20. Cillian
CILLIAN
I spend three days in another hotel room, eating room service I don’t taste, and running Connor’s jobs on autopilot while my phone sits on the nightstand.
Every time it buzzes I think it’s Valentina.
It’s never Valentina.
She’d called me blind.
Said I wanted to believe Claire out of some twisted need to prove I wasn’t Connor’s creature.
The words have burrowed under my skin and set up residence there because I can’t do anything except sit with the possibility that my wife—who is smarter than me in ways I’ll never quite admitted out loud—might be right.
Am I being manipulated? Or is Valentina lashing out because she can’t handle the reality that his life is more complicated than she’d been forced to sign up for?
I don’t know.
So I do the only thing that makes sense: I meet with Claire and I watch.
The first crack appears during a meeting at a park near the Upper East Side.
Finn is on the swings. Claire is beside me on a bench, close enough that I’m aware of the warmth of her, and she’s telling me about Finn’s school.
“The district is fine,” she says, “but fine isn’t good enough, you know?
He’s a smart kid. He deserves better.” She shakes her head, and there’s a softness in it, a practiced weariness.
“It’s just hard. Everything in this city costs so much.
Rent, food, supplies. I’ve been working two jobs just to keep us above water. ”
Somehow, Claire always makes sure to mention money. But I hear it differently this time—not as the confession of a struggling woman but as the opening line of an ask.
“I’m planning to set up a trust for Finn’s education,” I tell her, and I watch her face while I say it.
Her eyes light up. Just for a second, there and gone, but I see it. Relief and something else underneath the relief. Satisfaction.
“That’s wonderful,” she breathes, and her hand closes around my arm. Her fingers trace down my forearm slowly, and it is not how you touch someone’s arm in a casual conversation. “You’re a good man, Cillian. I knew you would be.”
I remove her hand from my arm. “I’m married, Claire.”
“Right.” She pulls back, laughing softly, ducking her head, her cheeks pink. “I’m sorry. I just—it’s been so long since anyone helped carry this. It gets overwhelming sometimes.”
She looks at me with those big dark eyes and I want to believe she means it, but my suspicion is starting to spike. Is this real? Or is she playing a role? The way the vulnerability switches on and off like a light feels wrong.
“Mum!” Finn runs over to us, breathless from running from the swings. He’s panting, his brown eyes sparkling from the exertion. “Can we get ice cream?”
“Not today, sweetheart.” Claire’s voice softens as she looks at her—our—son sympathetically. “We can’t really afford—”
“I’ll buy it,” I say before I can stop myself.
Finn whoops with delight. Claire smiles at me over his head. “You’re so generous.”
Generous. What an odd word to use for a father buying his son ice cream.
We walk to the ice cream cart and Finn falls into step beside me, looking up at me with childlike curiosity.
“Are you really rich?” he asks. “Mum says you have a lot of money.”
“Finn!” Claire’s voice snaps with an edge I haven’t heard before. “That’s not polite.”
Finn’s pale cheeks redden as he gapes at his mother. “B-but you said—”
“I said your father is successful,” she corrects quickly, her eyes darting to me. “Successful is different from being rich.”
But the damage is done and we both know it.
She was talking about my money.
Describing me as rich.
We reach the ice cream cart and I hand the cart vendor my card. Finn picks out a chocolate ice cream cone and smiles with delight when it’s handed to him.
Claire wants nothing and neither do I.
I don’t have an appetite right now.
“Do we get to come live with you?” Finn asks, licking a drip off the side as we near the park again. “Mum says maybe we could all be a family.”
My blood runs cold and I stop in my tracks. Finn also pauses, looking back at me in confusion. Claire looks like she’s seen a ghost.
“She said that?” I ask carefully, my heart pounding.
Claire laughs nervously. “Kids always misunderstand things. I said we’d spend time together as a family. That’s different from living together, Finny.”
But Finn looks confused, looking at his mother with consternation. “But you said—”
“Finn, look!” Claire points across the park with bright, sudden urgency, redirecting his attention. “There’s a dog over there—a big one! Why don’t you go see if you can pet it?”
Finn’s eyes track to the dog. For one moment he looks like he might finish his sentence anyway.
Then the dog wins and he’s off across the grass at full speed.
Claire turns back to me with a rueful smile. “Kids. They hear what they want to hear.”
“Right,” I say slowly. But something’s shifted. Valentina’s voice is in my head now. Everything about this situation is designed to manipulate you.
