Sinful Obsession: Chapter 8

I didn’t know how Ethan pulled it off, but at exactly 4:00 p.m., a restless urge drove me outside the mansion’s heavy oak doors.

I scanned the grounds for any sign of Ethan’s promised delivery, half-expecting nothing but disappointment.

Then, my eyes caught on something peculiar—an envelope, its crisp white edge tucked into the vibrant petals of a rosebush in the courtyard opposite the house.

My pulse quickened as I crossed the gravel path, the crunch of stones under my feet unnervingly loud in the silence.

I glanced over my shoulder, half-convinced Cassian’s watchful eyes—or worse, his cameras—were tracking my every move.

I plucked the envelope free, its weight surprisingly heavy in my hand, and tucked it behind my back, shielding it from any prying lenses as I hurried inside.

I didn’t dare open it in the open. Instead, I slipped through the mansion’s labyrinthine halls to the old library at the back of the house.

The lack of modern fixtures made it the one place I felt reasonably sure was free of Cassian’s surveillance.

My fingers trembled as I tore open the envelope, its wax seal crumbling under my touch like an ancient relic.

Inside was a sleek burner phone, its screen dark.

A genuine smile broke across my face, a flicker of hope in the suffocating darkness of my captivity.

Ethan had done it.

Tucked beside the phone were three pregnancy test kits, their sterile packaging gleaming.

My smile faltered, replaced by a cold knot of dread in my stomach.

The nausea, the dizziness, the morning sickness—they’d plagued me again today, each symptom a whisper of a truth I wasn’t ready to face.

I powered on the phone, my hands shaking as I dialed the only number programmed into it. Ethan’s voice came through instantly, warm but edged with tension. “Charlotte?”

“I got it,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

He exhaled. “God, I risked everything to get that to you. If Cassian had found it before you did, my entire family would be done for.”

My throat tightened at the weight of his sacrifice. “I’m so sorry, Ethan. I didn’t realize—”

“It’s fine,” he cut in, his tone firm but kind. “Just be careful with that phone. I’ve encrypted it with every tech trick I know to keep it undetectable, but you need a safe place to hide it.”

“I will,” I promised, glancing around the library’s shadowed corners. “Ethan… what if I’m pregnant?”

A long pause stretched between us, heavy with unspoken fears.

Then, the call switched to video, and his face filled the screen—sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, and those familiar eyes.

My breath caught as a memory slammed into me: Ethan, the scrawny kid from high school, always hunched under the weight of bullies’ taunts until I stepped in to shield him.

My fractured memory was a cruel puzzle, pieces locked away until something—or someone—jarred them loose.

It was the same with my mother, my brother, even my father, whose face only resurfaced when Cassian dragged me to that mafia meeting days ago.

Whoever had stolen three years of my life was a monster, but I’d claw my way back, no matter how long it took.

“Charlotte, can you hear me?” Ethan’s voice snapped me back, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, my cheeks flushing. “I got lost in my head.”

“I was saying, if you’re pregnant, Cassian might not react as badly as you think. He… he might still love you.”

I scoffed, the sound bitter. “Love me? Maybe once, but not now. He thinks I killed his sister, Ethan. He’s planning to punish me, and I don’t know what that looks like, but I know it’ll be cruel. And if I’m pregnant…” I swallowed hard, the words tasting like ash.

“Cassian and I haven’t been intimate since I woke up in my grandfather’s cabin last December, abandoned by whoever took me. If there’s a baby, it’s not his. It could be… it could be from someone who…” I couldn’t finish, the thought of violation too horrific to voice.

Ethan’s face paled on the screen, his jaw tightening. “That’s… complicated.”

“Exactly,” I said, my voice trembling. “If Cassian finds out I’m carrying another man’s child, his hatred will destroy me.”

“Let’s hope you’re not pregnant,” Ethan said firmly. “Do the test and let me know. If you are, I’m getting you out of there, no matter what it takes.”

My chest ached with gratitude, but another thought surfaced. “There’s something else. I told you about the House of Devils, that underground mafia competition…”

“I disguised myself as a man to join, to win enough power and money to claim my inheritance without marrying one of the Morettis.”

“My grandfather’s deal with their patriarch tied my inheritance to a Moretti marriage. But if I win the competition, I can strip my father of his title as Don and take revenge for what he did to me and grandfather.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “An underground mafia competition? That sounds insane.”

“It is,” I said. “It’s a secret even among the clans. Male heirs fight for a chance at unimaginable wealth, gold, and a badge that commands respect across every mafia family in the world. But it’s brutal—death is the only way out if you don’t win.”

