Page 151 of Ruthless Claim

Leo rolls his eyes as he drops the diaper bag on the hall chair. “She saw Seraphina yesterday.”

“Yes,” my mother agrees, “and that was already too long.” She crosses the room and expertly and quickly undoes the straps of the car seat to lift up the baby.

All I see is a shock of dark brown hair that’s still untamable and a tiny body clad in a pink sleeper.

Seraphina makes a small sound and resettles against my mother’s shoulder, still sleeping.

My mother closes her eyes in bliss before she zeroes in on my brother. “Leo, come help me in the kitchen.”

Leo’s brows furrow and he glances at me and his wife. “I don’t need⁠—”

“I didn’t ask what you need,” my mother says firmly, already heading down the hall with the baby and leaving no room whatsoever for discussion. “Come.”

Leo looks at us helplessly, but Emma shoos him. “You heard your mother,” she tells him. “Shoo. Valentina and I need to talk.”

Leo sighs but I can tell he wants to say something and is deciding whether this is the correct moment. From the irritated look on his face, he decides it isn’t. But he dutifully follows our mother and disappears, leaving Emma and me alone.

Emma watches them go before turning her attention on me.

“I’m so fucking pissed,” she seethes, her green eyes flashing with anger.

“You didn’t have to come,” I tell her, feeling bad she came here. I’m sure they had better things to do.

She waves me off. “I am exactly where I need to be.” She sits down next to me and takes my hand. “Tell me everything.”

So I tell her.

One of the things I love most about Emma is how much of an open book she is.

She can’t hide her feelings for shit. She scowls when I tell her about Claire and laughs at my snarky responses back to her. When I get to the result she says, quietly, “fuck,” and when I describe the hallway and Cillian’s face she presses her lips together hard.

When I finish, she is quiet for a moment.

“You love him.”

“Yes,” I sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“Then you need to decide if you’re staying,” she says sharply. “Now. Not in a few weeks after you’ve convinced yourself you don’t. Now.” She leans in, her face serious. “Because every day you push him away is a day Claire gets to step into the space you’re leaving. She gets to be the one who understands. Who shares his son. Who’s there when he needs someone.” She looks at me steadily. “She’s already been setting that up. You know she has.”

It’s basically exactly what my mother told me. Did she and Emma speak in advance?

I pull my hand away from Emma and wrap them around myself. “I am aware of this.”

Emma bites her lip, looking as if she wants to say something but isn’t sure.

“Go on,” I tell her. “What’s on your mind?”

“That DNA test,” she says slowly.

“What about it?” I really don’t want to talk about that ever again.

“Listen to me.” She leans forward. “That result came back in two days. The counselor said three to five business days. Two days is fast, Val. And the result was…” She shakes her head slightly. “How convenient.”

I stare at her, not comprehending what she’s saying.

“Claire tracked down Cillian from a first name and a few weeks nine years ago. She showed up at your apartment while he was conveniently out.” She raises a brow. It’s all information I’ve been stewing about but finding no good explanations for. “And now the test comes back in two days, conclusively saying Cillian is the father.” She shakes her head. “How many times have we been told that nothing should be taken at face value in our world?”

I freeze, slowly looking up at her, my heart pounding.