We sit back down on the bench. Finn is crouched in front of the golden retriever, holding out his hand with solemn patience while the dog sniffs him over.
Claire watches him with a soft expression. “He’s always wanted a dog. Since he was tiny.” A small sigh. “I just can’t make it work financially. The pet deposit alone in most buildings is—” She shakes her head. “It’s one of those things I feel guilty about. The list of things I can’t give him.”
I’m half-listening, nodding at the right places as I examine the events of the last half hour.
Something isn’t right.
And that’s when I see her.
Emma.
She’s coming across the grass in jeans and a light jacket, red hair back in a ponytail, pushing Seraphina’s stroller. She looks like she just happened to be in the neighborhood.
Emma never just happens to be anywhere.
How the hell did she know I was here?
“Cillian!” She raises her hand in a wave, expression brightening like she’s genuinely surprised. “I thought that was you!”
Beside me, Claire straightens. Somehow, her hand that had made its way back to my forearm slides back to her own lap. She looks curiously at my cousin as she approaches.
“Emma,” I say in surprise as she reaches us. “What are you doing here?”
“Seraphina needed some fresh air, and this park has the best playground.” Emma stops the stroller alongside our bench and smiles at Claire. “Hi, I’m Emma. Cillian’s cousin.”
“Claire Murphy.” Claire extends her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
Emma shakes it, but I notice how her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s being polite—gracious even—but there’s none of the warmth she usually shows to strangers.
“And that must be Finn,” Emma says, looking toward where the boy is still absorbed in the dog. “He’s adorable.”
“Thank you,” Claire says cautiously, still eyeing Emma. “He’s a good boy.”
“I’m sure he is.” Emma turns to me. “I didn’t know you’d be here. Leo mentioned you’ve been staying at a hotel for a bit.”
The emphasis on the last part makes my jaw tighten and I can feel Claire’s stare. Of course Leo mentioned it. Which means Valentina told Leo. Which means everyone in both families probably knows Valentina and I are fighting, and I have no one to blame for that except myself.
“Just temporarily,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Of course.” Emma glances at Claire again, her expression unreadable. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt your afternoon. I just wanted to say hi to my favorite cousin.”
Claire smiles. “You’re not interrupting at all. Actually—” She glances at her watch then toward the playground, looking like she’s just realized something. “I should probably get Finn home soon anyway. It’s almost his naptime.”
My brow furrows. Nap time? Finn is eight years old.
Eight year olds don’t take naps.
What the hell is Claire talking about?
Claire stands, smoothing her dress, and calls across the path. “Finn! Time to go, sweetheart.”
Finn looks up from the dog with a pout. He says something to the dog’s owner, pats the retriever one more time, then trots over. Claire takes his hand.
“It was nice meeting you, Emma,” Claire says before turning to me, smiling. “Same time tomorrow?”
“I’ll let you know,” I say carefully.
Claire’s smile falters slightly, but she recovers quickly. “Of course. Talk to you soon.”
She leaves with Finn and I watch her go.
Claire looks back once, giving me a little wave, but something about the gesture feels calculated.
Emma sits down on the bench beside me, adjusting the stroller so Seraphina is in the shade.
“So,” she says quietly. “That’s her.”
“Yes,” I respond. “That’s her.”
We sit in silence for a moment. I can feel Emma studying me, probably cataloging all the ways I look like shit.
“Valentina sent you,” I finally say.
Emma shakes her head. “No, she didn’t. I came because I wanted to see for myself what the hell is going on with you.”
“I’m handling it.” I fix Emma with a sharp look. “And how did you even know I was here?”
The smirk Emma gives me is so Connor-like, I almost do a double take. “I have my sources,” she says evasively. Her smirk turns into a frown. “And you’re not handling anything. You’re wallowing in guilt and making terrible decisions that are hurting my best friend.”
My hands clench. I don’t need this shit. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” Emma turns to face me fully. “Cillian, I’ve known you my whole life. I’ve watched you follow Dad’s orders without question. I’ve seen you do horrible things in the name of family loyalty. But I’ve never seen you be stupid.”
Rage courses through me and I whirl on her. “I’m not being stupid,” I snarl.
“Yes, you are,” my cousin says bluntly, wrinkling her nose as she pushes me away. “You’re being played and you’re too proud to admit it.” She scowls at me. “And if you get in my face again, I will hit you.”
“The paternity test came back positive,” I say through gritted teeth, ignoring her last comment. “That’s not pride. That’s science.”