Chapter 62 #62
Chapter 62
~Dwayne~
"The baby is yours, Mr. Belmar."
The words hit me like a physical force. I stared at Dr. Harrison, unable to process what he'd just said.
"What?" I breathed.
"The paternity test is conclusive," Dr. Harrison repeated, sliding the folder across the desk. "You are the biological father of Mrs. Belmar's child."
My hands shook as I reached for the papers, my eyes scanning the results even though I couldn't really focus on the technical jargon. All I could see were the percentages, the certainty, the undeniable truth.
Mine.
The baby was mine.
"Are you absolutely certain?" I asked, my voice cracking.
"Ninety-nine point nine percent," Dr. Harrison confirmed. "There's no doubt."
I leaned back in the chair, pressing my palms against my eyes. Emotion crashed over me in waves, joy, terror, confusion, overwhelming love for a child I hadn't even known was mine until this moment.
A baby. My baby.
Growing inside Shailyn.
I felt tears prick at my eyes and didn't bother trying to stop them. One escaped, sliding down my cheek, and I wiped it away roughly.
"Mr. Belmar, are you alright?" Dr. Harrison asked gently.
"Yeah," I managed, though my voice was thick. "Yeah, I just... I wasn't expecting..."
That was a lie. I had been expecting this, hadn't I? Deep down, I'd known. The timing was too perfect. Six weeks pregnant. Six weeks since that night at the mask party.
But knowing and having it confirmed were two entirely different things.
"Thank you, Doctor," I said, standing abruptly. "For doing this. For... everything."
I walked back to Shailyn's room in a daze, my mind spinning with implications.
She was carrying my child. My child. But she didn't know it. She thought it was Dante's. She believed she was building a family with my brother, creating a future with a man who'd manipulated and used her.
And I had no idea how to tell her the truth.
How could I? "Hey, by the way, that baby you're carrying? It's actually mine. We slept together at a mask party six weeks ago and I had no idea it was you."
She'd think I was insane. Or lying. Or both.
And Dante... God, what would Dante do when he found out? I don't want him to harm Shailyn or the baby.
I stood outside Shailyn's room, watching her through the window. She looked peaceful, her chest rising and falling steadily, one hand resting protectively over her stomach.
Over my baby.
The thought made my chest tighten with fierce, primal possessiveness.
Mine. Both of them are mine.
But the amnesia complicated everything. She couldn't remember that night. Couldn't remember us. All she knew was what Dante had told her, the carefully constructed lies about their perfect marriage.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Marcus.
"Dwayne," he answered immediately. "What’s up?"
"Everything," I said, running my free hand through my hair. "Marcus, I need you to listen carefully."
"I'm listening."
"Shailyn's in the hospital. She collapsed earlier. The doctors found some kind of injection in her system, something that made her sick. I need to know what it was and who gave it to her."
"An injection?" Marcus's voice sharpened. "What kind?"
"That's what I need you to find out. The hospital is running tests, but I want our own investigation. Track her movements for the past week. Find out every place she went, every person she saw, every doctor's appointment."
"Consider it done. What else?"
"I need protection on her," I continued. "Round the clock. She doesn't leave the hospital or the manor without someone watching. And I need it done discreetly, she can't know."
"Done. Anything else?"
I hesitated, then decided to lay it all out. "The phone calls. The text messages. The coded messages. All of it. I'm giving you one week, Marcus. One week to find out everything that's been going on. Who's behind it, what they want, and how it connects to Shailyn."
"One week," Luke confirmed. "I'll need access to her phone records, security footage from the manor, anything you can get me."
"You'll have it all by tomorrow morning," I promised. "Whatever you need. Just... find out what the fuck is happening."
"I will. Dwayne, are you okay? You sound..."
"I'm fine," I lied. "Just... get it done."
I hung up before he could press further.
My thumb hovered over Dante's contact. I should have called him hours ago. Should have told him immediately that his wife was in the hospital.
But the thought of hearing his voice, of pretending to care about his feelings when I knew the truth, made my stomach turn.
Still, I couldn't put it off any longer.
I typed out a text instead: "Shailyn's at Kington General. Room 347. She collapsed. She's stable now."
Short. Clinical. No emotion.
I hit send before I could second-guess myself.
The response came within seconds.
"WHAT? WHEN? WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME IMMEDIATELY?"
I didn't reply. Let him stew in his panic. Let him feel a fraction of the fear I'd felt when she'd collapsed in my arms.
I slipped back into Shailyn's room, settling into the chair beside her bed. My hand found hers again, my thumb tracing gentle circles on her palm.
"I'm here," I whispered. "I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever."
Her fingers twitched slightly, like she could hear me even in sleep.
"We're going to figure this out," I continued softly. "I don't know how yet, but we will. I promise you that. I promise both of you."
My other hand moved to rest gently on her stomach, where my child grew.
The moment felt surreal. Sacred, even.
"Daddy's here," I murmured. "And I'm going to protect you. Both of you. No matter what it takes."
Footsteps pounded down the hallway outside. Loud, aggressive, furious.
I stood quickly, moving away from the bed just as the door slammed open.
Dante burst in, his face red with rage, his eyes wild.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded, stalking toward me. "Why is my wife in the hospital? Why didn't you call me immediately instead of sending a fucking text?"
"Lower your voice," I said quietly. "She's sleeping."
"Don't tell me what to do!" Dante's hands clenched into fists. "What happened to her? What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "She collapsed in the garden. I called an ambulance. I saved her life."
"Bullshit….."
"Dwayne?"
Both of us froze.
Shailyn's voice, weak and confused, came from the bed.
We turned to find her eyes fluttering open, disoriented and unfocused.
"Dwayne?" she repeated, her gaze finding Dante's face. "What... what happened?"
Dante's expression shifted from rage to confusion. "Baby, it's me. It's Dante."
But Shailyn's eyes were still on him, still confused, still calling him by the wrong name.
"Dwayne," she murmured again, her hand reaching out weakly. "I don't... I can't..."
Her eyes rolled back.
And she was unconscious again.
Dante stared at her.
Then he turned to me.
And the look in his eyes told me one thing with absolute certainty.
This war had just begun.