Listen to Tonight by Zayn

"Grey?" I mumbled to be sure I heard him clearly.

"Do you know anyone by the name of Grey Ashton?" Detective Emily's voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of my confusion. She leaned forward slightly, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitting together in that professional yet somehow personal way that made her appear both engaged and calculating.

I stared at her, momentarily lost for words, my mind spinning. Grey? What the hell did Grey have to do with any of this? He didn't even know about Kayden.

"Miss Simpson?" Detective Emily's voice was a sudden snap, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. She was growing impatient, and I could feel her eyes on me like a predator sizing up its prey.

Before I could process what to say, Tristan's voice cut through the tension, smooth and calm but with an edge that made my heart race. "He's her ex."

Detective James didn't seem satisfied with just the brief response. He scribbled something in his notebook, glancing at us with a look that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "Interesting," he muttered, his eyes flicking back to me, as if weighing my every reaction. "Any bad blood between you two? Any unresolved... issues? Like, say, how things ended?"

"No! We are good friends. Trust me, he is a nice guy."
I heard Tristan scoff from beside me.

"Grey doesn't know about Kayden," I told them.

"Oh, really?" She exchanged an almost imperceptible look with her partner, her lips curling into something like amusement. It was as if she knew something I didn't—and she was enjoying the power of it.

I threw my hands up, trying to grasp at the impossible logic of the situation. "But how does Grey even factor into this? What does he have to do with... any of this?"

Detective Emily's eyes narrowed, and she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to that dangerous, controlled tone that made the room feel smaller. "We've interrogated all your friends. He's the only one who raised a red flag." She paused for effect. "His alibi doesn't hold up, and there's something he's hiding. We don't know what it is yet, but we've got our eyes on him."

My mind screamed with disbelief. Grey? No. This didn't make sense. There was no way. 

"He's been detained, actually," Detective James added, his tone flat and disinterested, as if it were just another fact to tick off. "For now, while we finish up our investigation."

"Detained?" The word hit me like a punch to the gut. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest as my breath caught in my throat. Grey is in jail? "No... There's got to be some mistake," I choked out, my mind spinning, trying to make sense of the chaos. How could Grey be involved in something like this? What was he hiding? How did he know about Kayden? Why would he ever want to hurt me—or my baby? None of it made sense.

"We'll keep you updated," Detective Emily said, her voice softer now, almost patronizing. She flashed a polite, too-perfect smile. "When we have everything figured out, we'll explain. Until then, have a lovely day."

Her words were final. She and Detective James turned on their heels, their footsteps too loud in the silent room as they headed for the door. Emily's smile lingered just a moment longer, her gaze lingering on me with that knowing look. James only offered a half-hearted salute, his eyes never quite meeting mine.

"Can you believe them? They think Grey tried to kill us." I said and laughed humorlessly.

I turned to Tristan and found his eyes closed, I knew he was pretending to be asleep.

I groaned and sank in my seat, why would Grey even want to kill me? Or kidnap Kayden?

"He is not the one, I'm sure they'll let him go once they are done with their investigation."

He didn't say anything, he turned his face away from me and moved Kayden closer to him.

I smiled at Kayden's tiny frame that snuggled closer to Tristan, Tristan moved his head up to create room for Kayden's small head.

I let out a slow, steady breath, the weight of the day still hanging heavily in my chest. My gaze dropped to my hands resting in my lap, my nails unremarkable and plain, the kind of small detail that didn't matter in moments like this. They had interrogated all my friends. Vina was still mad at me. I could feel it in the silence between us. I had expected her to come—expected her to show up, to be the one person who would be there, no questions asked, like she always was. But she hadn't. Not once.

With a deep sigh, I reached for my phone, the cold, smooth surface a stark contrast to the warmth of the room. I dialed her number, knowing full well that she'd send me to voicemail like she had every other time over the past few days. But this time... she picked up.

"Vina?" My voice was tentative, unsure, as if the name might dissolve the tension in the air.

