Page 22 of Sinful Obsession (Broken Vows #3)

CHARLOTTE

The days on the yacht blurred into a monotonous rhythm of solitude.

At first, the vastness of the floating mansion overwhelmed me—its decks sprawling like a labyrinth of luxury, and private suites that could rival any five-star hotel.

I wandered the halls, my footsteps echoing on the polished teak floors, trying to make sense of my new prison.

The air was always salty, the gentle rock of the waves a constant reminder that I was adrift, cut off from the world.

I unpacked the clothes Ethan had left—simple dresses, jeans, and tops in soft fabrics—and stocked the fridge with the pre-supplied meals, cooking for one in the expansive galley.

It was lonely, achingly so, the silence broken only by the distant cry of seagulls or the hum of the yacht’s generators.

I found myself hoping for the maid’s arrival, imagining a woman’s voice to fill the void, someone to talk to beyond my own reflections in the mirrored walls.

But as the sun set each evening, painting the sea in hues of orange and purple, no one came.

I adjusted, forcing myself into a routine—morning walks on the deck, afternoons reading in the library lounge, evenings staring at the stars from the helipad.

Yet the isolation gnawed at me, a quiet terror that Ethan’s promises were lies, that I’d been abandoned here forever.

On the fourth day, as I sat in the sun lounge sipping tea, trying to ignore the growing bump under my shirt, a distant whir cut through the calm.

My heart leaped—the sound of a chopper.

Finally, the maid.

I set down my cup, my hands trembling with a mix of relief and nerves, and hurried to the upper deck. The wind whipped my hair as I shielded my eyes against the sun, watching the chopper approach, larger than Ethan’s jet, its blades slicing the air with authority.

But as it landed on the helipad, my relief shattered.

No maid emerged. Instead, a group of men in dark suits stepped out, their postures rigid, eyes scanning the deck like predators on the hunt.

They lined up in formation, automatic weapons slung over their shoulders, exuding the kind of danger that made my stomach twist.

My breath caught, fear coiling in my chest. Were these Ethan’s father’s men? The Bellucci Clan, come to claim me as replacement for my mother? To drag me to Chicago for a fate worse than death—rape, prostitution, endless torment?

I backed away, my hand instinctively protecting my belly, my mind racing with escape routes, but the yacht was a trap, surrounded by endless ocean.

Then a powerful figure emerged from the chopper’s center, tall and commanding, his dark coat billowing in the wind.

My fear spiked, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin. No. It couldn’t be. But as he turned, his face came into view—sharp jaw, piercing eyes, the scar on his cheek a familiar mark.

Cassian. God, how had he found me? The tracker bracelet on my wrist burned like a brand, a stupid oversight I’d forgotten in my panic.

He’d tracked me across the sea, his obsession a chain I couldn’t break.

Before I could process, another chopper roared in, landing beside the first.

Two men hauled out a body, limp and lifeless, dumping it unceremoniously on the deck. My heart jerked as recognition hit—Ethan, his face pale, a clean bullet wound in his forehead, blood trickling down like a tear.

I ran to him, dropping to my knees, agony ripping through me. “Ethan,” I whispered, tears flooding my eyes as I touched his cold cheek.

Sobs tore from my throat, uncontrollable, my body shaking with the weight of it all. He’d been a monster, yes, but he’d also been the boy I’d protected, the man who’d spared me worse horrors for his daughter’s sake.

I turned to Cassian, my voice breaking through the tears. “Why would you kill him?”

Cassian’s eyes were ice, his voice a low growl. “He took you from me twice. Killed my sister. Stole three years of your life and turned it into hell. Why the fuck are you crying over that bastard?”

“Do you know how powerful his family is?” I pleaded, my voice trembling, wiping tears from my face. “The Bellucci Clan—they’ll come for you.”

“Let me handle that,” he said, his tone dismissive, dangerous. “Get into the chopper.”

I stayed kneeling by Ethan, childhood memories crashing over me—pushing bullies away from him in school, sharing lunches when he had none, his grateful smiles that hid the darkness he’d become.

Pain twisted in my chest, not overwhelming grief, but a sharp hurt for the boy he’d been.

He’d done it all for his daughter, but that didn’t excuse the torture, the lies, the violation.

Still, seeing him lifeless, eyes staring blankly at the sky, broke something in me. “I’m sorry, Ethan,” I whispered, reaching out to close his wide-open eyes, my fingers lingering on his cold skin.

I stood, stepping away, walking toward Cassian with a mix of resignation and defiance.

“So what will you do to me?” I asked, bracing for the worst, expecting chains, pain, his infamous punishments. “For escaping?”

