Chapter 4 Chapter Four

“Hello, Lyn. Long time no speak,” Ellie greeted as soon as she picked up the phone.

Evelyn’s familiar laughter spilled through the speaker. “How’s my home girl doing?”

“Fine. How’s South Africa?” Ellie asked, leaning back in her chair. Just hearing her best friend’s voice eased some of her day’s tension.

“Great! I love it,” Eve said, sounding genuinely at peace. “I’m so, so happy here.” She released a contented sigh. “Thank you so much for everything, El.”

Ellie chuckled softly. “What are friends for?”

“I’m talking about Greg,” Eve clarified. “Even though you practically forced him down my throat when I didn’t want him…I’m grateful you didn’t give up. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Elyon laughed, delighted for her friend. Matchmaking had never been her hobby, but Greg had confessed his feelings with such sincerity that she couldn’t resist nudging fate a little. “You’re welcome.”

Greg had adored Evelyn long before Evelyn noticed him. In the beginning, Evelyn hadn't been interested at all. But time had a strange way of softening people—she eventually saw Greg for who he was: kind, thoughtful, honest.

A year later they were married, and when Greg’s boss transferred him, they packed up their new life and moved to South Africa.

“How’s Mimi? I’ve missed that girl,” Evie asked.

“She’s at a friend’s house,” Ellie replied. “How’s baby Danielle?”

“Oh, she’s missed you a lot. She definitely wants you to come visit,” Eve teased.

“Is that so? I’ll see what I can do,” Ellie said, smiling despite herself.

“Now to the juicy part,” Evelyn said mischievously. “How’s Mr. Irresistible?”

“Still irresistible,” Elyon muttered. “And getting bolder.”

“How so?” Eve squealed. “Did he make another move?”

“He always tries to touch me when I’m showing him something in a file. I told him I’d cut off his fingers if he touched me again. And to make things worse, he flat-out told me he wants to sleep with me—and practically forced me to admit I wanted him too.”

“But you like him touching you,” Eve teased knowingly. “Just get with him, girl! You know you want to.”

“Maybe,” Elyon admitted reluctantly. “But I’d rather not become one of his whores. I’m just…happy he doesn’t recognize me.”

Happy—and terrified of the day that luck would run out.

“Why don’t you tell him?” Evie asked.

“No. Definitely not.” Ellie’s voice tightened, heavy with old fear and new dread. “He wouldn’t believe me.”

“Why not? You’d get the best of both worlds.”

“He doesn’t like children, Lyn,” Ellie said bitterly. “I don’t want him to hate Mimi.”

“She’s adorable and likable.” Eve paused, then added, “I’m guessing he’s asked about her father. What did you tell him?”

“What else? That he’s dead,” Ellie mumbled.

“Oh, Ellie…” Eve sighed, the kind reserved for truths that were too heavy to fix. “One of these days, El, the truth will come out—and it won’t be nice.”

Elyon swallowed hard. She knew that. She’d always known. But she still clung to the hope that she could keep the truth buried just a little longer. Maybe a few years…maybe until Miesa was old enough to understand…maybe until she was brave enough.

“Okay, I have to go. Talk to you later,” Evie said. “Danie is awake and screaming her head off.”

“Alright. Take care. Say hi to Greg for me.”

“Will do.” And with that, Eve hung up.

Elyon lowered her phone and sighed again, deeper this time. Evelyn was right—completely right—but the idea of facing Cesari with the truth made her stomach twist painfully. How would he react? What would he say? What would he do?

“He’ll definitely have a coronary if I tell him,” she muttered unhappily.

Her mind drifted, conjuring an image she both feared and yearned for: walking into Cesari’s office dressed in a sky-blue knee-length gown, her hair swept elegantly to the side. She saw the way his eyes would lift from his laptop, widening before he let out a slow appreciative whistle. He did that every single time—never failed.

“You look gorgeous, babe,” he’d say.

“Thank you,” she would murmur, cheeks warming despite herself.

“I love when you do that.” He’d grin, utterly shameless. “It makes little me happy.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Cesar,” she scolded lightly, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

He crooked a finger at her, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Come here, sweetheart.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Well, as they say… if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, then Mohammed will go to the mountain.”

He rose from his chair with predatory grace, circled the desk, and came to stand before her. His presence alone felt like heat. “If only you’d let me fuck you just once, Ellie.” He reached out and brushed her cheek with a tenderness that made her breath hitch.

Elyon swallowed hard and instinctively stepped back, but he caught her around the waist, pulling her flush against him. His arm was firm, possessive—familiar in a way he shouldn’t be.

