“So, Mathew is mine.” My blood drains from my face. I made sure I locked my room, how did he get in? I turn off the shower, grab my towel, and wrap it around my body. Tristan wasn't home for almost a week, and I almost forgot about his existence.
There's silence before I hear him speak again, “I don't know why I didn't think about the possibility that Mathew is the fruit of the s*x we enjoyed four years ago.” I don't even remember a single detail about that event. All I remember is he kissed me and I responded and I woke up.
“I know you're there, Carolina. Get out. We have to talk about Mathew—about our family.” Calming myself, I respond, “I'll talk to you, but get out of my room.”
“Get out of there and let's talk. I'm not going to hurt you,” he assures.
“Get out of my room, and I'll
