Page 100 of His Wild Attraction

Twelve.

Fuck.

What was taking so long?

I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I understood my husband, but I knew he cared about Sammy. Even if he was only in this to get his hands on the company.

Mad or not about the high-handed way he’d dismissed me from the room, I believed Andres would do anything in his power to protect my son.

“You know he doesn’t care about the kid, right?” Gary’s wife spoke up.

“Excuse me?” I asked, stunned and a little wary.

“Your kid. Gary doesn’t care about him. And he has no claim either.”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Oh my God, are you this stupid? You guys went to a fertility clinic, right?” she asked, enunciating slowly, like I was some idiot.

“Yeah. But how did you know about that?” I asked.

Yes, it was true, I did go to a fertility clinic. But it wasn’t something I thought about a lot.

Gary had problems performing in bed with me. Like since day one. I was so damn green at the time, I believed it was my fault.

But we’d both wanted a child, or at least, I’d wanted a child. So yeah, I agreed to go to a reproductive specialist.

Gary had been adamant I kept that part of our journey to parenthood a secret.

He didn’t want my father to think he wasn’t man enough to impregnate his only daughter.

A fertility clinic had been the best answer to get the job done.

“You really are naïve, aren’t you? Gary had a vasectomy when he was in his twenties. That kid is not his. He can’t be,” she said, rolling her eyes after dropping that bomb on me.

“What?” I gasped, horror pouring into me.

“He paid off the fertility doctor. Gary paid him off and made the man lie for him. Whoever your sperm donor was, it wasn’t Gary. He only shoots blanks,” she informed me.

Thunder roared inside my ears, and I was deaf, dumb, and blind to everything other than the bomb going off inside me.

Sammy wasn’t Gary’s son.

The truth was so damn obvious. He looked nothing like the man. Was nothing like him.

It all made sense.

Gary’s coldness. His indifference.

He never cared about Sammy. Only pretended interest when my father was alive.

“W-why are you telling me this?” I asked, still holding on to a sliver of doubt.

If she was lying, I would kill her myself. This was too much. More than I hoped for.

It was everything.

“Because I told him! I told Gary if he tried hitting me the way he hit you, I would destroy him. He didn’t believe me, but that’s his problem. Excuse me, my ride is here,” the future ex-Mrs. Peters said.

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