“My sister was violated,” he cut in.
The words hit harder than anything he’d said before.
“Repeatedly.” His jaw clenched. “By her own father. And by yours.”
I froze.
“She got pregnant because of it,” he continued, his voice dropping further, quieter—but heavier. “I know what that does to someone.”
His eyes locked onto mine.
Not accusing. Not entirely.
But searching.
“I lived through the aftermath with her,” he continued. “Through every fragment of the pain.”
A pause.
“I would have understood if you’d been in a similar situation. It wouldn’t have made me hate you any more.”
Something in my chest cracked at that.
“But why claim the child you’re carrying is mine?” he said, voice cutting sharp. “Why would you try to make me accept the child of someone who wronged you?”
My throat closed.
Air felt suddenly harder to pull in.
“You just held me like I matter, like you believe me and are ready to accept the pregnancy—despite saying before that you didn’t want me to carry your child.”
“What changed between a few seconds ago and now, after you took that call?”
“The only man I’ve ever been with is you, and this pregnancy is yours,” I said, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. “I have no reason to lie, but I’m still curious—why the sudden change?”
“Violet called.”
The name cut through everything again.
He dragged a hand down his face, fingers pressing hard like he was trying to ground himself.
“She was crying,” he said, voice duller now. Tired. “Begging me to spare her father’s life.”
Of course she was.
“She said Matteo confessed to her... about what he did to you while you were in his custody. Even though you just claimed you were never violated during those four weeks.
Each word landed like a blow.
A lie.
A calculated, filthy lie.
I opened my mouth—
But he wasn’t finished.
He wasn’t even really looking at me anymore.