I straightened in my seat, the sudden movement pulling my shoulders taut. There was no response—just the quiet hum of the line, the kind of emptiness that made me second-guess everything I had to say.

"Vina, are you there?" My words felt heavy, like I was speaking into a void. 

Then, finally, a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by an aggravated sigh. "What room are you in?"

Her voice was strained, laced with irritation, but there was something underneath it—something raw, something that felt more like hurt than anger.

I blinked, momentarily lost for words. "Room?" I echoed, confusion bubbling up inside me. "Are you at the hospital?" The words felt strange in my mouth, foreign, as if everything had become a blur of emotions and half-formed thoughts.

"Why else would I be asking dumbass?"
Okay, she was still mad at me.

"35, IMC Unit, second floor. If you..." My voice trailed off abruptly, and the line went dead before I could finish my sentence. I stared at my phone, a lump forming in my throat.

"Vixen is coming?" Tristan's voice was low, tinged with something I couldn't quite place. Maybe it was concern, maybe it was just resignation, but I could tell he wasn't thrilled by the prospect.

"Yeah." I took a breath, trying to steady the nerves that had just kicked into overdrive. "And I'd advise you not to call her that when she gets here."

He glanced over at me, a wry smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "She hates me."

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly, even though I knew there was nothing funny about it. "Does she have any reason not to?" I mumbled, my eyes fixed on the door, as if I could somehow will it to open and spare me the weight of this conversation.

There was a long pause, the silence hanging between us like an unwelcome guest. His gaze lingered on me, then slowly drifted down to his hands, clenched tight in his lap.

"If you never had Kayden, would you ever want to see me again?" His voice cracked ever so slightly, and I felt the rawness of his words hit me in the chest. There was pain in his tone, an ache that echoed in my own heart, and for a moment, I didn't know how to respond. The truth was, I didn't know anymore. I didn't even know what I felt about anything. Not anymore.

Before I could form an answer—before I could even begin to untangle the mess of emotions that had knotted up inside me—the door creaked open.

Vina stepped into the room like a storm, her presence filling the space with a sharp, electric tension. She didn't need to say a word for the room to shift, for the air to turn thick with the weight of all the unsaid things between us.

"Vina." I stood up, my heart giving a little jolt of hope, of maybe—just maybe—this would be the moment things would smooth over. I forced a smile, but it felt like a mask.

"Hi, Vina."
She pretended not to hear him.

Vina stood at the foot of the bed, her gaze fixed on Kayden as he lay peacefully, the rise and fall of his chest steady and soft. She didn't move, not for a long moment, her eyes lingering on him with a mix of awe and something else—something I couldn't quite name.

When she finally turned to face me, her expression was unreadable, almost cold, but I couldn't help the sharp ache that flickered in my chest. I forced a smile, wide and bright, trying to mask the rawness I felt inside, but she didn't return it. Her eyes were too full of unsaid things. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"How could you hide such an adorable angel from me?" Her voice cracked, frustration and hurt seeping through the words. "I wasn't even there when he came into this world. Not his first birthday, or his second. I didn't get to see your baby bump, or hear his first cry. That's so unfair, Chloe."

Her voice rose, the sharpness of it cutting through the silence in the room. The tension in the air thickened, and I felt myself shrink under the weight of her words, the reality of everything I'd kept from her crashing down on me like a tidal wave.

"I understand why you did it, and I don't blame you, but seriously," she continued, her voice shaking with raw emotion, "I thought, somewhere deep inside, you had an itty-bitty ounce of trust for me. I thought we had something. But I missed all those moments, Chloe. All of them."

The final words felt like a punch.

A pang of guilt twisted inside me, but I couldn't find the words to soothe her, to explain why I did what I did. She was right. I should've let her in.

But I couldn't. Not then.

She took a breath, her expression tightening. "Wait, does he have a godmother?" The question hung in the air, sharp and heavy, like a challenge.

