Selene’s POV
I run my fingers gently through Rosalie’s soft curls, watching her tiny chest rise and fall as she sleeps peacefully in the hospital bed. She’s getting better.
For the past week, I’ve been going back and forth between the hospital and Dominic’s penthouse, making sure Rafael and Rosalie are cared for. I should feel relieved—her surgery was successful and her current treatment is better than anything I could have provided alone—but my mind is too tangled, too wrecked by the truth I can’t escape.
Dominic wasn’t the one who hurt me that night.
I press a trembling hand to my stomach, swallowing against the wave of nausea that comes with that thought. He was drunk, I was drugged… a one-night stand happened.
And then—his father’s men came.
A shudder rolls through me. It wasn’t supposed to be Dominic. His father was meant to be the one in that hotel room. I was supposed to be his victim, his possession.
The horror of it seeped into my bones, chilling me from the inside out.
And my father… the man I spent my whole life looking up to, mourning, grieving—he did this to me. I was crying over his death, drinking away my pain in that bar, when the real pain—the true betrayal—was because of him.
He was the reason I was there in the first place. The reason I ended up in that hotel room. The reason I was assaulted.
He sold me.
I grip the arms of the chair beside Rosalie’s bed, my body shaking. I want to scream. I want to undo everything, go back in time and stop it from happening.
But I can’t. All I can do now is protect my children. And find Santi.
Dominic hasn’t stopped searching. He’s relentless, chasing leads, making calls, threatening people who refuse to talk. I know he won’t stop until we have answers.
And I hate that part of me is relying on him.
***
The penthouse is quiet when I walk in, carrying Rosalie in my arms. She’s tired but better, her fever gone, her little body finally strong enough to come home.
Rafael is in his room when I check on him, sitting cross-legged on his bed with his sketchbook spread open. He’s drawing something—his little brows furrowed in concentration.
I step closer, my heart clenching when I see what it is.
A family. A man, a woman, a boy, and a girl—holding hands. He looks up, his dark eyes locking onto mine. Dominic’s eyes.
“Hey, baby,” I whisper, sitting beside him. “What are you drawing?”
He hesitates before answering. “Us.”
I swallow hard. “Oh.”
“I added Dad,” he says, voice small.
My chest tightens. I don’t know what to say.
Dominic has been in our lives for weeks, and Rafael is already claiming him. Do I let him? Do I fight it? Do I even have a choice?
I kiss the top of his head, blinking back the sting of tears. “It’s beautiful.”
He beams up at me, then goes back to shading in Dominic’s suit. He’s already starting to accept him. And I don’t know if that terrifies me or comforts me.
***
The kitchen is dimly lit when I step inside, still dressed in my hospital clothes. I stop when I see him.
Dominic is leaning against the counter, a bottle of wine open in front of him, his sleeves rolled up, his tie undone. Tired, tense, deep in thought.
He looks up when he hears me, his gaze impossible to read.
“We need to talk,” he says.
I hesitate, gripping the edge of the counter. “About what?”
Dominic exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Everything.”
A lump forms in my throat. I don’t know if I’m ready. But I nod anyway. I tuck Rosalie and Rafael into bed, pressing kisses to their foreheads before making my way back downstairs. Back to Dominic.
He’s still there, waiting, watching.
Without a word, he pours two glasses of wine and slides one toward me.
I sit across from him, wrapping my fingers around the glass, watching the deep red liquid swirl. “What do you want to talk about?”
He studies me, his gaze unwavering. “I know you don’t trust me.”
I am tense. “Should I?”
He doesn’t flinch. “I don’t know. But I’m trying to fix this.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Fix it? Dominic, our whole relationship started with a lie. With—” I cut myself off, shaking my head. “You want me to believe you’re some kind of savior, but the truth is, your father ruined my life.”
His jaw clenches. “And I’m not him. As much as I want to make him pay for what happened to you, he’s already dead, Selene.”
I lift my chin, my throat tight. “I…did not know that.”
Silence stretches between us, heavy and charged. Then, his voice drops. “Do you hate me?”
I inhale sharply. I should. I should hate him for what his father did, for what his name means, for everything that night stole from me. But the real truth? I don’t know what I feel.
I take a slow sip of wine, feeling the warmth spread through me. “I don’t know.”
His gaze flickers to my lips. “You’re tipsy.”
I let out a small laugh, the tension cracking just a little. “Maybe.”
He reaches across the table, his fingers grazing my wrist. The touch is light but electric. I should pull away. I should shut this down. But I don’t. I look at him, at the way his lips part slightly, at the way his eyes darken.
And before I can stop myself—I lean in.
His hand slides to my jaw, fingers tilting my chin up. His breath brushes against my lips, and for a split second, everything else fades.
Then, I kissed him.