“Vincent’s too much of a coward to try, but I risked everything. Cassian found me there, pulled me out, and brought me here against my will. If I could get back in…”

“I’ll look into it,” Ethan promised, his voice resolute. “But you know Cassian will come for you again.”

“Not if I make sure he can’t,” I said, my voice hard with determination.

Ethan nodded, but before he could reply, a faint creak echoed from the hallway, like a door settling in its frame.

My heart leapt into my throat. “I have to go,” I whispered, ending the call with trembling fingers. I shoved the burner phone and two of the pregnancy tests into a hollowed-out book on the library shelf, grabbing the third test as I slipped out of the room.

I moved quickly, my pulse pounding as I headed for the guest bathroom on the second floor, far from the bedroom I shared with Cassian.

The hallway was dim.

At the bathroom door, I paused, peeking around the frame to ensure I was alone.

The room was small, tiled in cold white, with a single frosted window casting muted light.

I locked the door behind me, my hands shaking as I tore open the test kit.

The instructions blurred before my eyes, but I knew the drill. I crouched over the toilet, the plastic stick awkward in my grip, and waited, my breath shallow.

The seconds stretched into eternity.

When I finally glanced at the test, my world tilted.

Two bold red lines stared back at me, undeniable and merciless.

Pregnant.

My knees buckled, and I sank to the floor, the test slipping from my hand to clatter against the tiles.

My heart thundered, a deafening roar in my ears as the truth sank in: I was carrying a child, and it wasn’t Cassian’s.

It could only be the result of something done to me during those lost months, by someone whose face I couldn’t recall.

Nausea surged, not from the pregnancy but from the violation, the powerlessness, the horror of it all.

“What are you doing in there?” Cassian’s voice sliced through the door, suspicious.

I scrambled to my feet, shoving the test into the toilet and flushing it with a desperate jab.

The water swirled, carrying the evidence away as I adjusted my clothes and unlocked the door.

Stepping out, I met his gaze, his dark eyes narrowing as they studied me.

“Why are you looking for me?” I asked, forcing defiance into my voice to mask the panic clawing at my chest.

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, like a storm about to break.

“You’ve been acting strange.” His hand reached out, tilting my chin up as his thumb brushed beneath my eye, checking for signs of distress like a doctor assessing a patient. “I’m having the doctor run a full panel on you.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said, jerking away and brushing past him, my heart racing. “I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t done. As I reached the master bedroom, the door creaked open behind me, and I turned to find him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable but heavy with intent.

“You’ve been hiding something,” he said, his voice low. “And I don’t tolerate secrets, Charlotte.”

Before I could respond, he crossed the room and gestured to a chair in the corner, its high back and leather upholstery giving it an almost throne-like menace.

“Sit,” he commanded.

My stomach twisted, but I obeyed, sinking into the chair as he loomed over me.

From a drawer, he produced a small, ornate box, its surface engraved with intricate patterns that seemed to pulse in the dim light.

He opened it, revealing a delicate silver bracelet, its surface etched with faint, cryptic symbols. “This,” he said, his voice cold, “is your first punishment.”

I frowned, confusion warring with fear. “A bracelet?”

“It’s not just a bracelet,” he said, fastening it around my wrist.

The metal was cold, biting into my skin, and a faint hum emanated from it, like a heartbeat just out of sync with my own.

“It’s a monitor. It tracks your every move, your heart rate, your stress levels. If you lie, if you hide anything from me, I’ll know. And if you try to remove it, it’ll send an alert to me—and to others who’d be very interested in your whereabouts.”

My breath caught as the implications sank in.

This wasn’t just surveillance; it was control, a psychological leash designed to strip away my autonomy.

My hand trembled as I touched the bracelet, its weight a constant reminder of my captivity.

And worse, it could detect changes in my body—changes like a pregnancy.

If Cassian found out, if he realized the child wasn’t his, the consequences would be unimaginable.

“You think I killed your sister,” I said, my voice shaking but defiant. “Why go through all this? Why not just… end it?”

His eyes darkened, a storm of emotions flickering across his face—anger, pain, something softer I couldn’t name.

“Because I need to know the truth,” he said. “And until I do, you’re mine to watch, mine to protect, mine to punish.”

He turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

I stared at the bracelet, its faint hum a mocking echo of my racing pulse. The child growing inside me, the child of a faceless monster, was now a secret I had to guard at all costs. But with Cassian’s eyes on me, and this device betraying my every heartbeat, how long could I keep it hidden?

Hours blurred into a tense vigil; I paced the bedroom, my mind a whirlwind of fear and calculation.

The pregnancy test’s red lines haunted me, a secret that could unravel everything if discovered.

When midnight finally cloaked the halls in darkness, I slipped out of the room, my bare feet silent on the cool marble floors.

