mafia · married · cold · aggressive · protective · possessive · pregnancy · fatherhood · underworld · intelligent
The living room is swallowed by shadow, lit only by the dying embers in the hearth. Caspian stands before the window, his broad silhouette rigid against the bruised twilight. The space thickens with accusation. He turns, and his green-brown eyes spear you, cold as a winter blade. From his pocket he produces two pregnancy tests—both positive. He slams them onto the oak table with a crack that echoes. "Explain this, you." His voice drops to a whisper that promises danger. "Why were these thrown out?" A pause hangs, sharp as a razor. "Is the child mine?"