Cassian’s gaze darkened, his voice a velvet threat. “I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk again.” He paused, his eyes raking over me. “Now get in the chopper.”

I exhaled sharply, swallowing the fear rising in my throat.

There was nothing I could do—outnumbered, outpowered—so I obeyed, climbing into the chopper.

Cassian followed, sliding in beside me, his presence a wall of heat and tension.

The blades roared to life, lifting us into the sky, the yacht shrinking below like a discarded toy.

I stole glances at him throughout the flight, his side profile unreadable—jaw clenched, eyes fixed ahead, the scar on his cheek a stark reminder of his violence.

He didn’t speak, didn’t touch me, but his silence was louder than words.

The chopper finally descended over Cassian’s mansion, the familiar sprawl of stone and glass sending terror through me.

Memories flooded back—the chains, the leash, his possessive rage.

Stepping out felt like walking into a lion’s den, my legs unsteady on the helipad.

The chopper took off, leaving us alone in the fading light, the mansion looming like a fortress.

Walking inside terrified me, each step echoing in the grand foyer, the air thick with the scent of leather and polished wood.

My tummy pulsed, drawing my attention to the bump under my shirt. Sooner or later, it would show, binding me to him forever.

Was it better to tell him now? Maybe he’d be gentler, seeing the life we’d created—though I doubted it.

“I need to tell you something,” I said, my voice shaky as we entered the living room.

“Get inside,” he commanded, his expression masked.

I stepped in, sinking onto the plush couch, my hands twisting in my lap.

Cassian appeared, settling beside me like a king on his throne, legs crossed with deliberate ease, his gaze fixed on me.

“I remember everything now,” I said, forcing my voice steady, meeting his eyes.

“How we met—the club, the kiss to escape those men chasing me. How you kidnapped Luca on our wedding day, forced me to marry you instead. The chains, the leash... taking me from behind because of my flat chest—all because of what my mother did to yours.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice low, dangerous. “Why did you leave?”

“You scare me,” I admitted, my chest tight, heart pounding. “I don’t want to live with you. And we’re not even married. Why should I? On what basis?”

His eyes darkened, heat and possession radiating off him. “Marriage or not... you’re mine. You’ll stay with me. And yes—you’ll marry me again.”

I shot back, defiance burning through my fear. “No. I won’t. Not unless you force me again.”

A shadow of a smile flickered on his lips, but his tone was lethal. “I won’t have to,” he said.

My heart grew heavy, the words rehearsing in my mind like a prayer. I swallowed hard, forcing them out. “I... I’m pregnant.”

“What?” The mask he always wore shattered, replaced by a wildfire of fury in his eyes. He rose, towering over me, every inch of him radiating danger. “With... Ethan’s baby?”

I hesitated, the truth stuck in my throat, but I couldn’t lie. Not about this.

“Answer my fucking question,” he growled, his voice thunderous. “You’re pregnant with Ethan’s baby?”

“No,” I said, my voice steady despite the fear. “The child is yours.”

He laughed, a bitter, disbelieving sound, stepping back and pacing like a caged animal. “We haven’t seen each other in two years, let alone fucked. We only had sex a week ago, and you’re already pregnant? Bullshit.”

“I’m three months along, and it’s yours,” I insisted, rising to face him. “Ethan explained—he got your sperm and induced it into me through in vitro fertilization. Artificial insemination, Cassian. No sex involved.”

Another harsh laugh tore from him, and he slammed his fist into the wall. Plaster cracked, and the sound of bone striking bone reverberated. “Jokes on you, Charlotte. He fucked you, and that baby’s his. I should’ve made his death slower, more painful.”

“Why won’t you believe me?” I pleaded, stepping closer. “We can do a test. A DNA test. It’s possible, even with the baby still in my belly—non-invasive prenatal testing.”

“Fuck the test!” he roared, his face twisted in rage. “That boy was a liar, a snake in the grass. You saw it yourself—pretending to be your friend, your savior. And you still trust his word?”

“We can just do the test,” I said, my voice breaking. “It’ll prove it.”

He turned, his eyes blazing. “Listen, woman—that baby isn’t mine. Stop dreaming.”

I watched as he turned away, his bruised hand flexing, blood trickling from split knuckles.

Then he pulled out his phone, dialing with furious precision. “I want everything on the Bellucci Clan burned to the ground,” he barked into the receiver.

He paused, listening. “Good.”

“Cassian, don’t start a war,” I begged, grabbing his arm. “You don’t know what you’re unleashing.”

“You shut the fuck up!” he snarled, shaking me off, his voice a whip.

The call ended, and the room fell silent, heavy with the storm he’d just unleashed.