24. Gen
Chapter 24
Gen
T he sound of Silas’s fist colliding with Sebastian’s jaw is horrifying. It’s not the exaggerated smack you hear in movies—it’s a dull, wet sound that seems to reverberate through the thin walls of my office.
I gasp, hand flying to my mouth as I watch Sebastian stumble back a step. His jaw is already turning red, his whole body bristling with a rage I can feel from halfway across the room. Silas looks like he’s two seconds away from throwing another punch, fists clenched so tight the tendons in his arms stand out against his skin.
Fuck…this is not good.
They’re locked in some primal standoff, two alpha predators sizing each other up, and for a second, I honestly think they’re going to tear each other apart. I need to get between them. I need to stop this before it spirals even further out of control.
I step forward instinctively, stupidly, intending to wedge myself between them, but Max is faster. When did he get here?
His arm wraps around my waist, yanking me back against his chest. We stumble together, momentum carrying us awkwardly to the floor, my hip knocking painfully into the edge of the coffee table before he catches us both.
The air whooshes out of my lungs in an undignified squeak. Max grunts as he cushions most of the impact. Panic flares hot and wild in my chest—the baby. But Max is already checking me over, hands skimming my arms, my ribs, my stomach, frantic and rough.
“Jesus, baby. Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Silas is there a second later, dropping to his knees beside us, his entire body vibrating with panic. His hands moving over my arms, my shoulders, my stomach, checking for injuries, for signs of distress, his movements frantic. "Baby, talk to me. Did you break anything? We need to get you to a doctor. Fuck, we need—Max?—”
"I’m fine!" I snap, trying to wriggle free from their hands.
"Jesus, G, are you okay? I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—we need to get you checked, we need to—" His voice breaks, and he’s already reaching for his phone, probably ready to call an ambulance.
"I’m fine," I snap, louder than I mean to, shoving his hands away. "Stop. I’m fine. The baby is fine."
“Shit.” Max’s voice breaks, but it’s not fear that takes over—it’s fury. He shoves Silas hard enough he lands on his ass, his face twisted into something furious. It’s an emotion I’ve never seen coming from him and it shocks me into silence for a moment.
"What the hell is wrong with you two?" he snaps. “You could have hurt her! You don’t pull this shit with her standing in the middle."
His glare cuts to Sebastian, sharp enough to draw blood. "And you—you walk in here throwing accusations and fists like you have any goddamn right? You don’t get to break her, disappear, and then act like you’re the victim!"
Max’s hands fist at his sides, and for a second, I think he might actually lunge at Sebastian. Silas is on his feet again, me and the baby apparently forgotten.
I plant my hands on the floor, push myself upright, and fix these idiots with the fiercest glare I can manage.
"Are you boys insane?" I snap. Finally, mercifully, they all freeze. "You want to throw punches? Fine. Knock yourselves out. But do it somewhere else. I’m not cleaning up your blood."
Silas looks properly chastised, shoulders sagging as he scrubs a hand through his hair. Max shifts back, mouth pressed into a hard, thin line.
Sebastian, though. Sebastian just stands there, looking like he’s holding himself together by the thinnest possible thread. And it’s starting to fray. There’s blood trailing from the corner of his mouth and I’ve never seen him look so disheveled—not even after he fucked me stupid.
His chest rises and falls in sharp, violent bursts, his hands curled into fists at his sides. But it’s his eyes that wreck me.
Furious. Betrayed. Hurt.
"You should’ve told me," he says, voice low and raw.
I stiffen, drawing myself up even though every instinct is screaming to look away. I’d like to do just about anything other than stand here while the man who shattered me looks at me like I’m the one who broke him.
"I tried," I say, hating the way my voice wobbles. "You ignored my calls. You ignored my texts. I’m pretty sure you actually blocked my number. I was done chasing after someone who made it very clear they didn’t want anything to do with me."
The words scrape against my throat on the way out, but I hold his gaze. I make sure he sees every ounce of the hurt he left behind. He doesn’t get to come in here and play the victim. Fuck that.
Max shifts behind me, his hand finding the small of my back in silent support. Silas mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like asshole , but I don’t turn to confirm it. I can’t. I’m too busy watching the way Sebastian’s jaw tics, the way his entire body goes still.
Sebastian’s gaze drops to my stomach, lingering there for a heartbeat too long, and I feel it—his want. His desperation. His absolute, suffocating fury at the idea that someone else might be part of a future he wasn’t ready to claim until it was almost too late.
But I don’t move toward him. I don’t soften. I don’t offer him anything.
I wrap my arms around myself, anchoring the shaking deep inside, and stare him down across the battlefield we’ve made of this room.
If he wants a war, I’m done surrendering.
His mouth twists in anger. "And jumping into bed with my best friends was your solution?"
Heat floods my face, shame and fury warring inside me, but I don't back down. I won’t give him that satisfaction.
"You don’t get to judge me," I bite out. "You made your choice. You took my virginity, let me believe we were building something real, and then disappeared into the night without so much as a goodbye. You didn't even tell me to my face—you left me a note, Sebastian. A fucking note. You don’t get to show up months later and pretend you have the moral high ground."
The words spill out before I can stop them, sharp and fast and messy. I hate how much they reveal. I hate that he knows now—really knows—just how deep he cut me. But I also refuse to let him rewrite history into something that fits his narrative.
Sebastian's face shutters, his features locking down so tightly he looks carved from stone. For a moment, I wonder if I've finally managed to hurt him the way he hurt me.
But then I realize my mistake, because the change in the room? It’s instant. Palpable.
Silas stiffens beside me, the anger he had banked moments ago sharpening into something infinitely more dangerous. His whole body goes rigid, shoulders locking, jaw flexing as his hands curl into fists at his sides. Max goes still too, his eyes darting between me and Sebastian, reading the silent conversation none of us are saying aloud.