"No," I whispered, my heart sinking. "Not yet."

Her face softened, but only slightly. "Good," she said with a grim smile, her voice carrying a cold edge. "If he already did, then forget about me ever inviting you to my wedding or my baby shower. Wait—did you even have a baby shower?"

I shook my head, the sting of it sharp. "No... it was just me." I offered a sad smile, but it felt hollow, empty.

Behind us, Tristan shifted uncomfortably, his voice quiet but firm.

"I'm not comfortable with this conversation."
Tristan said from behind us.

"Why? Because is all your fault?"
She grimaced.

The words hung between them, sharp as knives, but Tristan didn't respond. I could feel the tension radiating from him, could sense the walls he'd erected around himself. Vina, though, was still holding onto the anger, the hurt of being left out, of being cut out entirely from something she should've had a place in.

I took a step toward her, my hand reaching for hers, a silent plea. "Vina, it's fine. I want to put all that behind me."

She stared at me for a moment, her eyes searching mine, reading the truth I could no longer hide. Slowly, she softened.

"Sure, it wasn't the way I wanted it," I said quietly, her voice thick with something I couldn't name, "but I'm glad I had him. I'm glad he's here."

Without another word, she pulled me into her arms, holding me tightly, as if trying to mend all the broken spaces between us with the simple act of holding me close. I let her, my body relaxing into her embrace, the weight of the past few years finally lifting, even if just for a moment.

"He is waking up."

We both pulled away and looked at Kayden. He looked lost as he stared at Tristan.

"Hey, little man," Tristan murmured softly, his fingers brushing back the strands of hair that had fallen into Kayden's forehead.

Kayden's lips curled into a small, sleepy smile as his eyes continued to search the room. They finally settled on me.

I reached out instinctively, wanting to pull him close, to hold him against my chest. But before I could, Vina was there, her arms sweeping around him in a flash, lifting him up with surprising tenderness.

"Oh my God, he is so cute," she squealed, her voice high-pitched with affection, and I couldn't help but laugh softly at the joy in her voice.

"You look nothing like your father, you took everything from your momma."
Vina whispered loud enough for Tristan to hear, I chuckled as I saw Tristan's reaction.

Kayden's tiny mouth stretched wide in a yawn, and the sight of it sent a rush of warmth through my chest. I watched, mesmerized, as he blinked up at me sleepily, his little fists clenching and unclenching in the air. Gently, I reached into my bag, pulling out his small cup filled with his favorite snack—Goldfish crackers—and handed it to Vina.

His small hand shot forward, quick and eager, scooping up a handful of the little orange fish. He brought it to his mouth without hesitation, his eyes still droopy from sleep but his focus fixed on the snack. The moment he chewed, his lips curving into a tiny smile.

"Awwww," Vina cooed, her face lighting up as she gazed down at him with pure affection. The joy was undeniable in her voice, the softness of it taking over the room.

"I have an idea, how about we betroth my daughter to...."

"No."
Tristan and I answered in unison.

Vina didn't even blink at the rejection. Instead, she just raised an eyebrow and let out a soft chuckle. "Well, that was harsh. I just think they'd make a great couple," she added, as though it was a matter of fact.

Before any of us could respond, the door opened with a soft creak, and Adrian stepped inside. He held a bag of Olive Garden takeout in one hand, the familiar scent of pasta and garlic bread wafting through the room.

"Vixen?"
He smiled at Vina.

"Fancy meeting you here."

"I wish I could say the same for you," she replied coolly, plopping down in my chair as if she owned the place.

Adrian chuckled, stepping further into the room. He shot a quick glance at Tristan, who was  sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the interaction with mild amusement. "Hey, feeling better?" he asked, his voice lighter now, as if the tension in the room had dissipated just a bit.

"Better than ever," Tristan replied staring at me. I looked away from the heaviness of his gaze.

