Chapter Four Carmen’s POV

The bed was soft and inviting but I couldn't get a wink of sleep all through the night.

When Kethan fell asleep in my arms, I placed him on the bed and then started pacing the length and breadth of the large room with my hands crossed on my chest.

They said he was coming; the Don’s son. The words alone made my stomach twist and I didn’t even know what to imagine.

Was he a monster in his father’s image or a cruel man who had come home only to finish what his father had started?

At exactly six am the next morning, through the intercom in the room, Maurice had asked me to clean up and come downstairs which I did promptly.

I had spent the last few minutes sitting in this large, cold and lifeless room with the air thick with deafening silence.

The guards at the door stood like statues, their eyes were cold and their fingers twitching near their guns.

I could barely breathe, my palms were slick with sweat and my heart was punching against my ribs.

Kethan sat close to me, his little hand gripping mine so tightly that it hurt. I could feel him trembling too, though he tried to hide it.

“Mom,” he whispered. “Are they going to take us away?”

“No, baby,” I lied softly, brushing his hair back. “No one’s taking you anywhere,” I said and I wished I believed that.

It was at this moment that the door opened.

The sound was slow and final, like the beginning of something I couldn’t escape.

Every instinct in my body screamed danger the moment a man I hadn’t seen the previous day walked into the room with the kind of presence that made the air itself tense.

He was tall and his broad shoulders were wrapped in a black tailored suit. His dark hair fell carelessly over his forehead and his jaw was sharp enough to cut glass.

A thin scar ran along the edge of his chin. It was barely visible but it added to the rough and dangerous beauty of him.

And his eyes… God, those eyes. They were a pair of cold steel gray, glinting beneath the dim light.

He was breathtaking in the worst way and for a moment, I forgot to breathe.

He didn’t say anything, he just stood there, looking at me like I was a ghost he had seen before.

His gaze moved from my face to Kethan, and when Kethan looked back at him with the same eyes he had, something flickered behind his expression but he didn’t show it for long.

This beautiful stranger and Kethan for some reason looked alike. The only difference between them was their age.

Suddenly, he gave a short, humorless laugh that chilled me to the bone. Then, with a smooth voice that was deep as sin, he said, “Everyone, out.”

The guards exchanged uneasy glances before shifting their gaze back to him.

“Now,” he added, his tone carrying a quiet authority that no one dared question.

“Don't lose it," the man who has accompanied him said before walking out while Maurice patted his shoulder.

Within seconds, the room emptied and the door was clicked shut.

Now, it was only me, him and Kethan.

My pulse was thundering so loud that it drowned out everything else. I clutched my son closer, feeling the rapid beat of his tiny heart against my chest.

He took a step forward, then another, before lowering himself into the armchair opposite mine.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving mine.

“So,” he finally spoke, his voice quiet and dangerous. “You’re the woman who killed my father.”

The words sliced through the air like a blade and I swallowed hard.

“That’s not true,” I managed to say when I found my tongue.

“Really?” He chuckled but there was no humor in it. “Then maybe you can tell me why they found you in his blood and alone in his office.”

I couldn’t look at him so I stared down at my trembling hands instead.

“I don’t know how it happened. I went there to check on him, and he was already…” My throat tightened. “Already dead.”

“How convenient.” His voice was laced with disbelief and it sent my heart into a rapid beat.

“I didn’t do it,” I whispered. “Please believe me." I cried, pulling Kethan into my chest like he wanted to take him from me.

Watching me like a predator accessing his prey, he leaned back into the chair. “Everyone says that when they’re caught.”

“I’m telling the truth,” I said, my voice shaking. “I didn’t kill him. I would never…”

“Never what?” he cut in, narrowing his eyes at me. “Never kill the man who owned you?”

I froze.

He studied me for a long moment in silence and then his gaze dropped to Kethan.

“The boy?” he asked coldly. “He’s yours?”

Pulling Kethan closer again, I nodded, “Yes.”

“His name?”

“Kethan.”

Tilting his head to the side, he asked, “And who’s his father?”

“What?” I gasped, my breath hitching against my throat.

“You heard me.” His tone was casual, but I could feel the tension beneath it. It was a quiet, deadly curiosity.

“Who’s the boy’s father? Don’t tell me it was my old man.”

The question struck like lightning and my throat closed up so I couldn’t answer.

With his elbows still on his knees, he leaned forward, “Was it him?”

“No!” I said too quickly avoiding his face. I couldn't bear to look at the stranger who was the older version of my son.

“He… he was never…” I stopped myself, biting back the rest.

“Then who?” He smirked, leaning back in his chair. No doubt, he was enjoying torturing me.

“That’s none of your business.” I spat out, my eyes glinting in defiance.

“When an innocent child lives under my roof and his mother is accused of killing my father, it becomes my business.” He snapped, matching my tone.

With my head bowed, I could feel his stare burning into me, dissecting me and reading every twitch and tremor.

Slowly, Kethan shifted in my lap only to look up at me with wide and innocent eyes. “Mom,” he whispered softly, “is he my father?”

The room froze.

My heart stopped and I felt the color drain from my face.

With panic flooding through me, I covered his mouth quickly. “Kethan, don’t…”

The man’s eyes darkened, that glacial calm cracking for the first time and a muscle in his jaw ticked.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “The boy thinks I’m his father.”

With a trembling voice, I shook my head. “He’s just… he doesn’t know what he’s saying.” I defended my son.

He let out a low and humorless chuckle again, “Doesn’t he?”

I didn't answer.

His gaze flicked between me and Kethan again. It was slower this time and deliberate.

Moments later, he straightened, shifting into a colder, quieter, and dangerous tone. “You claim you didn’t kill him,” he said. “Fine, then you’ll prove it.”

“What are you talking about?” I whispered, my thoughts running all over the place.

Pushing himself up, he towered over me. “You’ll remain under my roof until we find the truth and that's because you’ll help me uncover whoever did this since you are claiming to be innocent.”

“I… what?” I gasped. “No, please, I can’t…” My voice is shaking now.

“You can,” he said, cutting me off. “And you will.” I was going to protest again but he grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.

“Because if you don’t…” He trailed off as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper that brushed cold against my ear.

“I’ll kill you myself.”