Sinful Obsession: Chapter 14

The evening wrapped the house in a quiet cocoon.

I’d picked Asher and Aria up from kindergarten.

Now, the kitchen was warm with the aroma of chicken kiev, its golden crust glistening beside creamy mashed potatoes— one of their favorites.

I served their plates, ruffling Asher’s hair as he reached for a fork, and ensured Aria ate before retreating to my bedroom, exhaustion tugging at my bones.

I’d barely collapsed onto the bed when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

The screen lit up with an unfamiliar number, but my gut twisted with certainty: Cassian.

His persistence was relentless.

I stared at the glowing digits, my thumb hovering over the decline button.

Let him call.

I wasn’t ready to face him. I silenced the phone and let sleep pull me under, a merciful escape.

Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains, pulling me out of sleep.

I reached for my phone, and my stomach dropped when I saw the screen: 109 missed calls.

My mouth fell open.

Had he even slept at all?

The endless calls said more than words could—Cassian Moretti wasn’t the kind of man who let go, and this was proof of it. His obsession clung to me like a shadow.

I pushed the dread aside and forced myself into the rhythm of the morning.

Breakfast for the twins, their cheerful voices filling the kitchen as they argued about which cartoon character was better. Then the drive to kindergarten, their little hands waving excitedly from the car window while I smiled back, hiding the storm inside me.

Work should have been my escape, but as soon as I walked into the office, the normal steady hum of typing and phone calls was gone.

In its place was restless chatter. Small groups of staff huddled together, whispering, papers stacked untouched on desks, half-drunk coffee cups going cold.

The disorder scraped against my nerves.

Usually, I kept to myself here.

My twins were the only ones who truly knew me. But today curiosity pulled me toward Jenna, one of the few coworkers I could stand. She was a bright-eyed marketing assistant, always quick with gossip and never without a story to tell.

“What’s going on?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Shouldn’t everyone be prepping for the day?”

Jenna leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “A new buyer just took over the company. We’ve got a new boss—new CEO, actually.”

My stomach dropped.

Five years I’d worked here, climbing the ranks in project management, watching the company rake in profits.

Why would the owner sell now?

Before I could press further, a commotion erupted behind me.

I turned to see Viktor, my department head, striding forward alongside the COO, Margaret Hensley, and the CFO, David Ruiz. Their faces were tight, professional masks barely concealing unease.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Margaret began, her voice cutting through the murmurs. “As detailed in the email sent this morning, we have a new owner and CEO. Please welcome Mr. Cassian Moretti.”

The world tilted.

The air left my lungs.

No. No, it couldn’t be—

My eyes locked on the figure stepping forward, and there he was—Cassian, in a tailored black suit that hugged his broad shoulders, the fabric catching the light with a subtle sheen.

His dark hair was swept back, accentuating the sharp angles of his face, and his eyes, those piercing blue eyes, radiated power and danger.

A silver watch gleamed at his wrist, and his posture—commanding, unyielding—made the room feel smaller, as if he owned every inch of it.

“Oh my God, he’s gorgeous!” Jenna squealed beside me, her voice barely hushed.

“Look at that jawline,” whispered Sarah from accounting, fanning herself dramatically. “I’d let him ruin my life.”

“Tall, hot, and probably loaded,” added Mia from HR, giggling. “I’m volunteering for overtime in his office.”

Their chatter grated, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from Cassian.

His gaze found mine, and a slow, predatory smirk curled his lips, sending a shiver down my spine.

He addressed the room, his voice smooth and authoritative, outlining vague plans for “growth” and “efficiency” before dismissing us with a wave.

The staff dispersed, buzzing with excitement, but I stood frozen, my mind racing.

He’d bought the company I worked for?

Why?

What game was he playing?

I tried to focus on my tasks, but my hands trembled as I sorted through project files.

An hour later, the internal phone on my desk rang, Margaret’s voice crisp on the line. “Charlotte, report to the CEO’s office. Now.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I hung up, my fingers lingering on the receiver as dread coiled in my gut.

Standing, I smoothed my blouse, forcing composure into my posture despite the panic screaming inside me.

The walk to the top floor felt endless, each step echoing in the sterile hallway.

At the CEO’s office door, a polished mahogany slab with “Cassian Moretti” already etched on a nameplate, I paused.

My hand shook as I gripped the handle, the cold metal grounding me for a moment before I pushed the door open.