Adrian moved toward Vina, squatting in front of her, his face alight with humor. "Hey, buddy." He reached out to touch Kayden's cheek, his finger brushing softly against the smooth skin. Kayden's eyes fluttered, but he didn't stir from his content state, his little hand still clutching the cup.

Adrian looked up at Vina, smiling like he was just offered the whole world on a platter.

"What?"
She asked with a scowl.

"Let's have our own baby."
He said and winked at her.

Vina recoiled slightly, her face contorting in disgust. "Yuck." She practically gagged, her voice dripping with mock horror.

I couldn't help it. The sound of her exaggerated reaction mixed with Adrian's shameless grin made me laugh softly, the sound escaping before I could hold it back. My gaze shifted between them, watching the strange but endearing dynamic between Adrian and Vina unfold. It was absurd, but somehow, it was perfect. It was the kind of moment I never thought I'd experience—a small, fleeting taste of normalcy, of laughter, of lightness in a world that often felt far too heavy.

∆
Tristan was finally being discharged today. The doctors insisted he wasn't fully healed yet, but the relief in his eyes said everything. He was better—physically, at least. I watched him limp off to his room, aided by Eduardo, his body still too battered to walk alone, but his pride refused to let it show. I stayed behind in the living room, the weight of the situation pressing on my chest.

Nora swooped in with Kayden, her voice already soft and coaxing as she promised him her phone, the one thing that could keep him distracted for a while. Every corner of the house felt like a reminder of the chaos that had torn through my life. The apartment was still a mess—an emotional and physical wreck—and Vina and I were too scared to go back. Not with the person who had done this still out there. Still hunting.

I stretched my sore back, a quiet ache settling into my muscles, and that's when my phone rang. The sudden noise sliced through the silence, sending a jolt of tension down my spine. I grabbed it quickly, not recognizing the number.

"Hello?" My voice sounded small, uncertain, even to myself.

"Chloe, it's Detective Emily."

My blood ran cold. Her voice, calm but carrying that weight of urgency, sent a rush of fear through my veins. I barely managed to get the words out. "Hi, do you have the person?"

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a soft breath. "Yes. Could you come over to the station? I have something to show you." Her words were barely a whisper, and they settled over me like a heavy fog.

"Sure," I replied, my voice almost a breathless echo of hers.

"Great," she said, the professionalism in her tone slipping slightly as something else—something I couldn't name—crept in. "I'll be waiting."

I hung up, my mind racing, heart hammering in my chest. Without thinking, I called Vina.

She answered on the second ring. "What's going on?" she asked, sounding half-excited and half-worried.

"I need you to pick me up. I'm going to the station." I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself.

"On my way."

"You really don't think that maniac should know about this?" Vina asked once I got in the car.

I could hear the concern in her voice. "He's still recovering," I said, my voice tight, trying to keep the anxiety from spilling over. "I'll tell him when I get back."

"Do you think Grey's behind all this?" 

I took a deep breath, focusing on the road ahead of us as she drove, the soft hum of the tires on the pavement filling the silence. I couldn't look at her—not while she was eating a burrito, managing to do that and drive like it was second nature.

"Yeah."
She said without giving it a thought.

"Vina, he is our friend."

"I know, but ever since you got back from Cuba, he's been acting weird."

She was right. I knew it. But I had tried to justify it. I had told myself it was because I'd turned him down too many times when he asked me out, that maybe his distance was a response to the rejection. But now... now it felt like a chilling realization was creeping in. Had that been it all along?

"I thought he was just upset about me turning him down," I said softly, more to myself than to Vina. "He seemed happy with Gabriella... even if he never really wanted to talk about her."

"Maybe," she replied, her voice thick with suspicion. "But he's been acting weird. He won't even talk about her without getting all pissed off whenever I ask. It's like he's hiding something. Or avoiding something."

I nodded slowly, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I had missed signs—little things, odd moments. "True," I admitted, my mind racing as I pieced it together.

