I shook my head violently. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he said, voice firm, cutting through the chaos. “I swear to you. I am not your father. And Micah is not your brother.”
The words hit like oxygen.
I sucked in a breath so sharp it burned.
Victoria sighed, annoyed. “For God’s sake, Byron, I told you this would be messy.”
My head snapped up. “Then tell me,” I demanded. “Tell me right now.”
She looked at me for a long moment. Then, reluctantly, she nodded. “He is not.”
My knees nearly gave out again—but this time from relief.
Micah pulled me closer, his forehead pressing to my temple. I could feel his heart hammering, just as frantic as mine.
“Joy,” he murmured, low and urgent. “Look at me.”
I did.
His eyes were dark, fierce, terrified. But steady. Still mine.
“I would never touch you if there was even a chance,” he said. “Never.”
“I know,” I whispered, tears finally spilling over. “I know.”
My body sagged against him as the worst of the nausea passed, leaving me shaky and hollow. I wiped at my face with the back of my hand, anger flaring suddenly through the fear.
“So, if he’s not,” I said, turning back to Victoria, “then who is?”
Victoria’s gaze flicked away. “That’s not relevant.”
“It is to me,” I snapped. “You don’t get to drop something like this and then decide what I’m allowed to know.”
Byron exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Joy … I was away when she got pregnant. Out of the country.”
Victoria shot him a sharp look. “You don’t get to explain my life for me.”
“I remember it all, though,” Byron said quietly, ignoring her.
My heart pounded. “You knew.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t?—”
“I didn’t know it was you,” he said immediately. “I didn’t know where you ended up. I didn’t even know if the baby survived.”
That word—baby—hit differently now.
Victoria’s shoulders slumped slightly, something brittle cracking in her posture. For the first time, she looked … tired.
“I didn’t want to give you up,” she said abruptly.
The words landed hard.
I stared at her. “What?”
