flash
The rain began to hammer relentlessly against the glass of our North Side apartment, mirroring the chaotic storm inside my chest. After tucking Ethan, Sophie, and Lucas into bed—each of them clinging to their stuffed animals with an unsettling, quiet fear—I sat down at my kitchen island. / Chapter 6 / 8

Chapter 6 - THE PATERNITY REVELATION AND THE TRAP

The next morning, at 9:00 AM, a private medical team arrived at my sister’s house in Evanston.

The triplets were curious. Ethan held his arm out bravely for the cheek swab, while Sophie observed the nurse with intense suspicion. Lucas was busy drawing a picture of a giant superhero punching a monster—a drawing that bore an uncanny resemblance to the events at the restaurant.

Sebastian sat on the porch outside, refusing to step inside out of respect for my boundaries. He wore simple jeans and a dark sweater—no suit, no bodyguards, no corporate armor.

I walked out onto the porch, handing him a mug of black coffee.

"Thank you," he said quietly, taking the cup. His hands were pale, his knuckles white.

"They asked about you this morning," I said, leaning against the wooden railing, watching the rain trickle off the roof.

Sebastian looked up instantly, hope flashing in his eyes. "What did they say?"

"Sophie asked if you were the angry man from the restaurant," I answered honestly. "Ethan said he wanted to make sure you wouldn't make me cry again."

Sebastian bowed his head, letting out a ragged sigh. "I deserve that. I deserve every bit of their anger. Hannah... I spent five years feeling like half a man. After the accident, when I woke up from the coma and my mother told me you were gone... I felt like my soul had been ripped out. I drowned myself in work because it was the only thing that numb the pain."

"You should have looked harder, Sebastian," I said softly, my voice devoid of malice, carrying only sad truth. "If you really believed in our love, you would have searched the ends of the earth. You wouldn't have accepted a simple story from your mother."

"I know," he choked out. "And that is a failure I will carry to my grave."

Just then, my phone chimed with an alert. It was a news notification from the Chicago Tribune.

BREAKING NEWS: ARREST WARRANT ISSUED FOR OLIVIA BENNETT IN $12M CORPORATE EMBEZZLEMENT SCHEME; FORMER CARTER GLOBAL HEIRESS FLEES STATE.

I held the screen out for Sebastian to see.

He glanced at it, his jaw tightening. "She realized her family’s shares were being frozen. She’s trying to liquidate her accounts and run to Switzerland."

"She won't get far," I said.

Suddenly, Sebastian’s phone rang. It was an private, unlisted emergency line. He put it on speaker.

"Sebastian..." Olivia’s frantic, erratic voice came through the speaker, wind howling in the background. "You think you’ve won? You think you can just throw me away for that peasant and her bastard children?!"

"Where are you, Olivia?" Sebastian growled. "Turn yourself in. It’s over."

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The burner phone in my hand felt heavy, like a slab of cold iron pulled from a sunken ship. Across the line, Marcus let out a breath that sounded like a low whistle escaping a pressure valve. Nineteen years of rust, nineteen years of school plays, quiet dinners, and ledger sheets—all of it dissolved in the space of a single heartbeat.

The burner phone in my hand felt heavy, like a slab of cold iron pulled...

The man in the back of the Bentley was not a stranger, though it took me three agonizing seconds to place the face behind the silver-trimmed beard. Arthur Vance. The reclusive billionaire shipping tycoon, corporate sniper, and my father’s oldest, most estranged rival.

The man in the back of the Bentley was not a stranger, though it took me...

The ink on the medical schedule wasn't standard printer black. It was darker, heavier, pressed down with the kind of deliberate malice that only a fountain pen could deliver. I stared at the signature at the bottom of the page, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

The ink on the medical schedule wasn't standard printer black. It was da...

"It’s not over!" she screamed hysterically. "I’m at the West Loop distribution facility for Little Harvest Kitchen. Do you know what’s inside these industrial gas lines, Sebastian? One spark, and your ex-wife’s little dream company turns into a pile of ash! Tell her to drop the charges, or I burn it all to the ground!"

My heart stopped. Clara and twelve of my night-shift workers were inside that facility right now, preparing the morning school breakfast deliveries!

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