CHAPTER 48
Wood, musk… and mint.
God.
His scent didn't just linger—it lived in me. It clung to the deepest parts of my memory like it had carved itself into my bones. No matter how far I ran, no matter how much ocean air I drowned myself in, it never left me.
It was him.
It would always be him.
"Brenda…"
My eyes fluttered shut.
Not out of weakness—but because hearing him… hearing that voice again… it did something violent to my chest. Like my heart didn't know whether to beat faster… or just stop completely.
For a moment—just one—I allowed myself to feel it.
To bask in it.
To remember.
And then I crushed it.
Buried it.
Because letting him see that he still had a place inside me?
That would be my undoing.
So I chose pain instead.
I chose anger.
I chose the version of me that ran.
As his footsteps drew closer, something inside me snapped—
I flinched.
Actually flinched.
My body reacted before my pride could even catch up, backing away from him, my head shaking slowly like I was trying to erase him from the room… from my life… from my blood.
He saw it.
Of course he did.
Christian always saw everything.
And for once… he listened.
He didn't force himself closer.
Didn't command. Didn't dominate.
He sat down.
Quietly.
On the chair by the mirror.
And somehow… that hurt more.
"Why?"
His voice came out low… strained… like it had been dragged through broken glass. There was something fragile in it—something trembling, like he was holding himself together by a thread that was seconds away from snapping.
"Why what?" I asked, even though I knew exactly what he meant.
He lifted his eyes.
And God… the way they locked onto mine—
"You left," he said. "You ran away. You disappeared."
Each word landed heavier than the last.
His gaze didn't move. It pinned me in place, like he was trying to carve answers straight out of me.
"That shouldn't be—"
"You ran away with my child."
The interruption was soft.
Too soft.
And that softness?
It ignited something ugly inside me.
Rage curled in my stomach, hot and immediate, rising so fast it made me dizzy.
Before I could stop myself, I grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at him—not because I thought it would hurt him…
…but because I needed something to hit him.
He caught it mid-air.
Of course he did.
"YOUR CHILD?" My voice cracked, shattered, exploded all at once. "THIS IS MY CHILD! MINE ALONE! YOU ARE NOT HIS FATHER!"
Tears streamed down my face like they had been waiting for permission to fall.
Unstoppable.
Burning.
He smiled.
And that smile?
It made me want to claw his face off.
"You and I both know I'm the father."
"YOU AIN'T THE FUCKING FATHER!" I screamed, my entire body shaking now. "YOU MIGHT HAVE BEEN… BUT NOT ANYMORE!"
My chest heaved violently, like I was suffocating on my own emotions. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it hurt.
Too angry to think.
Too broken to reason.
"Don't get so agitated," he said, standing up slowly and moving toward me like I was something fragile. "It's not good for you… or the baby."
That—that right there—almost broke me again.
Because he said it like he cared.
Like he hadn't been the reason I ran in the first place.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
Close.
Too close.
"I know I said things…" he started, his voice dropping, losing its edge. "Things I can't take back. I wasn't ready. I was scared…"
He exhaled deeply, like the weight of his own words was choking him.
"No matter how much I apologize, I know it won't undo what I did to you… what I put you through." His eyes softened, and that softness felt like a knife. "But I want us to start again. For our child. For us. To forgive each other… to accept what God is trying to give us."
I laughed.
A broken, hollow sound that didn't even feel like it came from me.
"God?" I shook my head slowly, tears still falling. "You've got jokes. You really do."
And just like that—
I broke.
Not gracefully.
Not quietly.
I collapsed into it.
Sobs tore through me, raw and ugly, ripping out of my chest like something had finally snapped beyond repair.
"You're vile…" I cried, my voice trembling violently. "You're evil… cruel… do you even hear yourself?!"
He reached for me.
And I lost it.
"No!" I screamed, recoiling like his touch would burn me alive. "Don't touch me! GET AWAY FROM ME!"
My voice echoed through the room, sharp, desperate, breaking apart at the edges.
A knock came at the door.
Soft. Careful.
"It's unlocked," Christian said, his voice slicing through the chaos like a blade.
The door opened slowly.
A man stepped in—hesitant, cautious, like he wasn't sure if he was walking into a storm or a war zone.
"I'm sorry, sir…" he began carefully, glancing between us. "But I don't think this is good for her. Stress like this… it's dangerous for both her and the baby."
Silence.
Heavy.
Christian gave a small nod.
And without another word… he walked out.
CHRISTIAN'S POV
I gave her one last look before stepping out.
And closing that door?
It felt like I was locking myself out of something I wasn't sure I'd ever get back.
I stood there for a second.
Just breathing.
Trying to process the wreckage I had just witnessed.
Because that woman in there…
That wasn't the Brenda I knew.
Or maybe…
It was.
Brenda Belair.
Sweet. Composed. Elegant. Untouchable.
She still was all those things.
Just not with me.
With me… she was fire. Rage. Pain.
And I deserved every bit of it.
Every word she threw at me felt earned.
Every tear she shed felt like my doing.
And still—
I wanted her.
God, I wanted her.
Not just her body.
Not just the child she carried.
I wanted her.
If she told me to go blind just to prove I loved her… I would do it.
No hesitation.
No second thought.
I'd tear myself apart piece by piece if it meant she'd look at me the way she used to.
Reginald was sprawled across my chair like he owned the place, stuffing a donut into his mouth like the world wasn't collapsing around me.
I poured myself a glass of whiskey, my hand steady even though everything inside me was anything but.
I walked to the window.
Stared out.
The villa was silent. Isolated. Untouchable.
Only three people knew this place existed.
Me.
Reginald.
Cyril.
And Brenda… didn't even know where she was.
"I know she's going to give you hell," Reginald said, crumbs falling from his mouth as he spoke. His eyes glinted with amusement. "And honestly? You deserve it."
I huffed out a quiet laugh.
He wasn't wrong.
"Take it like a man," he continued. "Even if she pours lava on your head—stand there and take it."
I shook my head, a small chuckle escaping me despite everything.
"You're an asshole."
"This asshole," he pointed at himself, "kept the mother of your child safe while you were busy being a complete idiot."
He wiped his mouth, straightened up, and started heading out.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
He paused at the door, turned back with a smirk that already told me I wouldn't like his answer.
"To get some pussy," he said casually. Then his eyes lit up with mock realization. "Oh wait… you're vegan now, right?"
His laughter echoed down the hallway as he disappeared.
And just like that…
I was alone again.
Alone with my thoughts.
Alone with the mess I created.
And for the first time in a long time…
I wasn't sure if I could fix it.