Page 23 of Sinful Obsession (Broken Vows #3)

I sank back onto the couch, my hand on my belly, the baby’s presence a quiet promise amid the chaos.

“Why are you this harsh on me?” I asked, my voice cracking, tears blurring my vision. “I did nothing wrong.”

“You’re carrying another man’s child,” he snarled, his eyes flashing with a mix of fury and pain, his bruised hand flexing as if he wanted to punch the wall again.

“So?” I shot back, standing taller despite the fear churning in my gut.

“We’re not even married, Cassian. How is that a problem?

I was kidnapped, held captive for years.

And I don’t know why the fuck you’re not believing me—I remember everything now, every agonizing moment of those three years, and Ethan never touched me like that. ”

“He touched you when you were unconscious,” Cassian said, his voice dripping with certainty, his face twisting into a mask of disgust.

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, like a storm about to break. I backed away instinctively, my heart pounding, fear prickling my skin.

“No, he didn’t,” I insisted, my voice steady but my hands trembling at my sides.

“And how would you know?” he demanded, his eyes locking onto mine, devouring me with that intense, possessive stare.

He paused, his breath ragged, then his voice dropped lower, laced with a dangerous edge. “What are you going to do about the baby?”

The question hit like a slap, and I placed a protective hand on my belly, feeling the subtle curve beneath my shirt. “What nonsense are you insinuating? I won’t abort my child, Cassian. I don’t care if you believe it’s yours or not—I’ll raise this baby alone.”

He smirked, a cruel twist of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes, like my words were a pathetic joke. “And how will you breastfeed the child, huh? With that flat chest of yours?”

The words stung, dredging up old insecurities, memories of his past taunts about my body.

I hadn’t even thought about it—the practicalities, the challenges.

But I wouldn’t let him see my doubt. “There are artificial means,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt.

“Formula, pumps—whatever it takes. And I heard you were diagnosed with cancer too. Is that why you’re so angry? Because you think you’re dying?”

Cassian’s laugh was bitter, echoing off the walls as he shook his head. “I’m perfectly okay. It was a misdiagnosis—some incompetent doctor mixed up my scans with another patient’s. A routine check turned into a nightmare because of their error. I’m not dying, Charlotte. Not anytime soon.”

“So you’re not going anywhere, huh?” I said, relief mixing with the chaos in my chest, though it did nothing to ease the tension.

“No, I’m not dying,” he replied, his gaze dropping to my belly, his expression hardening again. “I won’t force you to abort your child. But as long as you carry this... this Ethan’s child... you can’t live in my house.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve always wanted?” I retorted, though my voice wavered. “Freedom from you?”

“Freedom from me, you’ll get,” he said, his tone mocking. “But how about freedom from Luca, Artem, and your father? They’re still out there, circling like vultures.”

“Why don’t you let me handle that?” I snapped, defiance flaring despite the fear gnawing at me.

“Leave then,” he said, his voice breaking for the first time, raw emotion cracking through his armor.

“Get out of my estate. I’ll forget I ever loved you, no matter how excruciating it is.

Forget how you’re burned into my soul, how you’re all I’ve thought about since that first night you kissed me in the club, desperate and fierce, like you were mine before I even knew your name.

How I couldn’t sleep in your absence, nights turning into hell without you.

I’d fight the world for you, Charlotte—bury myself six feet under if it meant keeping you alive.

But I have limits. You can’t carry another man’s child and live in my house, in my head. No. No, Charlotte.”

His words hit like a tidal wave, his voice trembling with the weight of his obsession, his love twisted into something painful and beautiful.

Tears streamed down my face, my chest aching. “Thanks for loving me,” I whispered, my voice small. “But no, I’ll never abort my child.”

I turned and walked inside, my legs heavy, each step feeling like a finality.

In the bedroom—our bedroom, once, memories of his touch lingering like ghosts on the silk sheets.

I pulled out a suitcase from the closet, my hands shaking as I packed the few things I had: jeans, tops, the DNA sample still tucked in a pocket, a handful of underwear.

Would he really send me away?

Where would I go?

I had no money of my own, no safety net. How would I take care of my child? Feed them, clothe them, protect them from the wolves circling my life—Luca with his calculated charm, Artem with his Russian brutality, my father with his endless schemes?

Ethan, the only twisted ally I’d had, was gone, his body cold on that deck.

The thought sent fresh tears down my cheeks, fear coiling in my gut like a serpent.

I was alone, truly alone, with a baby depending on me.

What if I failed? What if the world swallowed us whole?

After zipping the suitcase, I dragged it out, the wheels rumbling like thunder in the quiet house.

Cassian was still in the living room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his posture rigid, like a statue carved from stone and sorrow.

He pointed to the table, where a black card lay gleaming under the lamp. “Use that to take care of you and your child.”

The gesture hurt, a final severance that twisted in my chest.

I met his ocean-blue eyes, those eyes that had burned with obsession, that had softened in rare moments of tenderness. This man who’d tortured me but also protected me, who’d chained me but whispered promises in the dark. Now he was pushing me away, his love a fire he couldn’t contain.

“What if I get kidnapped?” I asked, my voice soft, testing the waters. “Will you feel a thing?”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes, pain flickering beneath. “Feel a thing? I’d feel everything if something happened to a single strand of your hair. It’d rip me apart.”

Tears streamed down my face, hot. “So why are you sending me away?”

“Haven’t you always wanted to leave?” he countered, his voice rough, breaking at the edges. “Isn’t this your chance to walk away from the man obsessed with you? The one who can’t breathe without you?”

“No,” I whispered, the truth spilling out. “I don’t want to leave you anymore. I love you, Cassian.”

