Tempted by Eden (Eden #1)

33. Cora

Chapter thirty-three

Cora

M onday morning hits like a sledgehammer, leaden with the burden of everything unsaid. My hands shake as I drop my purse at my desk, determination and dread warring in my mind. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. Not until I face James. I won’t leave this building without talking to him.

My mind races through a thousand worst-case scenarios— he hates me, he never wants to see me again, he’s already moved on. I swallow hard, forcing down the panic clawing at my throat. I have to stay focused.

My pace is quick, my heart pounding in time with each step as I swipe my security pass in the elevator and press the button for the fortieth floor. But nothing happens. The red light stays on, mocking me.

I swipe the card again, harder this time. No green light. No movement.

My heart drops.

No… he wouldn’t.

I hurry back to my desk, collapsing into my chair as I snatch up the phone and dial security.

“Hi, this is Cora Rossi. My pass isn’t working for level forty. Could you please check that for me?”

There’s a pause on the other end, the sound of someone chewing. “Hold on a sec.”

My fingers drum against the desk, impatience bubbling up inside me. After what feels like an eternity, the voice comes back.

“Looks like you don’t have access to level forty.”

“What? I had access last week.”

A heavy sigh. “I don’t know what you want me to say… you don’t now.”

I hang up before I scream at the poor guy.

I knew it. What an asshole.

My fingers curl into fists as I glare at the elevator.

Fine. He can block my access, he can shut me out—but he can’t avoid me forever. We need to talk. I won’t let this go.

Nathan strolls in a few minutes later, coffee in hand, oblivious to the hurricane raging inside me.

“Morning! Hey, congrats on the event Friday. You killed it,” he says with a grin.

“Oh… thanks,” I mumble, struggling to mask the desperation brewing. The gala feels like a lifetime ago now. My mind races, scrambling for a plan. Suddenly, an idea clicks—one that makes me feel lower than I’ve ever felt before, but right now, I’ll do anything.

Nathan sips his coffee, raising an eyebrow. “You okay? You look… off. Coming down with something?”

“I’m fine, just tired.” I force out a weak smile.

He smirks, leaning in. “Has our favorite tall, dark, and brooding boss been wearing you out?”

Despite everything, a laugh escapes me. And I hate myself for what I’m about to do next.

“Actually, speaking of James…” I glance around as if I’m about to share a secret. “I’ve got a meeting on level forty in a few minutes to debrief the gala, but my pass is acting up. Can I borrow yours? Security’s sorting me out a new one, but I don’t want to be late.”

Nathan doesn’t hesitate. “Sure thing!” He pulls the lanyard from his neck and hands it over without a second thought.

Guilt pierces through me. Nathan trusts me, and here I am, lying to his face. But once again… desperate times, desperate measures.

I swipe Nathan’s pass at the elevator. This time, the light turns green. I blow out a deep breath as the elevator climbs, carrying me toward the confrontation I’m both dreading—and craving.

When the doors open on the top floor, I’m relieved to see Portia isn’t at her desk. I move quickly on my tiptoes so my heels don’t make a sound as I approach James’s office. The frosted glass walls shield him from view, but I know he’s in there.

My hand hovers just above the handle, a bead of sweat forming on the back of my neck.

Just go in. Just explain.

I grip the door handle, determined to make him listen, to make him understand that I never meant to hurt him . But the fear of seeing anger in his eyes paralyzes me.

I can’t back out now.

I force myself to push the door open, every part of me braced for the worst.

Please… just let him listen.

I open it just far enough to peek inside. James sits behind his desk, looking like hell. Dark circles hang under his eyes, and his usually slick hair is a mess. He’s clearly had as little sleep as I have. But the moment his eyes snap to mine, his entire demeanor hardens, the exhaustion replaced by cold fury.

“I see you’ve managed to lie and manipulate your way up here,” he snarls.

The venom in his voice stings, but I swallow my pride and step fully into the room, closing the door behind me. “We need to talk.”

“The time for talking was weeks ago. I’m not interested in anything you have to say now.” His tone is like ice, each word a dagger meant to cut me down.

I step up to his desk and force myself to meet his eyes. “James, please. Just let me explain.”

“Explain what, exactly? How you lied to me?”

“I-I didn’t lie,” I stammer. His piercing glare makes my resolve falter, but I push forward, desperate to explain. “I withheld the truth, yes. I should’ve told you about Leo sooner. But I never manipulated you. What we had—what I felt—it was real, at least for me…” I trail off. “I never expected to fall for you.” The weight of my confession lingers in the air between us.

James shifts back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “Omission of truth is still a lie, Cora.”

The words slice through me, and my heart feels like it’s being squeezed. “I know,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I know, and I’m sorry. But I was scared. I wanted to protect my son. I didn’t even know who you were for a long time, and when you didn’t recognize me at Eden… it threw me. I wasn’t sure what to think, or if I could trust you. I didn’t want to let you into our lives without knowing more about who you are. I made mistakes—I kept Leo from you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But everything I did was to protect him. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Tears burn at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. This isn’t the time for weakness.

James’s expression doesn’t soften. If anything, he seems even more closed off. Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.

