I tossed the last love letter into the flames and watched as the fire devoured the final word. Only then did I speak, voice light and indifferent.
“Nothing important—just some useless things.”
He stared at the burning papers, watching familiar handwriting curls and blacken in the heat. Something about it felt wrong to him, and he opened his mouth to ask.
But Cassidy tugged on his sleeve first. “Brother-in-law, the children are getting sleepy.”
Joaquin cleared his throat awkwardly, his voice a little strained. “I plan to have the children stay in the nursery downstairs.”
“That nursery was for my baby!” The words burst from me before I could stop them—sharp and louder than I ever expected.
I looked down and saw my hand resting on my now-flat stomach.
Of course. That nursery was meant for my child.
“They are my children,” Joaquin said firmly, unmoved.
I scoffed and said nothing more. After tonight, none of this would have anything to do with me anyway.
He sighed and crouched beside me, lowering his voice. “Allison, if you’re willing, they can be your children too.”
Scoffing, I spat coldly, “I don’t want anything that comes with that kind of price.”
Behind us, Cassidy let out a soft, pitiful sob—just loud enough for the twins to start crying too. Joaquin immediately turned and rushed to comfort them.
I didn’t bother stopping him.
As soon as I closed my bedroom door, my phone buzzed with dozens of videos and photos—courtesy of Cassidy.
Every one of them was a record of her intimacy with Joaquin.
I scrolled through three years’ worth of passionate embraces, stolen kisses, hotel bookings. I thought I’d feel something—rage, heartbreak, nausea.
But no.
It was like watching a stranger’s drama unfold. Detached, numb, almost analytical.
I could even sense the fake joy Cassidy tried to display at times.
Then the barrage of text messages came next. She detailed every luxury Joaquin had spent on her.
The private ski chalet in Switzerland.
The penthouse apartment in Paris.
The seaside resort in Hawaii.
[Sis, did you like the perfume I sent? It’s been a while since someone gave you a gift, hasn’t it? That was a freebie from when your husband bought me new jewelry. I figured you’d appreciate it.]
[You thought marrying Joaquin made you better than me? I’m the mother of his children. To the world, you’re just the pathetic secretary who kept throwing herself at him.]
I turned off my screen and climbed into bed. Soon, none of this would matter anymore.
The room was dark when Joaquin returned.
He sat on the edge of the bed, watching me.
“Allison, you’ve crossed the line lately. That’s why I had to punish you a little. But if you just apologize to Cassidy and the kids, we can move on from this.”
He paused, then added, “Besides, isn’t your father’s company still waiting on funding from Davies Group?”
I let out a tired sigh. “What’s between us has nothing to do with business.”
In truth, that company was built by my mother—her blood, sweat, and tears. I couldn’t let her life’s work be threatened.
His eyes lit up at my words. He eagerly grabbed my hand.
“As long as you apologize, our two families can continue working together.”
Before I could answer, his phone lit up.
A new message from Cassidy.
I glanced at the screen.
It was a sultry video of her dressed in a tiny uniform skirt, performing a provocative pole dance.
I saw his body tense immediately.
He stood up in a rush, his voice husky with desire. “I’ve got something to handle. Think things over while I’m gone.”
And with that, he turned and left.
