who could help. Begged anyone… even the Montreals, even when all he got in return were bruises and broken bones.”My lips trembled. I could still hear Regan’s voice—hoarse, desperate, breaking every time he said her name.“But Don Alonso and your father stopped him,” I whispered, voice cracking. “I don’t know what they told him, what they threatened him with, but whatever it was… it destroyed him.”For a moment….just a moment Alaric’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face before his expression hardened again.“Regan deserved it,” he said flatly. “You all did.”The words sliced through me. I turned away, blinking fast, but the tears came
I didn’t back down. I stepped in closer, my voice low and steady, my eyes locked on him.“Whose. Son. Is. Atticus.”Alaric exhaled sharply, frustration bleeding through the cracks. “He’s Anastasia’s.”Even though I’d suspected it—felt it in my bones—the confirmation still hit like a punch to the chest. My heart dropped. Tears gathered instantly, blurring my vision. I forced myself to look away from his piercing stare, taking five slow, shaky breaths just to keep myself standing.When I finally faced him again, my fists were clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. “And… and Regan’s.”He paused. His expression cooled even further, if that was possible. “Regan’s name isn’t on anything.”“Biologically,” I whispered.“No.”The sharpness of his tone made me flinch, but it also lit something stubborn and furious inside me.“You’re actually standing here,” I said, voice trembling with anger, “in front of me, denying the
Alaric jerked his arm out of my grip, irritation flashing across his face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Now that I was away from the kids, everything I’d been trying to suppress came crashing into me all at once.Atticus’s face. Those eyes. That smile. He looked like Anastasia. And like my brother. A perfect blend, too perfect to be coincidence.And Alaric was with the boy. Which meant there was a seventy‑five percent chance—no, more—that Atticus was connected to the Saavedra family. And if I wasn’t mistaken, none of the Saavedra siblings had children. None were married. None were even rumored to be close.And Atticus looked six. Six years old…. which lined up with the exact time when—“Reila.”Alaric’s voice snapped like a whip, slicing through my spiraling thoughts. I blinked, breath catching.He stepped closer, jaw tight. “If you drag me away like that again, I won’t be polite about it.”I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe, to thin







