Page 18 of Sinful Obsession (Broken Vows #3)

I stared at the bracelet, its faint hum a mocking echo of my racing pulse. The child growing inside me, the child of a faceless monster, was now a secret I had to guard at all costs. But with Cassian’s eyes on me, and this device betraying my every heartbeat, how long could I keep it hidden?

Hours blurred into a tense vigil; I paced the bedroom, my mind a whirlwind of fear and calculation.

The pregnancy test’s red lines haunted me, a secret that could unravel everything if discovered.

When midnight finally cloaked the halls in darkness, I slipped out of the room, my bare feet silent on the cool marble floors.

The mansion breathed around me.

My heart pounded as I navigated the dim corridors, pausing at each corner to listen for footsteps.

If Cassian caught me now... the thought alone made my blood run cold. The bracelet on my wrist would summon his wrath in an instant—rage that wouldn’t stop with me, but would crush the fragile life growing inside me.”

He’d see it as betrayal, proof of my “guilt,” and whatever punishment he’d held back would crash down like a tidal wave.

I eased the library door open, the hinges whispering a faint protest, and slipped inside.

I retrieved the burner phone from its hiding spot in the hollowed-out book, my fingers trembling as I powered it on and dialed Ethan.

“Charlotte?” His voice was a lifeline, urgent.

“I did the test,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I sank into a shadowed armchair. “It’s positive. I’m pregnant.”

A sharp intake of breath on his end. “Oh, God. Okay, don’t panic. We’ll figure this out.”

“How?” I hissed, glancing at the door. “Ethan, this changes everything. I can’t stay here. When can you get me out?”

“I’m working on it,” he assured me, his tone steady but strained. “I promise, I’ll get you out as soon as I can. But I need to put a lot of things in place—contacts, safe routes, contingencies if Cassian tracks you. It’s not just about sneaking you away; it’s about keeping you hidden afterward.”

I pressed my free hand to my forehead, frustration bubbling up. “Give me a date, Ethan. Something to hold onto.”

“I can’t,” he said gently. “Not yet. If I rush this and it goes wrong... I won’t risk your life, or the baby’s. But trust me, it’ll be soon.”

The baby.

The word hung heavy, a reminder of the unknown horror behind it. But then Ethan shifted gears. “Before we go further, you need to do one thing: confirm if Cassian is really not the father.”

I blinked, staring at the phone as if he’d lost his mind.

“What? That doesn’t make sense. I just reconnected with him—there’s no way. I haven’t been with him since... well, since whatever happened in those lost years.”

“Medically, it’s possible to find out even before the baby’s born,” Ethan explained, his voice taking on a clinical edge.

“It’s called a prenatal paternity test. They can do it as early as eight weeks with a simple blood draw from you and a DNA sample from Cassian—like hair, saliva, anything.

It compares the fetal DNA in your bloodstream to his.

Non-invasive, safe for the baby. If the child is not him, we’ll know for sure, and it might give you leverage or peace of mind. ”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

Why suggest this now?

It felt like grasping at straws, but before I could press him, a loud crash echoed from the hallway—the unmistakable sound of a door being forced open.

Panic surged through me like ice water. I shoved the phone behind my back, tucking it into the waistband of my pants just as the library door burst inward.

Cassian stood there, his silhouette framed by the hall light, eyes scanning the room like a predator.

My breath caught, heart slamming against my ribs.

If he saw the phone—if he demanded to search me—the game was over.

He’d discover the calls, the pregnancy, Ethan’s involvement.

The bracelet would confirm my lies with its data, and his “punishment” would be swift and merciless, perhaps ending with me locked away forever, or worse.

“The doctor’s here,” he said flatly, his gaze lingering on me a beat too long.

I forced my voice steady, though my palms were slick with sweat. “This time of night? I told you, nothing’s wrong with me. I don’t need a doctor.”

“Come with me,” he commanded, turning on his heel without another word.

The door hung ajar behind him, and I exhaled shakily, sagging against the chair.

Thank God he hadn’t noticed—hadn’t demanded to see my hands or searched the room.

But the close call left me rattled, my mind racing with what-ifs.

Who summons a doctor in the dead of night? It reeked of control, of his unyielding grip tightening.

If the doctor ran tests and uncovered the pregnancy, I was as good as dead—exposed, vulnerable, at the mercy of Cassian’s rage over a child that wasn’t his.

Escaping seemed impossible; the estate was a fortress, guards at every gate, and now this bracelet tracking my every breath.

I had to play along, buy time until Ethan’s plan materialized.

Steeling myself, I stepped out and made my way to the living room, where soft lamplight illuminated a middle-aged man in a crisp white coat, seated on the leather sofa with a medical bag at his feet.

“Dr. Harlan,” Cassian said curtly, gesturing between us. “This is Charlotte. Charlotte, Dr. Harlan—he’s been with the family for years.”

The doctor rose, offering a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Charlotte. Mr. Cassian mentioned some concerns. How have you been feeling lately? Any headaches, fatigue, nausea?”

