He felt gratitude, of course. During their time together, there might have been a faint fondness, but he knew with absolute certainty that it was never love.

Back then, it wasn’t just that he refused to marry Liliana-he physically recoiled at the thought of touching her.

When he was a child, Andrew Everly would bring home a parade of women, sometimes pinning them down right in the living room after a few drinks, utterly shameless in his debauchery.

Witnessing those vile acts as a boy left Finnian with deep psychological scars, making him instinctively repulsed by physical intimacy.

But when he met Amara, the revulsion vanished. He wanted her with an intensity he couldn’t control. She was the only woman he had ever truly desired.

He wanted to pour all of this out to her, but Amara simply pried his fingers off her wrist. “Mr. Everly, please stop this. There is no future for us. Go be with Ms. Porter. She loves you deeply.”

“As long as you stay with her, you’ll be happy.”

Every word felt like glass tearing her throat on the way out, but she forced them out anyway. The moment she finished, she turned to walk away.

“Amara, stop!”

Finnian chased after her, blocking her path right at the cafe entrance.

Other patrons inside turned their heads, watching the scene unfold.

Amara glanced around, her jaw tightening in humiliation. “What else do you want?”

Aware of the stares, Finnian didn’t want to make a scene either. He grabbed her wrist again. “Let’s talk outside.”

He pulled her out of the cafe and down a secluded alleyway where no one could see them.

Once they stopped, Finnian pinned her with a burning gaze. “Amara, stop telling me to be with Liliana. You are the only one I love. You are the only one I want rammever giving up on you.”

But that wasn’t enough. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a chilling pitch. “You belong to me, Amara. And the child belongs to me too.”

His tone was devoid of its earlier frantic emotion, replaced by a cold, suffocating darkness.

It was a quietly spoken sentence, but it radiated an instinctual terror.

Amara brushed off the first half. As long as she refused to be with him, what could he do? Drag her to the altar in chains? She didn’t care about his possessive delusions.

But the second half sent alarm bells ringing violently in her head. What did he mean the child was his? Was he planning to fight her for legal custody once the baby was born?

Pure, unadulterated fury ignited in her chest. This was her baby. What right did he have to steal her child?

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “This baby is mine alone. You have no legal custody, and you never will.”

Legal custody? Did Amara really think he just wanted the child?

The baby was merely leverage. What he truly wanted was her.

If she stubbornly refused to be with him, he would just have to use the child to trap her. That was why he said it.

Finnian knew he was embracing his darkest, most depraved instincts in that moment. Hetore away the mask of a civilized gentleman fully revealing the monster beneath baring his fangs at the woman he loved.

He had never been a good man. He just bothered to pretend when he was around her. Now, the pretense was over.

“If I really intend to fight for legal custody, do you honestly think you stand a chance against me?” he murmured darkly.

As Finnian spoke, he leaned over her, planting his arms on either side of Amara. From a distance, it looked exactly as if they were locked in an intimate embrace.