The penthouse wasn't a home; it was a statement. A vast, open space of cold marble, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a dizzying panorama of New York City, and minimalist furniture that looked too expensive to actually use. It was beautiful, sterile, and utterly soulless. It felt exactly like the man who owned it.
Evie stood frozen in the center of the living area, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The grand gesture, the desperate gamble it had all collapsed into this terrifying reality. She was a prisoner in a sky-high fortress.
Sebastian moved through the space with a quiet, efficient familiarity. He didn't speak, but his presence was a constant, watchful pressure. He poured a glass of water from a crystal carafe and placed it on a sleek, onyx coffee table.
"Please, sit, Ms. Reed," he said, his tone not unkind, but firm. It was the voice of a man used to managing crises and the people in them.
She remained standing, her body thrumming with nervous energy. "He can't just keep me here," she said, her voice echoing slightly in the cavernous room.
Sebastian met her gaze, his own steady and unnervingly calm. "Mr. Crowe can do a great many things. At this moment, his priority is establishing the truth. It is in your best interest to cooperate fully and quickly."
The truth. The words felt like a mockery. She had given him the truth, and he had called her children brats.
The penthouse elevator chimed, its sound a soft, menacing bell. Evie's heart leaped into her throat.
A moment later, Lysander strode in, followed by a severe-looking woman carrying a small, professional medical kit. He had shed his tuxedo jacket, and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He looked more approachable and, somehow, more dangerous.
His silver eyes found her instantly, pinning her to the spot. The air crackled with the force of his presence.
"This is Dr. Evans," he said, his voice clipped, devoid of any emotion beyond cold purpose. "She will take a buccal swab. A simple cheek swab. It's painless and will provide a sufficient sample for a paternity test."
Evie stared at him, a fresh wave of hurt and anger washing over her. He was treating this like a corporate acquisition. No questions about the children. No questions about her. Just a demand for data.
"Are you going to ask me anything?" she whispered, her voice thick. "Their names? When they were born? Anything?"
Lysander's jaw tightened. "The DNA will tell me everything I need to know. Facts are not subject to emotional manipulation."
The doctor, Dr. Evans, stepped forward, her expression professionally blank. "If you would please sit here, Ms. Reed. This will only take a moment."
Feeling utterly defeated, Evie sank onto the cold leather of the sofa. She was a specimen under a microscope. She numbly allowed the doctor to swab the inside of her cheek, the sterile cotton feeling like a violation.
Dr. Evans sealed the sample in a sterile container, then turned expectantly to Lysander.
He didn't hesitate. He sat beside Evie on the couch, too close, the heat of his body a shocking contrast to his icy demeanor. He turned his head, offering his own cheek.
The intimacy of the action, performed with such clinical detachment, was jarring. Evie caught the faint, familiar scent of his skin, and a memory, unbidden of his face nuzzling her neck, his laughter warm against her skin flashed in her mind, making her dizzy.
The doctor took his sample with the same efficient motion, sealed it, and placed both containers in her kit. "I will courier these to the lab immediately. You will have the results within 24 hours, Mr. Crowe."
"Twelve," he commanded, not taking his eyes off Evie. "I want preliminary results in twelve hours. Double the fee."
"Of course, sir." With a curt nod, Dr. Evans left, the soft click of the elevator door signaling her exit.
Silence descended, thick and heavy. It was just the three of them now: the furious billionaire, the terrified mother, and the silent bodyguard.
Lysander finally broke the silence, his gaze boring into her. "Now, we wait."
"What happens now?" Evie asked, her voice small. "Am I your prisoner until then?"
"You are my guest," he corrected, the word a lie so blatant it was an insult. "Sebastian will ensure you have everything you need. You will not leave this suite."
"And if I try?"
His lip curled. "I wouldn't recommend it."
Frustration boiled over. "You can't do this! I have a life! I have children who need me! They're expecting me to call them to say goodnight!" The thought of Leo and Luna, waiting for her, sent a fresh spike of panic through her.
For the first time, her words seemed to land. A muscle ticked in his jaw. The words "the children" had penetrated his armor, if only for a second.
"Where are they?" he asked, the question ripped from him as if against his will.
"They're safe. With my best friend, Maya." She hugged herself tighter, turning to look out at the glittering, indifferent city. "Leo will be worried. He's… perceptive. He knows when I'm upset. Luna will just be mad I missed our bedtime story." Her voice broke on the last word.
She heard him shift behind her. "Their names…" he began, then stopped, as if realizing he was venturing into forbidden territory.
"Leo," she said softly, staring at her reflection in the dark glass, superimposed over the city lights. "And Luna." She turned to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Leo, after the man I fell in love with. And Luna, because she was the light in my darkest night."
The raw honesty of the statement hung in the air between them. Lysander looked… struck. The ruthless calculation in his eyes faltered, replaced by a flicker of something complex and unreadable. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
The moment was shattered by the buzz of Sebastian's encrypted phone. He listened for a moment, his expression grim. "Sir," he said, holding out the device. "It's a secure alert. A press leak. From Damian Vance's office."
Lysander's head snapped up, all traces of vulnerability vanishing, replaced by a predator's focus. He took the phone. "What is it?"
Sebastian's gaze flickered to Evie, then back to his boss.
"They've caught wind of an 'unverified personal situation.' They're sniffing. The phrase 'paternity scandal' is being floated."
The color drained from Lysander's face. He stood up, his entire body radiating a new, different kind of fury. The private crisis had just become public.
He ended the call and threw the phone onto the sofa, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. He paced to the window, his back to them, a silhouette of pure, contained rage against the cityscape.
"This changes nothing," he said, his voice low and deadly.
"The timeline is simply accelerated." He turned, his eyes finding Evie's, and in their mercury depths, she saw the storm she had unleashed now had a second front. "Until the results come back, you don't exist. And neither do they."
He strode towards the elevator, pausing only to issue a final, chilling command to Sebastian.
"Lock it down. No one in or out. And get me everything on her. Everything. From the day she was born."
The doors slid shut, leaving Evie alone with Sebastian, the weight of Lysander's threat pressing down on her, and the terrifying realization that the world was about to crash down upon her children