The knock comes at seven in the morning. Tessa beats me to the door, still in her silk pajamas, coffee mug raised.
"If this is another package for the neighbor who can't read apartment numbers—"
She yanks it open. Caspian stands in the hallway.
"Absolutely not." Tessa moves to slam the door, but his hand catches it. "Get your hand off my property before I break every finger."
"I need to see my wife."
"Your wife doesn't live here. Wrong address."
"Tessa, I know she's here. I followed her yesterday."
I step into view, and my chest tightens the way it always does when I see him. Two years of marriage trained my body to respond to this man, and apparently ten months apart hasn't fixed that.
"You need to leave, Caspian."
"No." He plants his hand against the doorframe. "You disappeared without a word. I deserve an explanation."
"You deserve nothing from me."
"I thought you were dead. Do you understand that? I thought someone had taken you, hurt you—"
"Oh, that's rich." Tessa steps between us. "The man who couldn't notice his wife was miserable for two years plays the devastated husband. Save it."
"Elara—"
From the spare bedroom, Milo starts to cry.
Caspian's head snaps toward the sound.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
I move to block him but he's already pushing past me. He stops in the nursery doorway.
Milo lies in his crib, tiny fists punching the air, face scrunched and red as he wails. Two months old and already he has lungs that could shatter glass.
"Whose baby is that?" Caspian's voice cracks.
I push past him and scoop Milo up, cradling his head against my shoulder the way the nurses taught me.
"He's mine."
"How old is he?"
"Two months."
I watch him do the math. Watch the blood drain from his face.
"You were pregnant when you left."
"Tessa." I cut off whatever he's about to say. "Take Milo for a walk."
She doesn’t hesitate. The door clicks shut. Caspian and I stand alone in the nursery. He takes a step toward me, and I take one back.
"You were carrying a child, and you didn't tell me."
"Well, I figured you had bigger priorities."
He looks like I've shot him.
"I've wanted a child with you since the day we got married. You know that."
"What I know is that you checked out of our marriage the second my body failed to produce your precious heir. What I know is that your family spent two years reminding me that I couldn't give you what you needed. What I know is that when I called to tell you I was pregnant, your mistress answered the phone."
"She's not my mistress."
"I don't believe you."
Because if I do, I'm the only one guilty.
"Stop it." His voice cracks. "Just stop. I know I failed you. I know I deserve every bit of your anger. But that child might be my son, and I'm begging you—"
"He might not be."
Silence.
Caspian blinks.
"What?"
"I said he might not be yours."
The doorbell rings. I move past Caspian and yank the door open.
Rhys stands in the hallway, holding two dozen white roses.
My stomach flips. Not the good kind—the kind that happens when your body remembers something your mind wants to forget.
Heat floods my cheeks, and I hate myself for it. I hate that some animal part of me still responds to this man who tricked me, used me, made me betray everything I thought I believed.
"Elara." His smile falters. "I wanted to—"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Caspian appears behind me, and Rhys's eyes sharpen.
"Why are you at my wife's apartment with flowers?"
"I could ask why you're here at all. She clearly left you."
"Get out."
"I don't think I will."
Rhys pushes past me, and his hand grazes my hip. My skin lights up, traitorous and wrong. I step away, pressing my back against the wall.
His eyes sweep the apartment. Land on the baby blanket draped over the couch. The pacifier on the coffee table. The soft mobile visible through the open nursery door.
"Interesting décor choices, Elara." He picks up a stuffed elephant from the armchair. "Didn't take you for the type."
"She had my child." Caspian's voice could freeze steel. "Two months ago. And you need to leave. Now."
Rhys goes very still, the elephant dangling from his fingers.
"A child." He sets the toy down slowly, deliberately. "Yours, you say."
"Yes. Mine."
"Funny."
Rhys turns to face his cousin, and something dangerous flickers behind his eyes.
"Because the math doesn't quite add up, does it? Two months old means conception roughly eleven months ago. And eleven months ago, from what I understand, your wife wasn't exactly feeling cherished."
"You don't know anything about her."
"I know she left you." Rhys circles closer, a shark scenting blood. "I know she's been hiding for almost a year, which suggests she really, really didn't want to be found. By you."
Caspian's hands curl into fists.
"What's your point?"
"My point is that eleven months ago, there was a masquerade ball. Very exclusive, very anonymous. The kind of event where a neglected wife might go looking for a little... attention."
The room shrinks. I can't breathe. Caspian's eyes are locked on Rhys.
"What is he talking about, Elara?"
"Oh, she didn't tell you?" Rhys's smile spreads, slow and cruel. "Your wife came to that party starving for someone to see her. And someone did."
"You're lying."
"I saw her all night, cousin. Every. Single. Inch."
Caspian's fist connects with Rhys's jaw. Rhys staggers, wiping blood from his lip.
"Stop!"
I grab Caspian's arm. His muscles are coiled tight, vibrating with rage, and my palm burns against his skin.
"Both of you, stop!"
"She thought I was you." Rhys grins, blood on his teeth. "She wanted her husband so badly she convinced herself I was him. What does that say about your marriage?"
"I'm going to kill you."
"ENOUGH."
Both men turn to me.
"That baby might belong to either of you." I step between them, and I can feel both of their eyes on me—Caspian's desperate, Rhys's calculating. My body doesn't know which signal to follow. "But it doesn't matter, because neither of you is getting near him."
"Elara—" Caspian starts.
"No. You don't get to show up after ten months and demand anything. And you—" I turn to Rhys, and my throat tightens with revulsion even as my pulse races. "You don't get to pretend you have any claim on a child you didn't know existed until five minutes ago."
"I have a right to know if it's mine."
"Neither of you has anything except what I choose to give you, and right now I choose to give you the door."
"A paternity test," Caspian says. "We can settle this—"
"There's not going to be a test."
Silence.
"What?" Rhys steps closer, and I force myself not to move. "You can't just refuse—"
"Watch me."
For a long moment, Rhys is watching me with something new in his eyes. Calculation mixed with what might be respect.
"Get out. Both of you."
Caspian leaves first. Rhys lingers, his presence filling the room in ways that make my skin prickle.
"You felt something that night."
He steps close, too close.
"What I felt was a lie."
He leans in and presses his lips to my cheek. Drawing back, he studies my face, and whatever he sees there makes him smile.
"Lies can still feel good, Elara."
I watch him walk to the door. Watch him pause with his hand on the knob. Watch him glance back once, that infuriating half-smile still playing at his lips. Once the door clicks shut, I barely make it to the sink before I'm vomiting, hands gripping the counter.
Two men. One child. No answers.