Cassian sat behind a massive desk, the city skyline sprawling through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him.

He looked every bit the king, leaning back in his leather chair, one hand resting on a stack of files, the other tapping a pen with deliberate rhythm.

“Charlotte,” he said, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Close the door.”

I stepped inside, letting the door click shut, and dropped all pretense. “Cassian, what the hell are you doing?”

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, his smirk widening. “Showing you that with money, you can have anything you want.”

I dragged the chair opposite him back and sat, crossing my arms. “Okay, boss. I’m here. What do you want?”

His expression darkened. “I had someone investigate the grave you claimed the kids were buried in. It was a lie, Charlotte. Two elderly people, not children. Why are you hiding the truth?”

My blood ran cold.

I’d never expected him to dig that deep, to question the story I’d spun to keep Asher and Aria safe from his world.

“You’re everywhere, Cassian,” I snapped, leaning forward. “You’re suffocating me, mentally and emotionally. I hate you for this.”

His jaw tightened, but his gaze softened, just for a moment. “Where are my kids?”

“Your kids?” I scoffed, my voice sharp with defiance. “You don’t even know if they’re yours.”

“Don’t tell me they’re with another man,” he growled. “You know what I’m capable of.”

I held his stare. “Is there anything work-related you called me for? Or are you just here to play detective?”

“You’ll speak to your boss with respect,” he said, his tone icy.

I laughed bitterly, standing so fast the chair scraped against the floor. “Respect? I’ve got millions in my account, Cassian. I don’t need this job—or you. I’m resigning.”

“Charlotte!” he called as I stormed toward the door, his voice sharp, then softer. “Charlotte, wait.”

I didn’t look back, my pulse thundering as I returned to my desk.

The job had been my anchor, a slice of normalcy amidst the chaos of my life, but with Cassian as CEO, that joy would curdle into dread.

I opened my laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as I drafted my resignation letter, each word a release of pent-up fury.

I printed it, the paper crisp in my hands, and marched to Viktor’s office, the protocol for resignations.

Viktor looked up from his cluttered desk, surprise flickering across his boyish features. “Charlotte, what’s this?”

I slid the letter across his desk. “My resignation. I can’t stay here.”

He scanned the letter, his brow furrowing. “Is this because your ex is the new boss?”

I stiffened, caught off guard. “I never said he was my ex. But yes, Cassian Moretti is why I’m leaving. I can’t work under him.”

Viktor leaned back, sighing. “Babe, we’ve got multiple high-stakes projects—your team’s leading three of them. If you leave now, it’ll be chaos. No one can pick up your work midstream.”

Before I could respond, the door swung open, and Cassian’s presence filled the room like a storm cloud.

My heart sank, my fingers curling into fists.

He glanced at the letter on Viktor’s desk, his expression unreadable. “What’s this about resigning?”

Viktor hesitated, then gestured to the letter. “Charlotte’s stepping down, sir. But per her employment contract, section 4.2, the company reserves the right to delay acceptance of a resignation for up to nine months to ensure project continuity and knowledge transfer. After that period, the resignation is automatically valid.”

I clenched my fists, rage simmering beneath my skin. Trapped again—by paperwork, of all things. “That’s ridiculous,” I snapped. “I’m done here.”

Cassian’s eyes flicked to Viktor, his voice sharp. “And why are you calling her ‘babe,’ Viktor?”

Viktor paled, stammering. “Sir, I—It was a slip. And about our first meeting… I owe you an apology. I was only looking out for Charlotte—the way I do for all my staff.”

Cassian’s gaze darkened, pinning Viktor like a predator. “Or you have feelings for her.”

Viktor shook his head, then froze, his shoulders slumping. “Fine, sir. I do have feelings for her. I can’t control that. And it’s clear you do too, but she’s obviously not into you anymore.”

I stood frozen, caught between Viktor’s reckless confession and Cassian’s barely restrained fury.

Who the hell gave Viktor the audacity to challenge a man like Cassian Moretti?

He might think Cassian was just some polished billionaire CEO, but I’d seen the truth—Cassian was a mafia kingpin, his hands stained with blood, his power absolute.

Men like him didn’t negotiate; they eradicated.

Cassian stalked to Viktor’s desk, his movements deliberate.

His gaze swept over the cluttered files, spreadsheets pinned under coffee mugs, and half-finished proposals—Viktor’s fifteen years of work laid bare.