"And every time he comes over, he drills me with questions about you," Vina continued, her eyes narrowing as she thought back. "It's like he's obsessed with you. The questions get so personal sometimes, it feels like he's stalking you. I thought maybe it was just because he was still into you."

I felt my chest tighten. The weight of her words settled over me like a dark cloud, suffocating every breath I took. Could that have been it? Was this obsession something darker? "Hmm," I mumbled, my mind spinning, struggling to find any reasonable explanation.

The rest of the ride passed in a blur, Vina loudly belting out lyrics to Bad Bunny as though she could drown out the gnawing fear building in my chest. Her voice was almost too much, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her to stop. Every nerve in my body was on edge, vibrating with uncertainty. When we finally pulled up to the station, the familiar dread returned, squeezing my lungs tight.

I sucked in a deep breath, pushing open the car door. Each step toward the building felt heavier, like I was being pulled into a storm I wasn't ready to face. Inside, Detective Emily led us to her office, her gaze sharp as she assessed Vina, then me.

"She's my best friend," I said, my voice a little more brittle than I intended when I noticed the way Emily was watching Vina. It wasn't judgment, but there was something in her eyes—something that made me uneasy. "She was one of the people you interrogated."

Emily nodded, her expression unreadable. "I know. She was one of the first we spoke to."

Vina scoffed. "You mean bullied."

Vina hadn't been thrilled about the whole process—about being questioned like a suspect. But she had been cooperative, if not a bit defensive. Emily ignored her jibe, dropping three photographs onto the table with a quiet, deliberate motion.

I leaned forward, my breath catching in my throat. The images spread out before me—each one more chilling than the last. My pulse hammered in my ears as I took in the faces staring back at me, my eyes darting between the photos as my mind screamed in disbelief. They were all too familiar.

I didn't need to look at Vina to know she was just as stunned. Her hand hovered above the table, fingers trembling ever so slightly as she leaned closer, her eyes wide, her breath shallow. But me? I was frozen. A cold wave of realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

The person in those photos wasn't just a name. They weren't just a suspect. They were someone I knew.

"Told you," Vina whispered, her voice low, almost a hiss as the truth began to sink in.

"Grey?"

The word fell from my lips like a ghost, barely audible, as my eyes locked onto the photograph in front of me. I couldn't breathe as I took in the image of him—Grey—pulling off a ski mask, the familiarity of his face twisting into something I couldn't recognize. My stomach churned, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin.

The next picture—him, stepping out of a car with a gun in his hand. My heart stuttered in my chest, my fingers trembling as they traced the outline of his figure.

And the last picture. Him, walking alone into the woods, his back to the camera. I felt a chill deep in my bones. 

Detective Emily's voice cut through the fog in my mind. "We got these pictures this morning. We've been going through every street camera in the area. He drove all the way to another city to discard his weapon and change his clothes. He even dumped the car on the interstate."

My brain refused to process it. The words felt distant, muffled, like I was hearing them underwater. Grey? Grey had done this? I couldn't wrap my head around it. I stared at the images again, willing them to make sense, but they didn't. They couldn't.

Emily placed another set of photos in front of me, each one more invasive than the last. I hesitated, but then my eyes were drawn to the images—images of me.

It felt like the air left my lungs all at once. In the first shot, there I was, standing at Mrs. Porter's door. In the next, I was at the park, playing with Kayden. Then there was a picture of me in Mrs. Porter's backyard, smiling at Kayden as he toddled around.

I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears as I flipped through the photos. And then, the horrifying realization. Red X's. A large one drawn across Kayden in one of the pictures, another over Tristan in another. I couldn't stop my hand from shaking as I picked up the picture of me playing with Kayden—taken when he was just one.

Grey had been there. Watching. All along.

I stared at the photos, my mind a chaotic blur. The world around me seemed to dim as the weight of the truth pressed down on me. "He's known about Kayden for a long time," I whispered, my voice thick with disbelief. My eyes shifted to Detective Emily. "He's been following me... he's been watching me."

