Page 153 of Ruthless Claim

For a moment I can’t process her words.

Then the anger arrives—hot and immediate—because even with scientific proof, with irrefutable DNA evidence, she’s still looking for a way to make this not real.

“The DNA doesn’t lie, Valentina,” I say, and I can hear the edge in my own voice.

Valentina’s cheeks pinken slightly. “I know that⁠—”

“Do you?” I close the door and move further into the apartment. I’m trying to keep my temper and not quite managing it. “Because it sounds like you’re in denial.”

I know it’s the wrong thing to say the moment the words leave my mouth, but I can’t stop myself. The guilt of the past month has been crushing, knowing I had a son I’d abandoned, knowing Finn has grown up without a father because I’d been too careless, too selfish, too wrapped up in Connor’s world to even remember the woman I’d slept with.

And now Valentina wants to question it?

She wants to pretend there’s some—what?

Some conspiracy instead of accepting the much simpler, much more painful truth that I had fucked up nine years ago and a child has paid the price?

Valentina’s jaw tightens and she crosses her arms tightly across her chest. “I’m not in denial. I’m being cautious. In our world, you don’t just accept things at face value⁠—”

“In our world, when you get scientific proof that you have a son, you accept it and move forward.” I hear myself getting louder, but I can’t seem to stop. This is why she wanted to talk? Is she serious right now? “I know you’re upset, but this is just you grasping at straws.”

You’re upset because I have a child with someone else, I think but don’t say. You’re upset because this complicates your perfect life.

Valentina’s face flushes. “Grasping at straws? Someone with serious resources tried to destroy our marriage, Cillian! Someone hired that woman, paid her to⁠—”

“We don’t know that,” I cut her off, but even as I say it, part of me wonders if she has a point. But admitting it means admitting I’ve been played, and I cannot afford to be that weak. Not now. “The paternity test was done by a reputable lab with proper chain of custody. The science is sound.”

Valentina scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Science can be manipulated if you have enough money.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “You’re being paranoid.”

The words come out harder than I meant and I see her flinch. But instead of backing down she steps closer, hands clenched at her sides.

“And you’re being willfully blind!” The words explode out of her. “You want to believe her because you feel guilty!”

Now it’s my turn for my face to flush. The accusation hits too close to home. I feel my chest tighten.

“That’s not fair,” I say quietly, but I even hear how hollow it sounds.

“Isn’t it?” Valentina is really worked up now, all that Santoro composure stripped away. “You’ve spent the past month beating yourself up over abandoning a child you didn’t even know existed. You’re so consumed with guilt that you’re not thinking clearly.”

Maybe, a traitorous part of my mind whispers. Maybe she’s right.

But I can’t let her be right. Because if she’s right, if I’ve been manipulated this easily, then what does that say about me? That I am Connor’s puppet after all? So desperate for a chance to be something better that I’d believe any story that gave me the opportunity?

“I’m thinking perfectly clearly,” I tell her coldly. “I have a son. That’s the reality. And I need to figure out how to be a father to him while navigating this disaster of a situation. What I don’t need is my wife inventing conspiracy theories because she can’t accept that I have a child with someone else.”

The moment those words leave my lips, I regret them. Especially when I see how much they affect Valentina. Her eyes widen with hurt before they narrow with fury.

“Is that what you think this is?” Her voice is shaking. “Jealousy?”

Yes, part of me thinks. You can’t stand sharing me. You want to be the center of my world and now there’s someone else who needs me.

But even as I think it, I know it’s unfair. Valentina isn’t some trophy wife.

She’s smart and perceptive and has survived our world by trusting her instincts.

But I still hear myself say, “Isn’t it? You can’t stand the idea of sharing me with another child. Of Claire being in our lives forever. So you’re creating doubt where there isn’t any.”