The company relied on him; his client relationships were its backbone. Any rational leader would see his value. But Cassian wasn’t rational, not when it came to me.

“You’re fired,” Cassian said, his voice a lethal blade.

Viktor’s face crumpled, his eyes flickering to the stacks of work as if they could shield him. “Sir, this is a mistake. No one can step into my role without disrupting major accounts. I’ve built trust with clients over years—you can’t just—”

Cassian cut him off, his expression unyielding. “Stay away from Charlotte. She’s mine—always has been. This is your only warning. If I see you near her again, I’ll kill you. Test me, and find out.”

Viktor’s mouth opened, then closed, his bravado crumbling under Cassian’s stare. “You’re tearing the company apart on day one,” he stammered, “all because of some delusion about a woman who doesn’t want you.”

Cassian’s fist clenched, knuckles whitening, and for a moment, I thought he’d lunge across the desk and end Viktor right there. Instead, he pulled out his phone, his voice cold as he spoke into it. “Security, get this nuisance out. Now.”

The door burst open, and two burly guards stormed in, their faces impassive.

Viktor’s protests rose, sharp and desperate. “This is insane! I’ll sue the company—you can’t fire me for doing my job!” As they dragged him out, his voice faded down the hall: “Mr. Cassian, think this through… You’ll never have her…”

Cassian turned to me, his eyes softening, but only slightly, like a predator lowering its claws but not its guard. “I don’t want to suffocate you, Charlotte. You know that, right?”

I crossed my arms, my voice sharp with defiance. “That’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re everywhere—my work, my life, my head.”

“You didn’t answer my calls last night,” he said, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to talk to you,” I snapped. “Get it through your head: we’re done. Six years apart, and now you think you can just barge back into my life? I need distance, Cassian, not your power plays.”

He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You can’t quit yet. Your contract locks you in for nine months post-resignation notice. You’re stuck with me—at least at work.”

My blood boiled. “You are disgusting.”

He paused, his expression flickering with something like hurt. “You hate me that much?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice trembling. “You sent me away, abandoned me for years, and now you’re trying to control me again. It’s too late, Cassian. Stop this.”

He studied me for a long moment, then straightened, his tone shifting to cold authority. “You’ll report to my office three times daily—morning, after lunch, and before you leave. You’re taking over Viktor’s role as department head. Review his projects, pick up every thread. I want nothing left undone. If you falter or show incompetence, I’ll demote you to an entry-level position. You’ll be a laughingstock to everyone you used to outrank until those three months are up.”

He turned and strode toward the door, pausing only to add, “Don’t test me, Charlotte.” Then he was gone, leaving me in the suffocating silence of Viktor’s office.

I sank into the chair, my hands trembling as I gripped the armrests.

Viktor’s cologne lingered on the leather, a cloying reminder of the chaos Cassian had just unleashed.

I couldn’t work here, not with Viktor’s scent tainting the air.

The office would need to be gutted—new furniture, new paint, anything to erase this day.

But more than that, I had to protect my twins.

Cassian could control my job, my movements, but my kids were my line in the sand. He could never know about them.

Hours later, I maneuvered my car through the city’s afternoon traffic, the hum of the engine a faint comfort as I headed to pick up Asher and Aria from kindergarten.

My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror every few seconds, half-expecting to see one of Cassian’s sleek black cars tailing me.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, willing my nerves to settle.

My phone buzzed inside my purse.

When I pulled it out and saw the school’s number flashing on the screen, my stomach plummeted. I answered on the first ring, dread already clawing at my chest.

“Mrs. Charlotte,” the teacher’s voice came, tight with urgency, “there’s been an incident with your children.”

“What happened?” I asked, my heart racing as I swerved into the next lane, accelerating.

“Aria drew a love emoji on a Maybach parked outside the school, and Asher painted over it, damaging the vehicle. The owner is a powerful man, and his assistant is demanding compensation—or they’ll take legal action against the parents.”

My breath caught.

My kids—always so spirited, but this? “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I said, ending the call and pressing the gas harder.

Repairing a car was no issue; the money I’d taken from Cassian’s card six years ago was still sitting in my account, more than enough to cover any damage.

But the thought of who they’d crossed—a “powerful man,” the teacher had said—sent a chill down my spine.

In this city, “powerful” often meant dangerous, and with Cassian already tightening his grip, I couldn’t afford another enemy.

The school’s parking lot was nearly empty when I pulled in.

Most parents had already picked up their kids, leaving the grounds eerily quiet.

