Chapter 250
Cailin shivered, holding Elia against her. She looked up at Hilliard.
He was staring at the children with an expression she had never seen on his face before — something raw and undone, as though he were fighting the urge to drop to his knees.
“Cailin,” he said, his voice rough. “We need to talk.”
“Not here,” Cailin said, rising on unsteady legs. She was shaking — cold, adrenaline-drained, barely holding together. “Not like this.”
“Where, then?”
“The Four Seasons,” Cailin said, the plan Kegan had briefed her on clicking into place. It felt insane. It was also their only viable move. “Tonight. Eight o’clock. We negotiate.”
“Negotiate?” Hilliard looked wounded. “This isn’t a business deal.”
“With your family?” Cailin let out a short, bitter laugh. “Everything is a business deal.”
The safe house smelled of wet concrete and ozone. The sprinklers had finally cut off, leaving behind a dripping, sodden mess.
Hilliard stood in the center of the living room, water pooling around his expensive Italian loafers. He didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were fixed on the three small figures standing by the kitchen island.
“I need to get them dried off,” Cailin said, breaking the silence. She guided the children toward the stairs. “Go up with Ashley. Change into dry clothes.”
“I’m not going anywhere with him here,” Aron said, crossing his arms. He was soaking wet, his hair plastered to his forehead, looking so much like a miniature, furious Hilliard that it made Cailin’s chest ache.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Hilliard said softly. He took a step forward and crouched to bring himself to eye level. “I’m — I’m Hilliard.”
“We know who you are,” Davy said, stepping in front of Elia. “You’re the sperm donor.”
Hilliard flinched. “I suppose that’s technically true. But I’d like to be more than that.”
“You’re the Bad Man,” Elia whispered, peeking out from behind Davy’s shoulder. “You made Mommy cry.”
Hilliard looked at Cailin. Elia’s words landed like a blade between his ribs.
“I never wanted to make her cry,” he said, looking back at Elia. “I made mistakes. Very big ones.”
“Upstairs,” Cailin said, her voice firm. “Now.”
The children turned and marched reluctantly toward the stairs, their wet sneakers squeaking on the metal treads. Ashley followed, shooting Hilliard a look that could have stripped paint from the walls.
When they were gone, the silence that settled was heavy.
“They hate me,” Hilliard murmured, straightening.
“They protect me,” Cailin said. “There’s a difference.”
“Cailin.” He dragged a hand through his wet hair. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me? Five years — I missed their first steps. Their first words.”
“You were busy,” Cailin said, her voice flat and cold. “With Charla.”
“I never loved her!” The frustration finally broke the surface. “I was a coward. I was doing what was expected of me. But I never stopped looking for you. I never stopped loving you.”