Finally, he breaks the quiet with a bombshell.

“He’s not my son.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. For a moment, the world narrows, the air thinning, and I’m standing on the edge of a cliff. His words echo in my ears, but my mind refuses to grasp them. Not his son? The thought swirls around, chaotic and senseless. I’m falling, even though I haven’t moved.

“That’s… impossible,” I gasp. “You—” My voice breaks, choking on the confusion. “You’re wrong.”

But James’s expression doesn’t change. He’s turned to stone—cold, immovable.

“Leo isn’t my son,” he repeats, almost too calmly, as if the words are just facts and not a wrecking ball. He watches me, waiting for the impact to land.

I blink, the world slanting beneath me.

Is this some kind of sick joke?

Some twisted form of revenge for not telling him sooner? Or does he not want to be part of Leo’s life so he’s denying it?

“I don’t understand.” I shake my head, stumbling back. My eyes search his face, pleading for something that might make sense of this nightmare.

I collapse into the chair behind me, my legs giving out. My mind spins, trying to grasp what he’s saying, but it doesn’t make sense. It can’t be true. This conversation was never going to be easy, but I didn’t expect him to outright deny it. I thought he had more honor than that.

“You’ve mistaken me for someone else. For Jonathon—my brother . He’s Leo’s father.”

My mouth opens and closes in shock. I can’t help but wonder if this is a sick scheme, a way for him to dodge responsibility. But as James looks at me, I see the truth in his eyes, the anger, the pain.

This is no joke.

“Jonathon?”

“My twin.” His voice is detached, like he’s talking about a stranger.

I blink, my heart crashing against my ribs.

“What… where is Jonathon?” I whisper.

James flinches, the first crack in his icy facade. “He’s dead.”

The words feel like a noose tightening around my throat. My mind blanks, scrambling for meaning. I want to scream, to shake him, to demand that he take it back—to admit that it’s some cruel joke. But the look in his eyes is like a hammer, driving the truth deep into my chest.

“No—no,” I breathe, my hands trembling, my pulse wild in my ears. “This can’t be real. Jonathon can’t be…”

But he says nothing. His eyes, clouded with grief, lock onto mine, and I know—he’s telling the truth. The world spins violently around me.

Dead? Leo’s father… is dead? Leo’s father is gone, and I never told him. My son will never meet his father.

James has reached inside my chest, grabbed my heart, and set it on fire. I struggle to breathe as my eyes and the tip of my nose burn with tears. But if I start to cry now, I’ll never stop. If I let go and accept his words, the grief will consume me completely.

“When… how?” I manage to ask. The words scrape against my throat, the question forcing itself out despite the terror twisting inside me.

He looks away, his jaw tight, a muscle in his cheek ticking.

“Five years ago. Hit and run in Malta,” he murmurs.

Malta? His voice sounds garbled as if coming from miles away, the distance between us morphing into an unbridgeable chasm.

“What date?” I croak out, shaking. The question hangs in the air, but I’m terrified of the answer.

James hesitates, his eyes flicking back to mine, confusion creasing his brow. “Excuse me?”

“What. Date. Did. He. Die?” I say, forcing each word through clenched teeth, as if speaking them slower will lessen the blow.

His stare sharpens, and for a brief moment, I wonder if he’ll tell me. The silence is unbearable.

“Twenty-sixth of May,” he finally says.

The world stops. My blood turns to ice in my veins; my lungs refuse to take in air. The date ricochets through my mind, making connections I don’t want to acknowledge. The numbers circle like vultures, tearing through the haze until only one fact remains: That was the day after…

A sob rips out of my throat. “That was the day after we slept together,” I whisper.

James recoils as if I’ve struck him, his face paling. His own devastation mirrors mine, but it’s worlds apart. My breath tears out of me in gasps, and the truth—so horrifying, so impossible—crashes over me with brutal force.

The day after. It wasn’t just a coincidence. It wasn’t some random tragedy happening miles away, disconnected from my life. I was there.

Another sob claws its way up my throat, and I press my hand harder over my mouth to stop the flood of grief breaking free. My entire body trembles, the weight of it too much to bear.

I want to scream, but no sound comes out. I’m drowning in the enormity of it all.

James looks away, his face twisted with devastation. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. Maybe he feels it too—what this means. But even if he does, it’s not enough to bridge the canyon between us.

I’m sinking, collapsing under the truth, the guilt, the horror that there’s no going back.

Tears stream freely down my face now, and I can’t hold back anymore.

I need to get out.

Shaky legs carry me out of his office, but I don’t know where I’m going. Each step feels like it might be my last. Everything I’ve done, every lie, every secret, has led to this. My vision blurs, and I stumble into the elevator. My world is collapsing, and I have no one to blame but myself.

By the time I reach my desk, I’m hyperventilating. I must look a mess with snot and tears running down my face.

I don’t care who sees me. I just need to escape.

I quickly drop Nathan’s security pass on his desk, grab my purse, and make a break for the exit. Tears continue to blur my vision, and the world feels like it’s crumbling beneath my feet.

Jonathon is dead.

Leo’s father is gone.

And I’m the one who’ll have to tell him.