I spotted the teacher, Mrs. Grayson, standing beside the principal, both looking grim. “Where are my kids?” I demanded, my voice sharper than intended.

Mrs. Grayson pointed toward a sleek black Maybach parked near the playground, its glossy surface marred by streaks of red paint and a crudely drawn heart. “They’re with the owner,” she said.

I hurried toward the car, my heart pounding.

Asher and Aria stood by the vehicle, their small faces pale, eyes wide with fear.

No one else was there—no assistant, no owner. Relief flickered, but it was short-lived. A voice to my left froze me in place.

“Boss, thank God you’re here,” a man said, his tone agitated. “Some brats scribbled nonsense on your car. I’ve already notified the school—we’re suing their parents.”

The “boss” he addressed was engrossed in his phone, his back to me. Then he spoke, and the world tilted. “Good.”

The assistant hesitated. “But the kids—“

Cassian’s head snapped up, irritation flashing in his eyes. “What about the kids? You didn’t lay a hand on them, did you? Because I’ll put a bullet in you if you even thought about it.’

The assistant’s voice trembled. “Boss, those kids… they look like you.”

Cassian froze, his gaze shifting to the Maybach.

My heart stopped.

I bolted from where I’d been eavesdropping, my sneakers pounding the pavement as I reached Asher and Aria.

I grabbed their hands, ignoring their startled gasps, and pulled them toward my car, my pulse roaring in my ears.

“Let’s go, now,” I whispered, my voice shaking as I shoved them into the backseat, buckling them in with frantic hands.

I slammed the door and turned, only to find Cassian standing mere feet away, his eyes locked on me, then flicking to the twins.

His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver through me. “Charlotte,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “Whose kids are those?”

“How long have you been hiding them from me?” he demanded, his voice low but laced with a dangerous edge. “Pretending they’re dead? Did you think I’d just accept that?”

I tightened my grip on the car door, my knuckles whitening. “I don’t want them near you. They’ve lived five years without you, Cassian. They don’t need you now.”

His jaw clenched, but his eyes softened, a flicker of pain breaking through his iron facade. “If I’m their father, it’s not about what they need—it’s about what I need. I want a DNA sample from them before I leave. Get it for me if you’re too scared to introduce them to a ‘stranger.’”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting.

Denying it would only fuel his suspicion, and a DNA test would confirm what I already knew.

Swallowing my fear, I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling as I opened the gallery and shoved it toward him. “There’s no need for a test. They’re yours.”

Cassian’s eyes widened as he scrolled through photos—Aria’s gap-toothed grin at her birthday, Asher’s paint-smeared face from an art class.

His expression crumpled, a raw sadness etching lines into his face.

He handed the phone back, shutting his eyes as if the weight of regret was too much to bear.

“I deserve this,” he said quietly, his voice steady but heavy with regret.

“You do,” I replied, my tone cutting. “You didn’t believe me then. You cast me aside.”

He held my gaze, the sharp edges of his expression softened by something raw, almost vulnerable. “Charlotte… I can’t undo the past. But I can fight for what’s left of us. Don’t shut me out of their lives. Give me that chance—and I swear, I’ll never doubt you again.”

“No,” I snapped, stepping closer, my voice trembling with defiance. “I’ve given you everything I could—suffered, bent, endured—but not this. Not them. And you yourself said you’re dying, didn’t you? What’s the point of tearing open their world for a father who’ll vanish in a few months?”

The words landed like a blow, and I saw the hurt flash across his face, his shoulders slumping.

But I pressed on, desperate to keep him at bay. “I carried them alone for nine months, raised them for five years. I know for a fact I don’t want you in their lives.”

His silence was deafening, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “So you want them to grow up without a father?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice softer now, “but I’ve managed this long without you. They’re better off.”

“Go,” I said, my voice firm. “And stay away from their school.”

I turned to the driver’s seat, my hands shaking as I climbed in.

Through the rearview mirror, I saw Cassian standing there, his silhouette broken, like a man unraveling.

Asher and Aria stared out the window, their small faces pressed against the glass.

“Asher, that man looks like you,” Aria said, her voice bright with curiosity.

“Right,” Asher agreed, tilting his head. “Even his lips—kinda like yours.”

My heart skipped, their words slicing through me.

I gripped the steering wheel, forcing a neutral tone. “What man?”

