Tears Of Pain
The scientist adjusted his glasses, flipping through the report in his hand.
Rowan sat across from him, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The anticipation clawed at his insides, but he refused to show it.
“We ran the test as quickly as possible,” the scientist began, clearing his throat. “Given the time that has passed since the sample was taken, we must emphasize that—”
“Spare me the disclaimers,” Rowan cut in, voice clipped. “Just tell me the results.”
The scientist hesitated, then exhaled. “Fine. The DNA traces found on your suit match another sample already in our system.”
Rowan’s stomach tightened.
“Who?” he asked, his voice steady but dangerously low.
The scientist flipped a page. “Dr. Remi Laurent.”
Everything inside Rowan stilled.
It was her.
She had been there.
His breath left him in a slow exhale.
He had expected this. Had known it, deep down.
But hearing it confirmed?
It hit differently.
His fingers curled into fists on his lap. “And?”
The scientist hesitated again, flipping to the last page of the report.
Then he lifted his gaze, meeting Rowan’s eyes carefully.
“…There’s more.”
Rowan frowned. “More?”
The scientist inhaled. “Mr. Vaughn, there were two additional DNA traces on the suit.”
Rowan’s pulse spiked.
Two.
The scientist continued, “We cross-checked them with existing medical records, and—” He pushed a second document toward Rowan.
Rowan snatched it up, his eyes scanning over the details.
And then—
He froze.
His chest stopped moving.
His breath caught.
Paternity Test Results
Larry Laurent—99.99% match.
Laura Laurent—99.99% match.
Rowan’s vision blurred for a second.
He blinked. Reread it.
Again.
And again.
No.
No, that wasn’t—
That wasn’t possible.
He hadn’t—
He never—
The scientist kept talking, but Rowan wasn’t listening anymore.
His mind had gone blank.
Two.
Two children.
His children.
And Remi—
Remi had kept them from him.
His hands shook.
His entire world tilted.
He had kids.
Twins.
And he had spent the last seven years not knowing.
The words blurred in front of him.
His chest ached, lungs tightening as if something was wrapped around them, squeezing.
His.
His children.
His entire world tilted, crumbling beneath him, and for the first time in years, he had no control.
The scientist was still talking. Rowan could see his mouth moving, could hear something about DNA accuracy, legal confirmations—
None of it mattered.
Not when the truth was sitting right there in front of him.
Larry Laurent—99.99% match.
Laura Laurent—99.99% match.
Rowan gripped the papers so tightly that the edges crumpled.
He didn’t realize he had stopped breathing until his body forced him to inhale sharply, a ragged breath that burned his throat.
Remi.
She had kept this from him.
For seven years.
Seven years where he had been completely unaware that his children—his twins—had existed.
He pushed back from the table abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. The scientist flinched at the sudden movement, but Rowan didn’t care.
Without another word, he turned and walked out.
—
Rowan drove.
Aimlessly.
The city lights blurred past him, the sound of his tires humming against the road. He barely knew where he was going, his grip on the wheel tight enough to hurt.
His mind was screaming.
Flashes of the past few months ran through his head—Remi’s avoidance, the way she had always looked at him with something unreadable in her eyes, the twins’ strange familiarity, Laura clinging to him, calling him handsome uncle—
It had been right in front of him.
Right there.
And he hadn’t seen it.
Didn’t remember.
His fingers trembled. His whole body trembled.
And then—
His car slowed.
He didn’t even register the familiar street until he was already there.
His headlights illuminated the house in front of him.
Remi’s house.
The lights were off, the curtains drawn. It was late—too late—but Rowan didn’t move.
Didn’t step out.
Didn’t even turn the engine off.
He just sat there.
Staring.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened.
He should go in.
Should demand answers.
Should wake her up and make her explain why she had taken his children and raised them without him.
But—
He couldn’t move.
His heart was pounding.
Because the truth was—
Rowan wasn’t sure what he would do if he saw her right now.
He wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep himself together.
His jaw locked.
After everything…
After everything he had been through, all the pieces of his life that had been hidden from him—
He still wasn’t sure who to blame.
Remi?
His family?
Himself?
He exhaled sharply, his fingers loosening on the wheel.
Then, slowly—he reversed the car.
And drove away.
—
Rowan didn’t know how far he drove.
Didn’t know how much time passed.
But when he finally stopped, it was in an empty parking lot overlooking the city.
His chest heaved, his pulse roaring in his ears.
And then—
A sharp, overwhelming pressure built inside him.
A pressure that had been suffocating him for months.
For years.
He slammed his fist against the dashboard.
Hard.
Then again.
And again.
And again.
The pain didn’t register.
It didn’t matter.
Because nothing could hurt more than the betrayal crashing over him.
His own fucking life had been hidden from him.
His marriage.
His children.
Everything had been taken, stolen from his memory, from his grasp and he had been the cause of it.
It was his fault.
“My fault.” He growled in anger. “MY FUCKING FAULT!” HE SCREAMED.
He punched the steering wheel so hard the horn blared, echoing into the night.
His breath was ragged, his head pounding.
And then—
Something warm slipped down his cheek.
Rowan froze.
He lifted a trembling hand, brushing his fingers against his face.
Tears.
He was crying.
He couldn’t even remember the last time he had.
His throat tightened, his chest aching in a way that had nothing to do with his bruised knuckles.
He let his head fall back against the seat, eyes staring at the dark ceiling.
For the first time in years, he felt helpless.
Completely.
Utterly.
Helpless.
And he had no idea what the fuck to do next.
*****
The room was dark.
Only a dim, flickering light from an old chandelier illuminated the space, casting long shadows across the cracked walls.
Gigi exhaled, adjusting the fur coat draped over her shoulders. The air was stale, thick with the scent of damp wood and something rotten beneath it.
She hated coming here.
But she didn’t have a choice.
Not after everything.
Not after Rowan humiliated her.
Her heels clicked against the dusty floor as she walked further inside. “You’re late.”
A voice, low and amused, answered from the darkness. “You sound impatient.”
She resisted the shiver that ran down her spine.
A figure stepped forward, barely visible in the dim lighting.
She couldn’t see his face clearly—only the vague outline of broad shoulders, a crooked stance, a shadow where his features should be.
But she knew who he was.
And she hated him.
Still—
She smiled.
Because she needed him.
Gigi stepped closer, pressing her hands against his chest. “You’re the only one who can help me now.”
A low chuckle. “I told you this would happen.”
Her teeth clenched. She didn’t need the reminder.
“I have money,” she whispered instead, tilting her head up.
A pause.
Then, his fingers brushed along her waist, gripping tightly.
Money wasn’t what he wanted.
Her stomach churned.
She already knew what she had to do.
She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.
His hand tightened on her waist, pulling her closer.
She fought the u
rge to gag.
His mouth was rough, the scent of cheap alcohol clinging to his breath.
It took everything in her not to recoil.
The man hummed, deep and satisfied, trailing a hand down her back. “That’s more like it.”
She forced herself to smile. “So, do we have a deal?”
A long pause.
Then—
“Let’s talk.”
Gigi exhaled in relief, stepping back slightly.
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