The mansion breathed around me.

My heart pounded as I navigated the dim corridors, pausing at each corner to listen for footsteps.

If Cassian caught me now… the thought alone made my blood run cold. The bracelet on my wrist would summon his wrath in an instant—rage that wouldn’t stop with me, but would crush the fragile life growing inside me.”

He’d see it as betrayal, proof of my “guilt,” and whatever punishment he’d held back would crash down like a tidal wave.

I eased the library door open, the hinges whispering a faint protest, and slipped inside.

I retrieved the burner phone from its hiding spot in the hollowed-out book, my fingers trembling as I powered it on and dialed Ethan.

“Charlotte?” His voice was a lifeline, urgent.

“I did the test,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I sank into a shadowed armchair. “It’s positive. I’m pregnant.”

A sharp intake of breath on his end. “Oh, God. Okay, don’t panic. We’ll figure this out.”

“How?” I hissed, glancing at the door. “Ethan, this changes everything. I can’t stay here. When can you get me out?”

“I’m working on it,” he assured me, his tone steady but strained. “I promise, I’ll get you out as soon as I can. But I need to put a lot of things in place—contacts, safe routes, contingencies if Cassian tracks you. It’s not just about sneaking you away; it’s about keeping you hidden afterward.”

I pressed my free hand to my forehead, frustration bubbling up. “Give me a date, Ethan. Something to hold onto.”

“I can’t,” he said gently. “Not yet. If I rush this and it goes wrong… I won’t risk your life, or the baby’s. But trust me, it’ll be soon.”

The baby.

The word hung heavy, a reminder of the unknown horror behind it. But then Ethan shifted gears. “Before we go further, you need to do one thing: confirm if Cassian is really not the father.”

I blinked, staring at the phone as if he’d lost his mind.

“What? That doesn’t make sense. I just reconnected with him—there’s no way. I haven’t been with him since… well, since whatever happened in those lost years.”

“Medically, it’s possible to find out even before the baby’s born,” Ethan explained, his voice taking on a clinical edge. “It’s called a prenatal paternity test. They can do it as early as eight weeks with a simple blood draw from you and a DNA sample from Cassian—like hair, saliva, anything. It compares the fetal DNA in your bloodstream to his. Non-invasive, safe for the baby. If the child is not him, we’ll know for sure, and it might give you leverage or peace of mind.”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

Why suggest this now?

It felt like grasping at straws, but before I could press him, a loud crash echoed from the hallway—the unmistakable sound of a door being forced open.

Panic surged through me like ice water. I shoved the phone behind my back, tucking it into the waistband of my pants just as the library door burst inward.

Cassian stood there, his silhouette framed by the hall light, eyes scanning the room like a predator.

My breath caught, heart slamming against my ribs.

If he saw the phone—if he demanded to search me—the game was over.

He’d discover the calls, the pregnancy, Ethan’s involvement.

The bracelet would confirm my lies with its data, and his “punishment” would be swift and merciless, perhaps ending with me locked away forever, or worse.

“The doctor’s here,” he said flatly, his gaze lingering on me a beat too long.

I forced my voice steady, though my palms were slick with sweat. “This time of night? I told you, nothing’s wrong with me. I don’t need a doctor.”

“Come with me,” he commanded, turning on his heel without another word.

The door hung ajar behind him, and I exhaled shakily, sagging against the chair.

Thank God he hadn’t noticed—hadn’t demanded to see my hands or searched the room.

But the close call left me rattled, my mind racing with what-ifs.

Who summons a doctor in the dead of night? It reeked of control, of his unyielding grip tightening.

If the doctor ran tests and uncovered the pregnancy, I was as good as dead—exposed, vulnerable, at the mercy of Cassian’s rage over a child that wasn’t his.

Escaping seemed impossible; the estate was a fortress, guards at every gate, and now this bracelet tracking my every breath.

I had to play along, buy time until Ethan’s plan materialized.

Steeling myself, I stepped out and made my way to the living room, where soft lamplight illuminated a middle-aged man in a crisp white coat, seated on the leather sofa with a medical bag at his feet.

“Dr. Harlan,” Cassian said curtly, gesturing between us. “This is Charlotte. Charlotte, Dr. Harlan—he’s been with the family for years.”

The doctor rose, offering a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Charlotte. Mr. Cassian mentioned some concerns. How have you been feeling lately? Any headaches, fatigue, nausea?”

I perched on the edge of an armchair, forcing a casual shrug. “I’m fine, really. No issues.”

Cassian interjected from his spot by the window, arms crossed. “She’s been retching—saw it on the cameras. Acting dizzy, unsteady. Don’t deny it, Charlotte.”