I perched on the edge of an armchair, forcing a casual shrug. “I’m fine, really. No issues.”

Cassian interjected from his spot by the window, arms crossed. “She’s been retching—saw it on the cameras. Acting dizzy, unsteady. Don’t deny it, Charlotte.”

“I’m not denying anything because it’s not true,” I snapped, meeting his gaze defiantly. “Maybe you’re seeing things.”

Dr. Harlan cleared his throat, pulling out a blood pressure cuff. “Let’s check a few basics. Roll up your sleeve, please.”

I complied reluctantly, the cuff tightening around my arm like a noose.

The pump hissed, pressure building, and I held my breath, suspense coiling in my gut.

What if it revealed something?

The bracelet hummed faintly, syncing with my elevated pulse. After a moment, the doctor nodded. “Blood pressure is 118 over 76—perfectly normal.”

Relief washed over me, easing the knot in my chest.

Next, he placed a thermometer under my tongue, the cool metal a stark contrast to my flushed skin.

The wait dragged, seconds ticking by as I avoided Cassian’s piercing stare. Beep. “Temperature’s 98.6—normal,” Dr. Harlan announced.

One more check: he shone a light into my eyes, asking me to follow his finger. My heart raced again, suspense thickening the air—would this expose the dizziness I’d hidden? But he lowered the light. “Pupil response is fine. No signs of neurological issues.”

“Nonetheless,” the doctor said, reaching for a syringe, “I’ll draw some blood for a full panel, just to be thorough. Mr. Cassian’s worried.”

“Good,” Cassian agreed, his tone brooking no argument.

I shot to my feet, backing away. “Hell no. I’m not doing any blood test.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed, suspicion etching deep lines on his face. “If you’re not hiding anything, what’s the problem? It’s just blood.”

I crossed my arms, defiance surging despite the storm raging inside me.

The last thing I needed was confirmation of the pregnancy before I could escape.

If he learned about the baby now, about it not being his... it would shatter any fragile trust, turning his “protection” into a cage I’d never leave. “I said no. I’m fine—your doctor just confirmed it.”

The doctor glanced between us, confusion furrowing his brow. He packed his bag awkwardly, murmuring, “If the patient refuses...”

Cassian waved him off with a frustrated sigh. “Go. I’ll handle it.”

Once the door clicked shut behind Dr. Harlan, Cassian turned to me, his voice a low command. “Sit.”

I sank back into the chair, forcing calm into my posture even as adrenaline surged through me, a tempest of fear.

“I’ve ordered my men at the gate to let you leave freely,” he said, surprising me.

My eyes widened. “Why the sudden change?”

He leaned against the mantel, his expression unreadable. “I have a better way to keep you protected now.” He nodded at the bracelet. “Being trapped here until your enemies are dealt with... it’s taking a toll on you. I see it. So go—anywhere you want. But I’ll be watching.”

I glanced at the silver band on my wrist, its hum a mocking whisper, then back at him. “Thank you,” I said softly, though suspicion lingered.

A heavy silence fell before I broke it. “When will you tell me how I supposedly killed your sister?”

“You didn’t kill her directly,” he said, his voice rough. “You were just the reason she died.”

“After I stopped stalking you to deal with her kidnapping, it took me forty-eight hours to track her down. I slaughtered every man holding her—she wasn’t harmed, not a scratch.

I planned to send her back abroad for safety, but she asked about you.

I told her you’d gone to another city for some space because our relationship was straining you mentally. ”

My brow furrowed, a pang of unease twisting in my gut. “Was it?”

He nodded, his eyes distant. “She wanted to come with me, to keep you company while I gave you that space. I agreed, but by then, you were already gone—kidnapped. It hit me: whoever took you used Elodie as a distraction. I went after suspects—your father, my brother. Made mistakes, nearly sparked a war. But they had no connection.”

I leaned forward, my hands clenching in my lap. “Then what happened?”

“Unknown to me, the ghost who took you contacted Elodie. Promised to deliver you if she brought my black card. She stole it from me and went alone. I found out too late—just her body.”

My face paled, horror washing over me. “I’m sorry about Elodie, Cassian. Truly. But I’m innocent. You’re punishing me for her choices?”

“Technically, I haven’t punished you yet,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “It’s just a threat. Elodie... she was everything to me. The only family left.”

For the first time, vulnerability cracked his mask—shoulders slumping, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“When we were kids, our father was a monster. Beat us both, but I took the worst to shield her. Once, he came at her with a belt for spilling milk—I was ten, she was seven. I stepped in, took the lashes until my back was raw. Told her it was a game, that I was her knight.”

I watched him, my own heart aching despite everything.

His hands trembled as he continued. “I swore I’d give her the best life—sent her abroad, away from this world. Protected her from it all. And now she’s gone because of you... or whatever web we’re tangled in.”

His voice broke on the last word, and for a moment, the powerful mafia boss was just a broken man, grief raw and exposed.

I wanted to reach out, but the bracelet—and the secrets it guarded—held me back.