The sickening, crawling sensation in my gut that I had been trying to ignore for months—maybe longer—flared to life. The paranoia, the feeling that I was being watched, that I was never truly alone. I had always dismissed it as my mind running wild, my fears getting the best of me. But no. It had been real. He had been there, lurking in the shadows, unseen but always present.

"He's already pleaded guilty to all the charges," Emily said quietly, her voice soft, almost too soft, as if she were trying to shield me from the weight of her words.

My vision blurred. I tried to steady myself, to hold onto some sense of control, but the tears came anyway. Hot and relentless, they blurred my view of the photos in front of me. My chest constricted as if I had been punched, the sobs rising in my throat before I could swallow them down.

Vina was there, her hand slipping into mine, warm and steady, anchoring me. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. I could feel her strength in the pressure of her grip, a silent offering of comfort in the midst of the storm.

I wiped my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. The anger, the betrayal—it bubbled up in me, but there was something else, something I couldn't quite name. A raw, jagged pain that had nothing to do with the images in front of me.

"Can I talk to him?" I asked, my voice shaky, but the question fell from my lips before I could think about it.

Vina's grip tightened around my hand, and I saw the hesitation in her eyes. "Are you sure you want to do that?" she whispered. Her voice was low, careful, but her concern for me was undeniable.

I nodded, even though my stomach twisted at the thought of facing him. "I have to."

Vina's lips parted in a quiet sigh, but she didn't argue. She simply gave my hand one last squeeze before turning to Detective Emily.

"Okay," Emily said, her voice firm, but there was something soft in the way she looked at me. "But you only have five minutes."

As I stood, my heart thudded in my chest like a drum, each beat louder than the last. My legs felt like lead, but I forced them to move. One step, then another. As we walked down the hallway toward the interrogation room, the world seemed to narrow around me. All I could think about was what I might say, what I might ask.

Would I get the answers I needed? Or would I finally hear the words that would shatter everything I thought I knew about him?

I followed her to the visiting section, I took a seat and waited for Grey. A thick glass was separating us. I grabbed the corded phone at the corner as a cop dragged him to the room, the look on his face was stoic. He took the seat in front of me and looked me in the eyes.

"Hey, Chlo," he smiled.

"Why?" I asked him with a hard stare.
His lips quirked into a lopsided grin and he snickered.

"Funny how you are just finding out. Did you know I was sitting behind you on that bus you take every day when you want to go and visit that bastard child of yours?"

My grip on the corded phone increased at him calling my baby names; if I could reach between this glass and give him a hard slap, I would.

"Why did you do it?" I asked again, this time with a dark look.

"To end it all, I was sick of waiting for you, Chloe. I thought after everything that bastard did to you, you'd come back to me but no, you were carrying his baby which ruined all my chances with you."

He paused and laughed.

"I waited, I gave my best shot but you were still stuck on that psychopath. After everything he did to you, you went ahead to raise his child and as soon as he got back you were already back in his arms like nothing happened. You gave up on us, Chlo. Gabriella was just a diversion, I feel nothing for her. You will forever be the only girl I love, Chloe Simpson."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head in disgust.

"How did you find out about Kayden?"

"I was curious about why you always return late from work and why you were avoiding me, I decided to follow you one day and I saw it, I saw the bastard..."
I placed my fist on the glass panel between us, he gave me a sly smile. He knew I couldn't touch him.

"He is not a bastard, he is my son!" I exclaimed.
He sneered shaking his head.

"He is going to end up like his father, a psychopath!"
He spat.

I clenched my fists, I badly wanted to break his nose and smash his face on the table.

"You'll never be happy with him, Chloe. I wanted to do you a favor by getting rid of them. It's always been you, I love you, Chloe. I can't sit by the corner and watch you create a family with him. I wanted to end it all; if I can't have you no one will."

"I hope you rot in jail!"
I stood up.

