جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 80

​I shifted my gaze to Scarlet who stood frozen beside the audio console, her hands hovering helplessly over the sliders, her face completely drained of color. She was entirely out of her depth, utterly incapable of managing a crowd that had completely cast aside its manners. I dragged my eyes away from her and turned to Ian, who was standing taller with controlled breathing, knowing he was the only one here who retained a shred of authority. ​"Tell us!" someone from the back yelled, pushing past a waiter holding a tray of empty glasses. "Tell us the truth right now because we have a right to know!" ​I didn't wait for another shout. I strode across the distance separating us, stopping inches from where Lora hovered protectively over her child. I reached down, my fingers gently brushing against Cara’s small, shaking arm to anchor her, while my eyes remained locked onto Lora’s frantic face. ​"What do you think you're doing, Carson?" she hissed under her breath, pulling the microphone

​Carson scooped Cara up from the velvet sofa, his muscles shifting under his shirt as he carried her into the bedroom. I tracked his movements through the narrow sliver of the doorway. He reached for two plush pillows, placing them carefully on either side of the sleeping child to wall her in safely. Then he pulled a heavy white duvet up to her chin, watching as she instinctively curled tighter around the teddy bear he had gifted her earlier.​A sharp stab of pain shot up my right leg when I shifted my weight, reminding me of the clumsy twist my ankle had taken amid escaping from the press and other guests. My jaw tightened into a bitter grimace. The vicious pack of reporters back at the venue had made my skin crawl. Why on earth were they so obsessed with tracing Cara's lineage, digging their claws into the truth of who my daughter's father was just to feed their morning headlines?​The soft click of the bedroom door sliding shut echoed in the quiet space. Carson turned around, his f

Before the morning light could settle fully over the polished surface of the dining table in Carson’s apartment, he unbuckled the strap behind his waist and let the fabric of his dark apron slip from his shoulders. The sudden movement drew my gaze before I could stop myself. Time and distance had done nothing to soften the lean, disciplined contours of his frame. He had never been the type to spend hours surrounded by iron weights and gym mirrors, yet his body retained an effortless athletic grace, every posture quiet with grounded strength.​Catching the shift in my own expression before his eyes could lock onto mine, I yanked my attention sideways, fixing my gaze on the small, quiet shape of Cara sitting in her chair. Still, from the peripheral edge of my vision, the blurred reality of him remained vivid. He pulled a plain white t-shirt over his head, the clean cotton stretching taut across his chest and biting tight against the heavy curve of his biceps as his arms worked through t

Ever since that evening when the text message arrived detailing his mother’s declining health behind prison walls, a heavy shadow had settled over Carson. He attempted to mask his sorrow behind quiet smiles and gentle humor, burying his grief whenever he was in our presence, particularly around Cara. The two of them spent hours playing in the open courtyard, their laughter echoing off the concrete walls. It was the precise scenario I had dreaded most. Even though my sprained ankle had long since healed, we remained in his apartment complex, extending our stay by three additional days simply because I could not bring myself to sever the fragile bond forming between them. They had grown remarkably close, sharing an easy camaraderie that felt both comforting and deeply disturbing.​The midday sun beat down upon the apartment complex’s recreational area, where three separate swimming pools glittered under the clear sky. The lower two pools overflowed with noisy residents seeking relief fr

The broad expanse of his back was all that offered itself to my sight as he carried Cara away, her tiny fingers digging into his bare shoulders. Her tear-streaked eyes caught mine over his shoulder, brimmed with a heavy, unspoken sense of betrayal. Before I could even cross the distance to step into the elevator, the metal doors glided shut with an uncompromising, mechanical hiss, sealing the two of them inside and leaving me alone in the sterile hallway.​Of all the things Cara could have asked for, of all the innocent wishes a child could whisper to the world, she had chosen Carson to be her father. The sheer weight of that realization pressed heavily against my chest, making every breath feel like inhaling crushed glass. Damn it all! This was entirely my fault, a catastrophic miscalculation born from my own hubris. If I had never allowed my hand to hesitate, if I had never extended that invitation to Carson for Cara’s birthday party in the first place, I would not be carrying this