“And I love you, Charlotte,” he said, the words a vow and a curse, the distance between us a chasm despite being so close.

I searched his decisive face, tears clouding my vision. “Are you still sending me away?”

“It’s your baby, not mine,” he said, his voice cracking, raw with emotion. “I know you’d do anything for that child, fight the world for them. But I can’t... I can’t raise another man’s legacy under my roof.”

“Divorce, marriage—it all means nothing when it comes to you. I love you so fucking much, Charlotte, with every beat of my heart, until my dying breath. You’re etched in me, a part of my soul I can’t carve out. But with that baby... raising Ethan’s child? Hell no. I can’t even imagine it.”

He pointed to the table again. “That black card has enough to last you and the baby a lifetime. But never contact me. I’ll never contact you.”

I hummed, silent tears tracing paths down my cheeks. “So this is the end?”

“Yeah.”

I forced out a painful laugh, bitter and broken. “Keep your card.”

“I’m not giving you an option,” he said, his voice firm but laced with regret. “Take it.”

I looked at the card, sleek and impersonal, and picked it up, slipping it into my pocket. “Can I at least sleep here tonight? I’m tired.”

He nodded, his eyes shadowed. “Okay.” Then he turned toward the door, his shoulders tense.

“Where are you going?” I asked, my voice small.

“Out,” he said, not looking back. “I’ll come home when I’m sure you’re gone.” He stepped out, slamming the door shut behind him, the sound echoing like a final nail in a coffin.

Tears rushed down my face, unchecked, as I sank to the floor.

He wouldn’t even stay under the same roof with me because he believed I carried another man’s child.

The house felt empty, colder without him, and doubt crept in. He was right—I couldn’t fully trust Ethan. What if he’d lied? I needed to confirm the truth myself.

I stepped out of the house, the night air cool against my tear-streaked face, and made my way to the estate gate.

A guard nodded me through, his eyes averted, as if he knew the storm brewing.

I hailed a cab outside, directing it to a shady tech shop in the city’s underbelly—a black-market gadget specialist, tucked in a dimly lit alley where hackers and fixers dealt in untraceable mods. The place smelled of solder and ozone, neon signs flickering over shelves of circuits and tools.

The owner, a wiry man with grease-stained fingers and a cybernetic eye that whirred as it focused on me, raised an eyebrow at the bracelet.

“This is high-grade Moretti tech,” he said, examining it under a magnifier.

“Unremovable without the key code or a serious hack. How in the world did you get stuck with something like this? Looks like a lover’s chain—or a prison sentence. ”

I brushed it off, my voice tight. “Doesn’t matter. Just get it off. I’ll pay whatever.”

He chuckled, pulling out a laser cutter and a decryption device. “Fair enough. Hold still—this’ll sting.”

The process took twenty minutes: a scan to bypass the locks, a precise cut along the seam, and a jolt of electricity that made my arm tingle.

When it finally snapped free, I rubbed my wrist, the skin red and raw, but the weight was gone. “That’ll be five grand,” he said, pocketing the cash from my wallet. “And lady, whoever put that on you? Don’t go back.”

From there, I headed to an ATM on a bustling street corner, the machine’s screen glowing in the night.

I inserted the black card, my fingers trembling as I transferred ten million dollars to my personal account—the maximum I could pull without raising flags.

The machine whirred, confirming the transfer, and I exhaled, a small sense of security settling in.

But the card was a tether to Cassian; he could track it.

Spotting a beggar huddled in a doorway, his clothes ragged, eyes weary, I approached. “Here,” I said, pressing the card into his grimy hand. “PIN is 0001. It’s your luck now—use it wisely.”

He blinked, clutching it like a lifeline. “Lady, you serious? This ain’t a joke?”

“It’s real,” I said, forcing a smile. “Take care of yourself.” I walked away, his stunned thanks fading behind me, hoping the card would lead Cassian on a wild chase if he bothered to look.

The hotel I chose was modest, a mid-range spot downtown, with clean rooms and anonymous guests.

I checked in under a fake name, paying cash, my suitcase thumping behind me as I rode the elevator to the fifth floor.

The room was simple: beige walls, a queen bed with crisp sheets, a small desk by the window overlooking the city lights.

I locked the door, my heart pounding, half-expecting Luca’s men or Artem’s shadows to burst in.

But it was quiet, safe for now.

I headed to the bathroom, stripping off my clothes under the fluorescent light.

The shower water cascaded hot over my skin, washing away the salt of the sea and the grime of the day.

I glanced at my reflection in the steamed mirror, my flat chest a stark reminder of old wounds—Cassian’s taunts, my insecurities.

But now, with the baby growing inside, it felt different, less a flaw and more a part of who I was.

I lathered soap over my body, the steam filling the air with lavender scent, my mind racing.

A fresh start, but how? I couldn’t stay here, vulnerable to the mafia’s reach.

Drying off, I slipped into pajamas and lay on the bed, the mattress soft but unfamiliar.

My phone glowed as I pulled it out, researching safe countries for a new life.

I scrolled through articles on my browser—Switzerland for its neutrality and strong privacy laws, Canada for its welcoming immigration and healthcare, New Zealand for its isolation and family-friendly policies.

Places where a single mother could disappear, raise a child in peace, away from the blood and betrayal. But doubt crept in:

How would I get there?

Visas, flights, starting over with no connections.

Cassian’s rejection echoed in my mind, his love confessions a bittersweet ache.

He’d pushed me away, but part of me wondered if he’d regret it, if he’d come searching. For now, I was free—and terrified. I closed my eyes, hand on my belly, whispering to my baby, “We’ll make it. Somehow.”

Sleep came fitfully, dreams haunted by endless seas.