"He will only hurt you, Chloe, he doesn't deserve you!!!"
He screamed after me.

As soon as I stepped outside, I bolted toward Vina, my legs carrying me on autopilot as I collapsed into her arms. I could feel the weight of everything I'd just heard pressing down on me, suffocating me.

"How did it go?" Vina asked, her voice a soft balm against my raw nerves. But I couldn't answer right away. The images of Grey, the look in his eyes, and his venomous words were still fresh in my mind, swirling like a storm.

"I don't want to talk about it," I choked out, burying my face into her shoulder, trying to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to break free.

We stayed like that for a long moment, me clinging to her like a lifeline, her hands rubbing soothing circles on my back. The world felt both unreal and crushingly real all at once.

When I finally pulled away, Vina led me toward the detectives' office. We exchanged a few more words, but my mind was elsewhere, lost in a haze of shock and disbelief. After the debriefing, Vina suggested we stop at the diner to get something to eat, and I agreed, needing to do something normal, even if just for a few minutes.

The booth felt like a small island of normalcy in the midst of the chaos that had consumed my life. The waitress brought over my order—fries and chicken wings, comfort food that felt out of place in my current reality, but I took it anyway. I sunk into the seat opposite Vina, who was humming softly to the tune of a song playing in the background. The air smelled faintly of grease and salt, and I tried to focus on it, anything to distract me from the gnawing ache in my chest.

I picked at the fries, my mind still reeling. Finally, I broke the silence. "I should've noticed," I muttered, the words barely leaving my lips. The guilt hit me like a wave, pulling me under.

Vina let out a low sigh, her voice calm but laced with understanding. "Yeah, who knew Grey was all that?" She shook her head. "It's true what they say: love makes you crazy. But don't blame yourself, Chlo. You couldn't have known."

I wasn't so sure. I couldn't shake the feeling that I should've seen it. Should've noticed the signs. The weird tension, the way he'd gotten so angry when I turned him down, the way he'd pushed me away when I tried to talk about his life with Gabriella. But none of it had seemed... dangerous.

"He wanted to kill Kayden?" I said, my voice trembling. "Who could want to kill an innocent baby?"

"Grey."
Vina answered even if she knew it was a rhetorical question.

"Poor Gabriella," Vina said, her voice tinged with a mix of pity and disbelief as she shook her head. She speared the strawberry from the top of her cup, bringing it to her lips with a quiet sigh.

I watched her, the sharp, bitter taste of guilt still lingering on my tongue. Gabriella, the woman who had been caught in Grey's web of delusions—was she a victim too? Or had she been complicit in his madness all along? The more I thought about it, the harder it became to decipher.

Vina leaned across the table, her eyes softening as she reached for my hand. "He's behind bars. There's nothing to worry about anymore," she reassured me, her fingers warm against mine. But even as she said it, I could feel the weight of those words pressing down on me. Nothing to worry about anymore—but that was a lie, wasn't it? My heart still raced, and my mind swirled with unspoken questions. There was still so much unresolved inside me.

I stared at my plate, the food untouched. The hum of conversation around me seemed distant, like I was hearing it through a fog. There was something pressing on me, something I needed to say, but the words were caught in my throat. Everyone knew about Kayden now. They all knew about my son, the child I would die to protect. But there was a secret I had kept—one I thought I would take to the grave.

I couldn't keep this from her any longer. She had been my rock, my friend when the world felt like it was crashing down. She deserved the truth, even if it was the hardest thing I'd ever had to say.

There was something on my mind, I wasn't sure about telling Vina. Everyone knew about Kayden already, they also needed to know about his twin.

I had made a choice, and there was no undoing it. No matter how much I wished I could turn back time, erase the path I'd walked, the damage was done. And there was nothing I could do to change it now.

"Kayden is a twin, he has a sister."
I said quickly not looking at her.

She stopped drawing her drink from the straw and spat everything on me.

"You gave birth to twins?!"

Hope you enjoyed this chapter.