Ezekiel’s POV

The ride back was deathly quiet, except for the car engine's steady hum. We were headed to Kamille's home, wherever that was.

Confusion washed over me as I stared at her and the children. Could they be hers? Was it possible she was their mother? If so, how deeply had I drunk from Ellen's cup of lies?

The more I considered it, the more curious I became. Kamille must have moved on. She and the children belonged to someone else!

I cringed at such a thought. But what if it were true? A different kind of anger—jealousy—surged through me. I remained silent, my gaze fixed on the children.

They, too, stared at me and their mother, their expressions curious. I heard the boy who’d carried their backpacks at the airport whisper to the girl, “Doesn’t this gentleman look familiar? He keeps glancing at Mom.” Ah, Roen and Tyris. The others were Torin and Royer.

They nodded, eyeing me suspiciously. I stayed silent.

“Excuse me, mister,” Tyris suddenly said, waving. I turned. “Do you know who my dad is?” she asked, throwing me off balance. I was shocked, but not as shocked as Kamille.

“Tyris!” Kamille exclaimed, trying to silence her. The little girl recoiled, her eyes widening, her mouth falling open. She cleared her throat, attempting to regain her composure.

Silence returned for a moment, but it was short-lived.

“Mommy,” Royer called out. I listened attentively. Kamille looked at him. “You promised Dad would come back, but…” He paused, glancing at his siblings. “…but he hasn’t. Mommy, did you lie to us?”

Kamille gasped, quickly composing herself. “No, Royer. Mommy didn’t lie.” That was all she said. I wanted more, I prayed Toyin would ask more questions, but he didn’t.

His words broke me, fueling the sadness within me. I tried to meet Kamille’s gaze, hoping her expression would betray her, but she avoided my eyes, her actions deliberate. She maintained a calm facade, but I sensed her unease. Something was wrong, but I couldn't figure it out.

Damn it, Kamille! What are you hiding?

“Sir, we’ve just passed the tollbooth. Where are we going?” the driver asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

His question broke through my thoughts, a necessary interruption. “Kamille,” I said, “can you give us the address?”

She finally met my gaze, then quickly looked away without speaking. After a few seconds, she pulled a piece of paper from her purse and handed it to me silently.

If I didn't know better, I'd have thought she'd sworn an oath of silence. I gave the paper to the driver, who nodded and continued driving.

Kamille remained silent. Since she wouldn't talk to me, I turned to the children.

“Hey, do you guys like ice cream?” I asked.

“Yes!” they chorused, their faces alight with excitement. I smiled; good conversation starter.

“Are you getting us ice cream, mister?” Royer asked.

“Yes, if you tell me your favorite flavors,” I replied.

“Chocolate and strawberry,” Tyris answered, even more excitedly than her brothers.

Roen remained quiet but now wore a smile. Kamille’s silence was hard to ignore, but my eagerness to get to know the children overrode it.

“Where’s your favorite ice cream place?” I asked Tyris.

“Mr. Buckin’s Creamery, near our house in the US,” she replied.

“You’re just back from the US?” I asked, surprised, hoping Kamille would speak, but she didn't.

“Yes,” Torin replied.

“That’s a beautiful place. So, why are you back here?” I asked, curious.

“Mom said we’re here to meet our father,” Roen finally spoke. I was dumbfounded.

I'd thought meeting them was fate, giving me another chance. I looked at Kamille, then back at the children. “That’s good,” I said, smiling, then remaining quiet until we reached the address.

Roen’s words had silenced me.

“We’re here,” the driver announced.

“Okay,” I replied, stepping out of the car, followed by Kamille and her children.

I signaled to Andrew, who helped unload Kamille’s luggage. Kamille took the backpacks from Roen and was about to go inside when I stopped her.

“I need to talk to you for a moment,” I said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she responded disinterestedly. “Go on.”

The children ran inside. She stood there, looking me directly in the eye, waiting.

“How are you? How have you been? Where have you been? The kids said you were in the US. How did you manage with them?” I asked, genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine. I’ve been good. Yes, we were in the US. I managed fine,” she replied, saying nothing more.

It made me uneasy. I’d hoped for a better conversation.

“Did you hear about the lawsuit against your family company? Fraud and tax evasion,” I asked, changing tack.

“Yes, I did,” she retorted.

I knew she was still angry, and I couldn’t blame her. Gaining her forgiveness after what I’d done wouldn’t be easy.

“Can I help you settle in?” I asked, my enthusiasm fading.

“No, I’m fine. I can manage myself and my kids,” she replied coldly, starting to walk away.

After a few steps, I remembered Royer’s words. “Who is their father?” I asked.

She paused and turned, revealing a rage I’d never seen before. Her brown eyes blazing, she yelled, “Stay away from me! Stay away from my children! I never want you near us!” She hurried inside.

My heart bled. The feeling stained my emotions, refusing to leave.

“Sir…” my driver began, but I cut him off.

“It’s none of your business. Just take me home,” I said.

He remained quiet but kept staring at me in the rearview mirror. “Out with it,” I said, unable to bear his gaze any longer.

“Forgive my intrusion, sir, but those children bear a striking resemblance to you. It’s quite evident,” he said. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I believe the young lady hid your children as punishment.”

I sighed. He made sense. Could it be true? But I didn’t even remember sleeping with her. My memories were blurry. I couldn’t confirm his theory.

I arrived home sooner than I expected. As I entered, Ellen’s voice greeted me.

Oh, not again! I screamed silently, my disdain evident on my face.

“Hi, Zeke. How was your day? Your trip?” she asked, sounding caring, but I wasn’t buying it.

“How the hell did you get in?” I asked coldly.

She dropped the pretense. “That’s not how to welcome the mother of your unborn child, is it?”

I paused, several responses vying for attention.

“Get lost!” I said, walking past her. I didn’t wait for a response or even glance back. She wasn’t worth it.