The Brink (Unbroken Raine Falling 3)

So what did she want? And why had she come to him?

“Is he now?” Liam asked.

She looked a little crestfallen. “Yes. I know I’ve shocked you. But…” Gwyneth sent him a pleading stare. “I couldn’t keep you apart from your son any longer, darling.”

Gwyneth expected him to believe that his feelings suddenly mattered? That didn’t sound like the woman he remembered.

Liam gave her a contemptuous snort. “Christ, woman. Let’s get one thing straight before you say another word. I’m not your darling, your dearest, your husband, or anything else anymore.”

She had the good grace to look contrite.

“Why did it take you six months to reach the conclusion that I need to know my supposed son?”

“Five and a half, actually,” she hedged.

Because those two weeks make a huge difference.

“Why didn’t you bother telling me you were bloody pregnant in the first place? You had nine months to reach out then.”

Liam was quickly losing his patience. He glanced at the lone chair in the room near her—and remained standing.

“Well, that night, after the benefit, in my hotel room…it was like old times. You were charming and loving. It was glorious.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I was drunk.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “Our lovemaking was magical. I was thrilled you wanted me again. I thought it was a new beginning for us, Liam.”

Nausea turned his stomach. Was it possible he’d been soused enough to fuck her? If he had, he doubted he’d thought of anything as practical as birth control.

“But when you woke, you were surly and couldn’t leave fast enough. I’d just realized I was still in love with you, so I was devastated.” She teared up. “Yes, I’d made terrible mistakes during our marriage—”

“That doesn’t matter now. Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”

“Well, I moved to London to lick my wounds. Then my father fell terminally ill.” She stopped as if anticipating sympathy. When he gave none, she continued. “Between caretaking and settling into my new flat, I didn’t realize I was pregnant. Once the doctor confirmed it, I tried to reach you. But you’d changed your number. I knew you no longer wanted me, and I was hurt. I grieved. I became determined to raise your baby on my own to make up for the wrongs I’d done to you.”

“Or rather, you decided that because I wasn’t your prince charming, you’d punish me by withholding my son.”

She swallowed. “No. You left me no way to contact you.”

“Please. I might have changed my mobile number, but you knew where I lived up until a few months ago. You could have written me a letter, e-mailed, or called my work.”

“I didn’t think the post or an electronic message was the proper way to tell you that you’d soon be a father. I didn’t contact your business because you’re often traveling, and your secretary reads everything first.” Gwyneth gave him a delicate grimace. “I realize now it was very wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

Wasn’t that just like her, sweeping the unforgivable under the carpet at every turn? Before the divorce, Liam had found it difficult to absolve her of cheating. He’d tried but fallen short. Forgiving her for keeping his son—if Kyle was his—from him? Impossible.

Inwardly counting to ten, Liam bit back his anger. “I’m not buying into this story without a paternity test.”

“I brought proof. Look.” Moving to the dresser, she grabbed a stack of documents, then handed them to Liam. “See? Here’s his birth certificate, his immunization records. I even have ultrasounds of my pregnancy.”

Reluctantly, he shuffled through the papers in his hand. Details jumped out at him, like the child’s surname. O’Neill. Almost choking, he noted the boy’s birthdate and weight, scanned the ultrasound pictures, which looked like little more than a strange blur of shapes and shadows.

Liam wasn’t moved. Sure, she had documents to support her claims, but until he had undeniable proof that he’d fathered the boy, he was skeptical. “Kyle may be your son, but none of this proves he’s mine. I want a paternity test.”

“I haven’t been with anyone but you since we separated,” she pleaded with big green eyes.

If, by some miracle, she was telling the truth, that would make him Kyle’s father. But Gwyneth abstaining would be akin to a miracle. “I don’t care.”

“Liam, what kind of awful parents would we be if we subjected our son to such humiliation?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The lad isn’t old enough to know what’s happening. It won’t hurt him. We don’t even have to draw blood. I merely have to swab the inside of his cheek.”

She swiveled away, drawing the baby closer to her body as if shielding him. “That’s unnecessary. I know I hurt you before, but I wouldn’t lie about something as important as this.”

He arched a sharp brow. “I found you fucking two men while you wore my wedding ring. I think you’d lie about anything if it suited you.”