Chapter 62 What if Rowan is Your Own Flesh and Blood?
"Blaise! He kisses better than you, a thousand times better."
Darian was infuriated by her answer.
"Very well then."
There was darkness in Darian's eyes, and Cecily uttered a sound when her lips felt the heat of an angry, frenzied kiss crashing onto her.
He bit and gnawed as if to punish her, determined to inflict pain.
Darian didn't understand what he was thinking at that moment. This woman had infuriated him time and time again—it was five years ago that she had cruelly caused the death of Ophelia's child. He despised her.
Yet even though he hated her, he wouldn't allow any other man to touch her.
Blaise was out of the question! No man was allowed. She was his wife, for life, and even if hatred was all there was, her heart could only belong to him.
Darian couldn't understand why he felt such a strong desire for this crazy woman. Just last night, when he saw Blaise kiss her, he even felt a surge of rage so intense that he wanted to run Blaise over with his car.
Yet, he had managed to restrain himself. The consequence was that he drank all night, his anger still simmering.
"Move the hell over, I can't see," he growled.
"Hayden, you're the one hogging the space. I can't see a damn thing," the other complained.
The two men at the door were pushing each other when suddenly one of them lurched forward and they both tumbled in.
"Shit! That's gotta hurt!" one of them exclaimed between the chaos.
At the noise, Cecily pushed even harder against Darian's shoulders. However, Darian, as if deaf to the commotion, wrapped an arm around her and assertively pinned her down again.
His large palm pressed against the back of her head, deepening their kiss without restraint.
Cecily thought him to be downright mad. Though the main door wasn't right in front of the bed, with a living room in between, how could he just ignore those two men outside?
After having his fill of the kiss, Darian's dark eyes locked intently onto the woman in his arms, pleased by the flush on her cheeks.
He stood up, satiated like a beast, his gaze finally noticing the intruders at the door, sweeping over them with a chill sharp as a blade.
Hayden and Declan felt the threat from afar, and they scampered out like monkeys.
Cecily's face went from blushing to her neck, and she stood up, ready to throw a punch at Darian.
Darian just turned around, seeing her teary-eyed and fist-raised, and lazily smiled, "You want to hit me?"
Cecily, with indignation dropping her fist, asked, "Why don't you ever consider anyone else's feelings?"
"I'm sick," he declared, "Seriously sick. In your eyes, haven't I always been a 'mental case' anyway? How can a lunatic consider anyone else's feelings?"
His logic was maddeningly sound.
He had turned her own words against her again.
Darian gave a slight smile, sat on the couch, and poured himself a drink, taking a sip to savor it before inquiring, "So, what do you want to talk about?"
Darian raised an eyebrow, giving her a quick once-over, "Changed your mind about talking?"
Cecily wiped her mouth and said, "Of course I'm going to talk. Why wouldn't I?"
Then, Cecily placed a photograph in front of Darian.
The moment Darian saw the photo, his pupils visibly constricted. "How do you have a picture of Rowan?" he demanded.
"Don't worry about how I got this picture, Darian. Even if you hate me, there's no need to take it out on my child." Cecily's eyes dropped, her expression cooling significantly.
Clutching the photo, the softening of Darian's features suddenly gave way to a more sinister look. "So you finally admit that kid is yours? Not pretending anymore?"
"What am I pretending? I'm asking you, why would you punish a child? He's only five years old. What could he have possibly done that deserves punishment? You hate me, so take it out on me instead."
"You think I'm the one who punished the child?"
"Isn't it you?"
In that household, his word was law. Even if he hadn't given the order directly, would anyone dare treat Rowan that way without his consent?
Darian scoffed, his face contorting with disgust, and he let out a bitter laugh.
Facing Cecily's accusations, he felt exceptionally irked. What right did a woman who abandoned her child have to challenge him?
"So what if I did punish him? His last name is now Fitzgerald. He has nothing to do with you, Cecily. Even if I punished him, it's none of your business."
Cecily couldn't believe Darian could utter such shameless words. "He is the child I carried for nine months. I have no right to inquire about his well-being?"
Darian looked at Cecily with derision. It was she who had abandoned the child, and now she was the one questioning him about that very child.
What sort of motherly act was she putting on?
If she truly loved the child, how could she have heartlessly left him behind?
Rage brewed in Darian's eyes. "Yes, from the moment you faked your death and left him on the Fitzgeralds' doorstep, you lost all your rights."
Cecily's heart jolted.
"No," she interjected vehemently, "I didn't abandon the child."
Her child was more important to her than her own life. How could she possibly bear to abandon him?
As to why the child had ended up on the Fitzgeralds' doorstep, she genuinely didn't know.
"No?"
"Darian, whether you believe me or not, I didn't abandon the child. I don't know what's happened here, but now I'm begging you—if you don't love him, if you despise him, then please give him back to me. I'll take him and we'll leave. I promise we'll never show our faces to you again, just give him back to me."
"Don't even think about it."
It was Cecily who had abandoned them in the first place, and now she wanted to come back? Life didn't work that way.
Darian loomed over Cecily, his voice cold as he continued, "Cecily, there's no way I'm giving you the child. I'm warning you—stay away from Rowan, and don't even dream of taking him away. Otherwise, don't blame me for being unpleasant."
Cecily's face turned pale, memories of certain photographs causing her heart to twist in pain. "Why? To get back at me?"
"Because you don't deserve to be his mother."
Darian stood with ruthless composure, ready to leave, when Cecily's indifferent voice halted him. "Darian."
He paused in his stride.
Cecily, staring at him, asked, "If you've never believed Rowan is your child, if you despise him so much, why do you keep him with you?"
"That's my business."
Cecily’s lips twitched in frustration, conceding, "Fine, if you're going to keep him with you, please take good care of him—if you truly intend to."
"I don't need you to say it."
He prided himself on providing Rowan with only the best, never neglecting the boy's needs.
As for the corporal punishment Cecily hinted at, a frost seemed to spread over Darian's already icy expression.
Who would dare punish his child?
Fuelled by rising anger, Darian was about to storm off when Cecily, suppressing her own rage, called out once more. "Darian, if I tell you the child is your own flesh and blood, would you be able to treat him better?"
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