Chapter 247
“You think you’re the hero?” she murmured, stepping into his space. She lowered her voice so that only he — and Cailin, standing close enough — could hear. “You think you’re saving a damsel? She’s been playing you for a fool for five years.”
“Get her out of here,” Hilliard said to the security guards.
“The boys?” Charla laughed softly. “Aron and Davy? Triplets, Hilliard. You have three. And you let her hide them from you like a dirty secret.”
“You will not use their names as a weapon,” Hilliard growled, his voice dropping to a low threat as he pushed her back. The shock wasn’t in the information — it was in the venom with which she delivered it, twisting his deepest wound into something aimed directly at Cailin.
“Oh, she already made them one,” Charla said, her eyes glittering. “She’s been hiding them in Europe. She probably laughed about it. Laughed that you were too blind to see what was right in front of you.”
Hilliard turned to Cailin.
The look on his face broke something in her. It wasn’t the flare of a new revelation — it was the devastation of a truth he had been trying to hold at arm’s length, now confirmed and hurled at him by his worst enemy.
“I know,” he said, barely above a whisper. A raw nerve laid bare. “I’ve known. But I need to hear it from you.”
Cailin opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She wanted to lie. She wanted to deny it. But the truth sat in her throat like a stone, choking her.
“Hilliard…” she started.
“Say it.” He stepped closer, his presence pressing in on her, his voice cracking under the weight of five years. “Look at me and tell me. Are they mine?”
“Yes,” Cailin whispered.
The word hung in the air, heavy and irreversible.
Hilliard closed his eyes. He drew a long, shuddering breath. When he opened them again, the devastation had been replaced by something fierce and absolute.
“We’re going to the hospital,” he said, taking hold of her wrist. “Now. A paternity test. I want it on paper.”
“No!” Cailin pulled against his grip. “You can’t just—”
“I can and I will,” Hilliard said, his jaw set. “You took five years. You don’t get to take another second.”
Before he could move her toward the exit, the elevator doors at the end of the hall chimed open.
Six men in dark suits walked out. They weren’t Hilliard’s security — they were bigger, older, harder.
“Mr. Holloway,” the lead man said, with a measured nod. “Mr. Amerigo Holloway sends his regards.”
“What is this?” Hilliard demanded, stepping instinctively in front of Cailin.
“A diversion,” Cailin said. Her stomach dropped. “He sent you here to keep us busy.”
“Mr. Amerigo is currently en route to the designated location near Teterboro,” the man said calmly. “He intends to take the children into protective custody.”
Cailin screamed. It was raw and animal. She didn’t think. She didn’t plan.
She drove her heel down hard onto Hilliard’s foot. He grunted, his grip loosening just enough. She wrenched her arm free and bolted for the fire stairs.
“Cailin!” Hilliard shouted.