“I’m not denying anything because it’s not true,” I snapped, meeting his gaze defiantly. “Maybe you’re seeing things.”

Dr. Harlan cleared his throat, pulling out a blood pressure cuff. “Let’s check a few basics. Roll up your sleeve, please.”

I complied reluctantly, the cuff tightening around my arm like a noose.

The pump hissed, pressure building, and I held my breath, suspense coiling in my gut.

What if it revealed something?

The bracelet hummed faintly, syncing with my elevated pulse. After a moment, the doctor nodded. “Blood pressure is 118 over 76—perfectly normal.”

Relief washed over me, easing the knot in my chest.

Next, he placed a thermometer under my tongue, the cool metal a stark contrast to my flushed skin.

The wait dragged, seconds ticking by as I avoided Cassian’s piercing stare. Beep. “Temperature’s 98.6—normal,” Dr. Harlan announced.

One more check: he shone a light into my eyes, asking me to follow his finger. My heart raced again, suspense thickening the air—would this expose the dizziness I’d hidden? But he lowered the light. “Pupil response is fine. No signs of neurological issues.”

“Nonetheless,” the doctor said, reaching for a syringe, “I’ll draw some blood for a full panel, just to be thorough. Mr. Cassian’s worried.”

“Good,” Cassian agreed, his tone brooking no argument.

I shot to my feet, backing away. “Hell no. I’m not doing any blood test.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed, suspicion etching deep lines on his face. “If you’re not hiding anything, what’s the problem? It’s just blood.”

I crossed my arms, defiance surging despite the storm raging inside me.

The last thing I needed was confirmation of the pregnancy before I could escape.

If he learned about the baby now, about it not being his… it would shatter any fragile trust, turning his “protection” into a cage I’d never leave. “I said no. I’m fine—your doctor just confirmed it.”

The doctor glanced between us, confusion furrowing his brow. He packed his bag awkwardly, murmuring, “If the patient refuses…”

Cassian waved him off with a frustrated sigh. “Go. I’ll handle it.”

Once the door clicked shut behind Dr. Harlan, Cassian turned to me, his voice a low command. “Sit.”

I sank back into the chair, forcing calm into my posture even as adrenaline surged through me, a tempest of fear.

“I’ve ordered my men at the gate to let you leave freely,” he said, surprising me.

My eyes widened. “Why the sudden change?”

He leaned against the mantel, his expression unreadable. “I have a better way to keep you protected now.” He nodded at the bracelet. “Being trapped here until your enemies are dealt with… it’s taking a toll on you. I see it. So go—anywhere you want. But I’ll be watching.”

I glanced at the silver band on my wrist, its hum a mocking whisper, then back at him. “Thank you,” I said softly, though suspicion lingered.

A heavy silence fell before I broke it. “When will you tell me how I supposedly killed your sister?”

“You didn’t kill her directly,” he said, his voice rough. “You were just the reason she died.”

“After I stopped stalking you to deal with her kidnapping, it took me forty-eight hours to track her down. I slaughtered every man holding her—she wasn’t harmed, not a scratch. I planned to send her back abroad for safety, but she asked about you. I told her you’d gone to another city for some space because our relationship was straining you mentally.”

My brow furrowed, a pang of unease twisting in my gut. “Was it?”

He nodded, his eyes distant. “She wanted to come with me, to keep you company while I gave you that space. I agreed, but by then, you were already gone—kidnapped. It hit me: whoever took you used Elodie as a distraction. I went after suspects—your father, my brother. Made mistakes, nearly sparked a war. But they had no connection.”

I leaned forward, my hands clenching in my lap. “Then what happened?”

“Unknown to me, the ghost who took you contacted Elodie. Promised to deliver you if she brought my black card. She stole it from me and went alone. I found out too late—just her body.”

My face paled, horror washing over me. “I’m sorry about Elodie, Cassian. Truly. But I’m innocent. You’re punishing me for her choices?”

“Technically, I haven’t punished you yet,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “It’s just a threat. Elodie… she was everything to me. The only family left.”

For the first time, vulnerability cracked his mask—shoulders slumping, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “When we were kids, our father was a monster. Beat us both, but I took the worst to shield her. Once, he came at her with a belt for spilling milk—I was ten, she was seven. I stepped in, took the lashes until my back was raw. Told her it was a game, that I was her knight.”

I watched him, my own heart aching despite everything.

His hands trembled as he continued. “I swore I’d give her the best life—sent her abroad, away from this world. Protected her from it all. And now she’s gone because of you… or whatever web we’re tangled in.”

His voice broke on the last word, and for a moment, the powerful mafia boss was just a broken man, grief raw and exposed.

I wanted to reach out, but the bracelet—and the secrets it guarded—held me back.