“What are you doing?” Her hands pressed against his shoulders, a half-hearted attempt to create distance. Her body, however, betrayed her by leaning closer.

“You walk in here looking like this”—his gaze dipped down her figure unapologetically—“and you expect me to do nothing?” He smirked. “It doesn’t work that way, darling.”

He lowered his head and kissed the spot just behind her ear, the one that made her knees wobble. “Just once, Ellie.”

Her resolve wavered dangerously as his lips trailed soft, slow kisses across her cheek, her jaw, her temple. He always did know how to unravel her without even trying.

“Cesar…” She forced the words out before she lost her courage. “I have something to tell you.”

“Is it important?” he murmured against her skin, fingertips brushing the curve of her hips.

“It’s… life-changing.” Her voice trembled almost imperceptibly.

That got his attention. Cesar pulled back slightly, brows furrowing, though his hands didn’t leave her. “For who?”

“You.” Her whisper cracked around the edges. “I’m afraid.”

He stepped away from her fully then, leaning back against the desk and crossing his ankles with practiced nonchalance—though she saw the tension tightening his jaw. “I’m all ears.”

Ellie stared down at her shoes, her heart thudding painfully. “Do you… remember anything about the mysterious lady you… slept with?”

Cesar’s frown deepened. “Just the half-moon tattoo on her back.”

“I see.”

His eyes sharpened. “Why? You know her?”

“Yes.”

A flicker of confusion—and hope—crossed his face. “You… know where she is right now?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” he ordered, voice low, taut.

“You’re looking at her,” she whispered.

For a moment, he simply stared at her—blinking, unmoving, stunned into silence. The disbelief in his eyes was nearly painful.

“I’ll show you,” she added softly. She turned around, gathering her hair over one shoulder. “Unzip me. Please.”

That snapped him out of his shock. He stepped forward, hands suddenly uncertain, and lowered the zipper of her dress. He wished—God, he wished—he were doing this under different circumstances.

Ellie slid the gown down just enough to reveal her waist. “Do you see it?”

Cesar leaned in, breath held. There it was—the small, curved mark he remembered tracing in the dark all those years ago. He touched it before he could stop himself, needing the confirmation of his fingertips. She inhaled sharply, and the sound nearly undid him.

She tugged her dress back up quickly, and he zipped it closed with steady but shaking hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.

Ellie shrugged, helpless. “I don’t know.”

His lips curved into a wicked grin. “You know what this means, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t know. And this is… not all.”

“Oh…kay.” The grin slipped. His instincts sharpened like blades. “What now?”

“Remember when you asked about Mimi’s dad… and I told you he was dead?”

“Yeah.” His voice was flat. He suddenly had a very bad feeling.

“He’s alive. He doesn’t know about her.”

His jaw clenched. “Who is he?”

He braced himself for a name—some faceless man he would hate instantly. The idea of some other man touching her, even years ago, made something vicious coil in his chest.

Ellie finally looked him in the eyes. Her voice was barely above a breath.

“I’m looking at him.”

“Mom!”

Elyon jolted, snapping out of her spiraling thoughts. She blinked rapidly, trying to shove the anxiety back into the corner of her mind as she turned toward her daughter.

Mimi stood by the doorway, staring at her with a puzzled expression—sharp-eyed and perceptive, just like him.

“You’re back,” Elyon exhaled, forcing a small smile.

“You okay? You spaced out,” Miesa said, head tilted, her brows knitted in that worried little frown she got from neither Elyon nor who she might actually belong to—but from life itself.

“I’m fine,” Ellie replied gently. “Dinner’s almost done.”

“Sure,” Mimi drawled, unconvinced. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Wash your hands,” Ellie reminded her automatically.

Mimi groaned under her breath but obeyed, padding off toward the bathroom before heading to her room. The sound of her footsteps faded, leaving the kitchen in heavy silence once more.

Elyon leaned against the counter, her heart thudding as the weight of her earlier thoughts pressed back onto her chest.

Damn… I was so close.

She dragged a trembling hand through her hair. I almost told him. I almost ripped my entire life open right there in his office. She shook her head to dispel the fantasy, but it clung to her like perfume—sweet, impossible, and dangerous.

She closed her eyes.

Now I’ll never know—never know how he’d look at me afterward, how he’d look at her—unless I tell him. Telling him the truth would shatter everything. Not telling him would shatter her eventually.

And that truth terrified her more than anything Cesar Sandoval had ever said or done. She just prayed she could hold the pieces together a little while longer.