“The one you were arguing with,” Asher said, his voice louder. “By the car.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing for a lie. “That was the man whose car you drew on. I was begging him not to sue us, that’s all. And you two better stop messing with people’s cars—you’ll get us in trouble.”

Aria frowned, undeterred. “But why does he look like us?”

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice tight. “Just… drop it.”

“I’ll look into him,” Asher whispered to Aria, his tone conspiratorial.

I bit back a retort. Look into him? They were five years old—how could they even try?

But the thought of them digging, of Cassian getting closer, sent a chill through me.

Three hours later, I was home, the twins sprawled on the living room rug, building a fort out of blankets and pillows.

The house smelled of warm vanilla from a candle I’d lit to calm my nerves.

A sharp knock at the door startled me, and I froze, half-expecting Cassian. Instead, I opened it to find two men in crisp suits, their expressions stern and official.

“Charlotte Grayson?” the taller one asked, holding up a badge. “We’re from Kessler & Associates, representing Cassian Moretti. You’ve been served with a summons and complaint for a child custody hearing.”

My blood ran cold as he handed me a thick envelope, the paper heavy with legal weight. “The petition seeks joint custody of the minor children, Asher and Aria Grayson, filed under Family Code Section 3120, with a hearing scheduled for November 12, at the Moscow City Court. You’re required to respond within seven days, or a default judgment may be entered.”

I forced my voice steady, though my hands shook. “This is absurd. He can’t just—”

“Ma’am, we’re just delivering the documents,” the second lawyer said, his tone clipped. “You’ll need to address your concerns in court or through counsel.”

They turned and left, their footsteps echoing down the porch steps.

I shut the door, my knees weak, and tore open the envelope.

The date stared back at me—one week away. Fighting Cassian Moretti in court was like facing a lion with a paper sword.

His wealth, his connections, his ruthlessness—he’d have judges and lawyers in his pocket.

I thought he’d agreed to stay away, but this was his retaliation, his way of clawing back control.

My mood plummeted, a heavy fog settling over me.

I slipped into my bedroom, avoiding the twins’ laughter in the living room, and grabbed the phone.

My fingers dialed Cassian’s number before I could second-guess myself.

“Cassian, what the hell are you doing?” I hissed when he answered. “I thought we agreed you’d stay out of their lives.”

“What agreement?” His voice was calm, almost mocking.

“You can’t be part of their lives,” I said, pacing the room, the hardwood cool under my feet. “They’re better off without you, trust me.”

“My life’s meaningless without you and the kids,” he said, his tone softening. “It’s worse now, knowing they exist.”

“Cancel the subpoena,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “They can’t live without me, Cassian. They’re all I have.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You said I’m dying. If that’s true, I want to spend my last days as their father. Don’t you think that’s fair?”

“Please,” I begged, tears stinging my eyes. “You’ll ruin me all over again. You’ve got the courts in your pocket, but don’t take my babies.”

“There’s no way I’m living my last days without my twins,” he said, his voice resolute. “I want to know fatherhood. If you won’t let me, the courts will.”

My heart sank. “Is there anything I can do to keep you away from them? Name your price.”

“Price?” His laugh was bitter, pained. “There’s one thing, Charlotte.”

My chest tightened. “What?”

“Marry me.”

The world stopped, my breath catching. “I’ve told you we can’t work. Over and over.”

“For one year,” he added. “If we don’t work out, I’ll leave for New York. For good.”

I paused, the weight of his offer crushing me. “Is that the only way?”

“Yes.”

“Then I have conditions,” I said, my voice trembling but firm.

“Name them. My lawyers will draft the agreement.”

“No official wedding,” I said. “You can’t tell the twins you’re their father—only that you’re my husband.”

“Charlotte—”

“You’re not permanent in our lives,” I cut in. “Calling yourself their father makes you a fixture, and I won’t have that. It’s already too much that I’m marrying you for a year and moving them under your roof.”

“Anything else?” His voice was controlled.

“After the year, you disappear. No stalking, no tracking, no contact.”

“And if we work out before then?” he asked, a faint hope in his tone.

I laughed bitterly. “If we were meant to work, we would’ve the first time you forced me into marriage.”

“Fine,” he said. “My lawyer will contact you.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t hang up, his silence heavy. “Bye,” I said, ending the call.

I sank onto the bed, the room spinning.

Marry Cassian?

Move the twins into his world?

The thought was a vise around my heart, but it was the only way to keep him from taking them through the courts.