Page 7 of Captive Bride

“That might not mean he’s my brother.”

“You know, there’s an easy way to figure that out, right?”

He looked up at me. “What?”

"A DNA test," I said, "it's simple, Tristan. If you're so entangled in this knot of doubt and betrayal...why not just unravel it?"

I watched his reaction closely, from the initial surprise that darted across his eyes to the contemplative furrow of his brows. A silence filled the room again, our soft whispers swallowed by the thick air. The idea seemed to bounce around in his mind, like a rubber ball ricocheting off the walls.

“Do you think Kieran would agree to it?” he asked, quietly.

“I don't know," I admitted, "but there's only one way to find out."

Chapter Three: Tristan

Inever imagined Delaware could feel like a sanctuary, but here I was, in the quiet of our suburban hideaway, trying to keep the corners of my mouth hitched up for Adriana and our unborn twins. The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds casting long shadows across the room—a room that had become both my retreat and my cage.

I had stepped away from the nursery to go to the bathroom, and now I wanted to go to the kitchen for a snack.

Something that would have, at any other time in my life, been incredibly simple.

"Adriana," I called out, my voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside. "How are things progressing with the nursery?"

"Almost done," she responded from the next room, her tone laced with that efficiency I'd come to admire and love. I couldpicture her there, her dark hair pulled back as she assessed her handiwork, belly swollen with the promise of our family's future.

I adjusted myself in the chair, the one on wheels I'd become reluctantly accustomed to. A deep breath in, a slow exhale out. I had to stay strong, for her, for them. My hands gripped the armrests, knuckles pale against the dark leather. The physical pain was just white noise compared to the silent scream inside my head—the fear that the numbness in my legs might be a permanent guest.

"Anything I can do to help?" I asked, even though we both knew it was more a gesture than anything else.

"Weren’t you going to go get us drinks?” Adriana asked. “I can do it myself, I…”

“No, you’re good,” I replied. “I got this.”

She didn't have to say it; I saw the unyielding determination in her eyes every time they met mine, reflecting my own resolve like a shield. She believed in me, in us, and I'd be damned if I let uncertainty chip away at that belief.

But when she wasn't looking, when those keen eyes were elsewhere, I allowed myself the briefest moment of vulnerability. The absence of sensation where there should have been life was a void that echoed too loudly in the stillness. I was Tristan Callahan, heir to a legacy where weakness could be a death sentence, yet here I was—fighting the ghost of a sensation that may never return.

"Everything will be fine," I murmured, more to myself than to anyone else. And I clung to that mantra like a lifeline, knowingthat in this game of high stakes, the only move was forward. For Adriana, for our twins.

Even for my fucking empire, which this house was a part of.

The only reason this house existed was to keep our empire safe. And right now, the most important people in my empire were Adriana and the babies.

But there were other people too.

"Kieran," I muttered under my breath, the name tasting like betrayal on my tongue. The DNA test — it had been burning a hole in my mind since the day we found out about Bellamy. Since…everything had happened.

Should I call him? Part of me yearned for answers, for some semblance of family beyond the empire's shadow. I missed him, but I didn’t want him to see me like this.

And anger, that seething bedfellow, held me back. Could I really reach out after everything?

I gripped the wheels of my chair, steeling myself for the task ahead. Just going to get a snack.

Simple enough.

That's when I saw it—the small set of stairs leading down to the sunken living room. They might as well have been Everest. Each step represented an obstacle, a mountain to climb without the use of my legs.

It was like my brain kept erasing the existence of these, even though they had been an obstacle ever since we’d gotten here.

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