Written with Regret (The Regret Duet #1)(21)

She didn’t say a word as she rose to her full height, which wasn’t much compared to my six-four. The true story was told in her pale face and wide eyes, but I had to give her credit. She squared her shoulders before meeting my gaze.

I’d shared one night with that woman. Mere hours. Most of which had been spent in the dark. But I’d never forget what she looked like. However, seeing her then felt like the biggest slap in the face.

Because she was fucking beautiful.

Long, red hair. Creamy, white skin. Bright, green eyes. Subtle freckles across her nose.

She looked just like Rosalee.

And I fucking hated her that much more because of it.

If all was fair in the universe, Rosalee would have had my dark hair, my blue eyes, my olive complexion. But no. Hadley had not done one goddamn thing for that child and still managed to give birth to her perfect clone.

I kept my gaze locked on her as I whispered in Rosalee’s ear, “Go tell Uncle Ian to gather everyone inside so that you can open presents.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, thoroughly thrilled with this turn of events. “Now?”

“Yep.”

She let out a squeal and started wiggling to get down. “I hope I get a ferret!”

I turned, blocking her from Hadley’s reach before setting her down. And even still, I kept a close watch on the woman out of the corner of my eye. “Go, baby. Tell Ian it’s okay if you start without me.”

“It’s present time!” she yelled.

I caught sight of Ian standing only a few feet away, the same confusion and anger ricocheting in my chest showing on his face. He had his phone held to his ear, one arm outstretched to Rosalee, grabbing her only steps after I’d put her down. I didn’t have to say a word before he took off with her toward the house.

Only then did I give that fucking woman my full attention.

Rage brewed inside me, my whole body igniting in fury now that my child was safely out of the mix. With two heavy strides, I closed the distance between us to keep her within arm’s reach. She wasn’t escaping again. I didn’t give the first damn if I had to tackle her to the ground until the cops got there.

I had a million questions for her, starting with, but not limited to, what the fuck she was doing at my house. That could wait though. I didn’t want her in my life, but knowing who she truly was would go a long way in figuring out how to keep her out.

“What’s your name? And don’t fucking lie to me.”

“Caven,” she whispered, giving a slow, awe-filled shake of her head as her eyes filled with tears like I was the phantom, rather than her.

“Answer me!” I boomed. “What is your name?”

Her lashes fluttered shut, not opening for several beats.

Fuck it. If she wasn’t going to answer me, I’d figure it out myself. Kaleidoscope had long since been disabled after a judgment by the Supreme Court. But I didn’t give the first damn if I had to paint her face on every billboard in North America. I was going to figure out who the hell this woman was, and then I was going to make sure she never came near my daughter again.

Bringing my phone up, I snapped a picture of her, the flash sparking only inches from her face.

Her eyes flew open, and she brought a hand up to cover her face. “What the—”

“Your name,” I ordered while continuing to take pictures.

She turned to the side, curtaining off her face with her hair. “Would you stop? You’re going to blind me with that thing.”

I finally put my phone down and leaned in close. “You think I give one single fuck what happens to you? Four years ago, after you’d already robbed me, you handed my daughter off to a prostitute who left her on my doorstep. You left a newborn baby cold, hungry, and alone where any-fucking-thing could have happened to her. You never even looked back. You never tried to contact me. You just fucking disappeared. Then you show up here today, talking to her like you have any right to share her oxygen? Fuck you.” I spat, my chest heaving as I let four years of pent-up rage fly. “Go blind. Go deaf. Fall off a damn cliff. I do not care. But don’t you dare think you are going to drag my daughter into your latest play. She does not exist for you. She will never exist for you. Do you understand?” I was panting by the time I was done, the anger stealing my breath more than my words.

She just stood there. Her shoulders had rounded forward, but I couldn’t see her face because of her hair. Her fucking red hair.

“Say you understand me,” I seethed.

“I understand you,” she replied softly, but not gently. “But I don’t think you understand me.” She lifted her head, her hair falling away, and stared me right in the eyes. “I do exist. And one day, I will exist to her whether you want me to or not. At some point in the not-so-distant future, Keira’s going to want to know who her mother is. And I’m here today because I want to be the one to tell her.”

Keira?

Jesus Christ. Keira.

That little blast from the past lit me on fire.

“Her name is Rosalee, not fucking Keira. You don’t even know your own daughter’s name and you think you deserve a role in her life? You’re delusional.”

Her head snapped back. It may have made me a dick, but I enjoyed every second of her pained expression.

She blinked, devastation crumbling her bravado. “You…you changed her name?”