They didn’t know.
Oh, God. They didn’t know I was a virgin before I met Sebastian.
I watch the realization hit them, the way understanding slides across their faces. The slow, brutal comprehension that while they’ve been careful, protective, fierce in ways I didn’t even know how to want...Sebastian had the first of me. The parts that were fragile. New.
And then he walked away and left me pregnant and alone.
Silas turns first, stepping closer to Sebastian in a way that makes every hair on my body rise. "You knew.” His voice is rough, disbelief coloring his tone as he echoes the words Sebastian spat at him just minutes ago.
Sebastian doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even blink.
Max shifts next, his mouth tightening into a grim line. His fists flex once at his sides, knuckles whitening, but he doesn’t move. Not yet.
"Tell me," Silas says, quieter now, deadlier. "Tell me you didn’t know she was a virgin."
The silence stretches too long.
Sebastian doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t say a goddamn word.
He just stands there, chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged bursts, the refusal to speak saying more than anything he could possibly offer.
Silas’s mouth twists into something ugly. Max mutters something under his breath I’m almost glad I don’t catch, because judging by the way he’s vibrating beside me, it was brutal.
“It’s irrelevant now, isn’t it? She clearly had no problem moving on to not one, but two of my closest friends.”
For a second, I think Silas is going to hit him again. Part of me wants him to, wants him to knock that cold, unrepentant expression off Sebastian’s face. But the bigger part of me—the one that's still desperately trying to hold this whole mess together with both hands—steps forward instead.
"No," I say, my voice sharper than I intend. "You don’t get to twist this."
They all turn to look at me, three men who could break each other without trying, freezing as if remembering I’m still here.
"This isn’t about revenge, or desperation, or whatever narrative you’re spinning in your heads to make this easier to swallow." My voice shakes, but I push through it. I have to. “What I have with them has nothing to do with you.”
My boys don’t move an inch. Sebastian’s face, though—that perfectly carved mask he wears for the world—cracks just slightly at the edges. Enough for me to see the raw, ugly hurt he’s been trying to shove down since the second he walked through the door.
Good.
Because he doesn’t get to come back here and pretend he's the one bleeding.
"You don’t get to rewrite this," I continue, voice low but unwavering. "You don't get to act like I betrayed you when you were the one who decided I wasn’t worth staying for. Do you fucking get that?"
"I made a mistake," he says, each word rough and slow, like he’s forcing them out through gritted teeth.
"No," I correct him sharply. "You made a choice. Don’t insult me by pretending it was anything less than that."
He flinches at that—barely, but I catch it. I see every tiny crack he tries to hide.
"You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You sent someone else to make excuses for you," I say, the words pouring out faster now, gaining a momentum I can't stop. "You left a note with your lackey, and then you vanished. And when I tried to reach you—when I needed you—you made it very clear you weren’t interested."
The silence in the room grows heavier, stretching taut between us, thick enough to choke on.
"And you think you get to stand here now and judge me for finding comfort elsewhere? For finding a connection—the kind of connection I thought I’d shared with you?” My voice drops, every syllable slicing clean and deep. "You think you get to demand answers, demand loyalty, demand...anything?"
He stares at me, something vicious and desperate burning behind his eyes. "I won’t be cut out of his life," he says. "Or hers. Their life. That’s my baby,"
The certainty in his voice rattles something deep inside me, something fragile and defensive that wants to curl up and hide. But I won’t give him that. Not now. Not ever.
"I never said you would be," I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. "But you don't get to bulldoze your way back in and act like none of this matters. You don't get to claim us—me or the baby—just because you finally pulled your head out of your ass."
Sebastian’s jaw works furiously, the muscles twitching as he fights whatever instinct tells him to push harder, argue louder, dominate the conversation the way he does in every boardroom and backroom deal he’s ever walked into.
But this isn’t a business transaction.
This is my life.
My body.
My baby.
And I’m not fucking negotiating with him.
Not anymore.
"You want to be involved?" I say, my voice steady, even though my heart is thundering painfully in my chest. "Fine. You can take the damn paternity test. You can show up for doctor's appointments. You can be a part of this. But you don’t get to take over. You don’t get to call the shots. Not after the way you left."
“Is there a question of paternity?” His voice is so tight, I’m surprised his vocal cords don’t snap.
"Not a one," I fire back. "But you're still taking the test. I don’t want there to be any question in your mind."
He flinches. Barely. But I see it.
I step closer, enough to make sure there’s no misunderstanding.
"You're not going to walk away from this a second time," I say, each word sharp and deliberate. "You're not going to spin whatever bullshit story you need to tell yourself to make it easier to sleep at night. You're not going to rewrite this."
I square my shoulders, lifting my chin.
"You want a place in this baby's life? You earn it. You fight for it. And you don’t get to tear me apart in the process."
He doesn't answer. He just stands there, breathing hard, looking at me like he doesn't know whether he wants to kiss me or strangle me.
Good.
Because I don’t know either.
For a long, awful moment, it feels like we might start the whole cycle over again—rage, regret, hurt, endless and pointless.
But then Max steps forward, his hand finding mine and squeezing just once, a silent reminder that I’m not alone in this. Silas mirrors him, settling at my other side.
And somehow, that's enough to tip the balance back toward sanity.
Sebastian’s eyes darken, fury still simmering under the surface, but he reins it in, clamping down on it with that same ruthless control he always wields.
"This isn’t over," he says finally.
It isn’t a threat.
It’s a promise.
And somehow, I know he’s not just talking about the baby. And I’m surprised to find I’m not sure how I feel about that.