Chapter 50
Killian Volkov
I watched the car disappear down the driveway, with Adeline and the kids away from the pack, and felt a heaviness settle in my chest. Bridget had somehow managed to push herself into my heart and was gone. It was absurd how quickly she’d become important to me, how much I’d started to care about her without even realizing it.
It’s been two since they left. The mansion felt emptier now, quieter in a way that made the silence almost unbearable.
I tried to push the feeling aside as I walked to my study, but the weight in my chest wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard I tried to focus on anything else, my mind kept drifting back to Bridget.
I wondered what she was doing, if she was missing me too.
A knot formed in my chest as I pulled open the drawer of my desk. Inside was a small, plain wooden box that I hadn’t opened for days. My fingers brushed over the lid before I lifted it, revealing the things inside. I carefully picked up a small pink hair bow ribbon clip and felt a small smile tug at my lips. It belonged to Bridget, something she had left behind when I left her at that hospital when I first met her.
“I miss you, little one,” I murmured to myself, holding it a moment longer before placing it back in the box.
But as I did, my eyes caught on something else inside–Adeline’s ring. The one I had given her when we were married, the one she used to wear every day. A flood of memories crashed into me, unbidden and unwanted.
I could see her face, the anger, the pain, the tears and the fire in her eyes as we had an argument the night before she left with the kids. The memory of her slapping me–the sting still fresh in my mind–only fueled the rage simmering within
- me.
My grip tightened around the ring before I forced myself to place it back inside the box. I shut the drawer with a sharp snap, trying to bury those emotions deep where they couldn’t reach me. But the memories lingered, refusing to be locked away as easily as that ring
Just then, a knock on the door broke through my thoughts. I quickly masked my expression into one of indifference, not wanting anyone to see the anger burning inside me.
“Come in,” I called out, my voice rougher than I intended.
Grandpa walked in, his presence immediately filling the room with a sense of authority and calm. He took one look at me and seemed to know exactly what was going on in my head.
“You look like hell. He commented. “You miss her, don’t you? The little one.”
1 clenched my jaw, unwilling to admit how much Bridget’s absence was affecting me. But there was no hiding anything from Grandpa. I nodded curtly, not trusting myself to say more
He walked over to the desk. his gaze thoughtful as he looked at me. “You know, Killian, I couldn’t help but notice something while they were here.” He said. “That little girl, Bridget, and even Tristan… they look just like you.”
His words caught me off guard, and I could feel my defenses rising. “What are you talking about?” I snapped, dismissing his observation with a wave of my hand
Grandpa didn’t back down, his eyes narrowing slightly as he continued. “Tristan is the exact image of you at that age. And Bridget.. She’s a mix of you and Adeline. It’s clear as day if you just look.
Anger flared up inside me at his words, at the mere suggestion that those children could be mine. “Enough,” I growled, my voice cold and hard. “You’re imagining things. I don’t want to hear another word about it. They look like Adeline,” I said
“And Sebastian
1/3
14:57 Wed, Dec 11 GL5
Chapter 50
He frowned, clearly not buying it. “You really think that? You really believe Adeline would have done that to you!”
Π
My blood boiled, anger flaring at the suggestion. “I don’t think so, Grandpa. I know. I saw them. I saw her with Sebastian when she was still married to me–her stepping out of his car now she has the nerve to come back here with him and their kids as if I don’t know what happened.”
Grandpa shook his head, a mix of pity and frustration in his eyes. “Killian, you’re letting your anger blind you. Sometimes, what we see isn’t the whole truth.”
I snapped, standing up so quickly that the chair nearly toppled over. “Don’t, Grandpa. Don’t try to make me doubt what I know. She had an affair with him when we were still married, and Bridget and Tristan are his and if they are not, then I was right about her.
Grandpa stayed seated, his calm demeanor only fueling my anger. “And what if you’re wrong? What if there’s more to the story than you know?”
His words hit like a punch to the gut, but I shoved them aside, refusing to let them take root. “I’m not wrong,” I bit out, my voice icy.
The room was thick with tension, and the air crackled with unresolved emotions. Grandpa looked at me for a long moment, then sighed deeply. “Just… think about it, Killian. For your sake and for theirs,”
He stood up, leaving me alone with my thoughts. As the door clicked shut behind him, I sat back down, my hands shaking with barely contained fury.
Think about it.
No.
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t
The truth was what it was, and nothing could change that
But as I stared down at the drawer, a cold sliver of doubt tried to worm its way in. I crushed it, burying it under the weight of my anger, I wouldn’t let myself go down that path. I couldn’t afford to.
But as 1 turned away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was locking away something else too–something I wasn’t ready to
face
Something that, no matter how hard I tried, would find its way back to me.
I clenched my fists, breathing heavily, trying to steady the storm inside me. But the storm didn’t want to settle, It wanted to rage, to tear everything apart until there was nothing left but the truth–the truth I wasn’t ready to admit.
And then, like a flash of lightning, a new thought pierced through the anger.
What if Grandpa was right?
What if Bridget and Tristan are my children?
2/3
