Chapter Thirty-Three: Resemblance and Denial
Chapter Thirty-Three: Resemblance and Denial
ABEL DONOVAN
“Abel!”
Michael’s voice rang out. He strode over, but when his eyes landed on Hermione, he froze.
“Wow…” His face went pale. “Abel… she looks a whole lot like you.” Silence stretched for a moment as his eyes raked over her. Then his head snapped toward me. “Who is she? Did you have a child and keep it from me?”
My brows furrowed, confusion tightening my face. All the thoughts I’d been burying since the moment I saw Hermione came rushing back. She looked too much like me, her eyes, her features. Yet she looked like Anna too.
I scoffed, shook my head, and cleared my throat. “Stop talking nonsense, Michael. How could I have a child and not tell you?”
He didn’t look convinced. His gaze shifted back to the little girl.
“What’s your name, little one?” he asked, crouching slightly.
She giggled and took a step closer to him.
Jealousy prickled in my chest. She felt free with him but guarded with me. God knows what Anna warned her about me.
“I’m Hermione,” she answered in a sweet, clear voice.
“Nice to meet you, Hermione. I’m Michael.” He shook her hand, squinting his eyes as though studying every detail.
“She looks like Anna…” His words trailed off, his mouth falling open as his gaze snapped back to me. “Don’t tell me this is Anna’s child.”
Hermione tilted her head. “You know my mom too? Are you guys friends?”
Michael nodded. “Yes, I am.” His stare lingered on me, waiting for my answer.
I huffed. “Yes, she’s Anna’s child. Why would you even think she’s mine? Look at her closely, she’s Anna all over. I don’t see any resemblance to me.” I said it firmly, though inside I was trying to convince myself. Because really, what logic explained why Anna’s daughter allegedly looked like me? People just ran their mouths, saw things that weren’t there.
“It’s okay. When I first saw you, I actually thought you were my daddy and hoped you were.” Hermione’s innocent words hit me like a hammer. She glanced past Michael, unaware of the weight she had just dropped.
I froze.
“Damn, Abel,” Michael muttered. “You’re in deep trouble.”
My eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“If you really don’t see what I’m seeing, then you’re fucking hopeless,” he said under his breath.
Michael straightened and asked gently, “What about your dad, Hermione?”
“I don’t have a daddy,” she said simply. Her gaze drifted behind him. “Don’t tell me that’s your son.”
Michael turned, pulling Lucian from behind him.
“Come here, Lucian.” Michael chuckled. “He’s always been shy, but he’s cool when you know him.”
Lucian stayed glued to his tablet, barely looking up.
“I know him already,” Hermione said. “We’re classmates. You have such a boring son. Bye, Lucian, but you can do better.”
Lucian finally glanced up, giving her a sharp glare without saying a word. Despite his young age, his face was strikingly handsome. He had his mother’s beauty, because Michael was the ugliest man I’d ever met. And that cold stare of Lucian’s made him look older than his years.
“Bye, Uncle Abel. Bye, Uncle Michael. I’ll see you later.” Hermione waved.
“Wait,” I called out. “Can I get your mommy’s number?”
Hermione glanced at me, hesitation clouding her little face. She sighed. “I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t even be with you. Mommy will be mad if I tell her.” Still, she pulled out her phone.
“What did she tell you about me?” I asked, curious.
She waved me off and shoved the phone at me. “Punch in your number. I’ll send it. But don’t tell her I did. Be warned.”
Her tiny face turned serious. I stifled a laugh, biting my lip as I typed in my number and handed it back.
“I’ll text you later. Lucian, I’ll see you in school. Hopefully you’ve dropped your brooding ass by then.” She grinned, waved, and skipped away.
Michael groaned. “You really need to drop your shyness, Lucian. She’s beautiful. Why don’t you talk to her?”
Lucian sighed, eyes still following Hermione as she left. “Hermione?” He repeated the name with a scowl. “She’s a spoilt brat. I don’t like her.” He returned to his game, cold as ever.
“Oh, she’s great,” Michael said lightly, then turned back to me. “Let’s go.”
We drove to his house. When we arrived, he asked again, “Sure you don’t want to come inside, see my wife, stay for dinner?”
“I’m good, Michael. I need to clear my head. I’ll come by later.”
We parted ways, and I drove home. Straight to my private bar.
I poured myself a drink and downed it in one gulp. My mind was hazy, my thoughts restless.
My phone pinged. A message.
“Hi.”
“That’s my mom’s number.”
“What are you planning to do with it?”
“Don’t tell her I gave it to you.”
“Don’t tell her I was involved with you.”
Hermione had sent it in quick succession.
I chuckled and typed back: “
Thank you, Hermione. I promise I won’t.
Dropping the phone on the counter, I rested my head on the table. My imagination ran wild.
When I was with Anna, this was the life I wanted. A family. A child like Hermione, beautiful, free-spirited. I would’ve spoiled my little girl endlessly. That was the dream. But Anna went and ruined everything. She had a child from her betrayal. She left, only to come back and torment me again.
I took another burning gulp.
All this time, I told myself I hated her. Hated her with everything in me. But that illusion was cracking. Breaking.
Maybe what I really needed was clarity. To sit her down. Ask questions. Get answers. And maybe then, I’d finally be free of her.
I picked up my phone, copied the number, and dialed. The line rang and rang before a voice finally answered.
“Hello.”
My heart thudded against my ribs. My reflection in the mirror looked disheveled, broken.
“Hello? Who is this?” Her familiar voice again, sharp, irritated. The same voice I used to crave. The same voice I once lived for.
For a second, I closed my eyes, letting the sound of her wash over me. But then reality hit. No, I shouldn’t be doing this. It was the alcohol. I’d regret it.
“Hello,” she said again, firmer now.
I exhaled sharply. “Anna… can we talk?”