and self-gratification, she might’ve called it pain. His face hardened further, and he shifted backward. As if being in such close contact with her disgusted him.
Screw. Him.
And screw herself for that thin sliver of pain that slid between her ribs and buried right in her heart.
“I want a DNA test done.”
She tilted her head to the side, arching an eyebrow. “I thought he was the image of you as a child. Now you’re questioning his paternity. That turnaround was quick,” she drawled, offended that he would dare doubt Ben.
Dare doubt me.
The shifty, taunting whisper brushed across her mind before she could smother it. No, she didn’t care if he doubted her. She didn’t care how he thought about her at all, because he didn’t matter.
Only Ben did.
His lip curled into a derisive sneer. “I don’t question whether he’s mine. It’s you and your motives that I have zero trust in. So before I can make my next move, I need concrete, legal proof that he’s mine so you can’t deny me access to him.”
Her breath stalled in her throat, and she stumbled back. On a low curse, Ross moved, reaching for her, but she batted away his hands, forcing her knees to strengthen, willing every ounce of the meager strength she retained to her legs.
Though so much fear poured through her that she ached with it, she managed to speak the dreaded words. “What is that supposed to mean?” she pressed. “Before you make your next move?”
His gaze crystallized, and his big, lean body straightened so he seemed to loom larger. More intimidating. “I’ll be in touch, Charlotte. Word of advice—don’t even consider pulling another vanishing act like you did three years ago. This time I will follow.”
With those ominous words echoing in the foyer and ringing in her ears, he crossed the short space to the door, jerked it open and exited through it.
She didn’t move—couldn’t, even though Ben waited on her. Ross’s statement rooted her to the floor.
His next move.
What was he planning? Custody? Taking Ben from her? With the full weight of the Edmond name and the power of their money and connections behind him, he could. He might—
No.
The objection slammed into her head, and she fisted her fingers. No, she wouldn’t allow him to rip her baby from her arms. Not when Ross had been the first one to walk away, to abandon them both.
She shoved away from the wall, resolve gelling inside her, fortifying her.
She was no longer that lonely, needy girl who’d left Royal and nearly begged him not to turn his back on her and their baby. Motherhood had made her a warrior.
If Ross wanted a battle, then a battle was what he would get.
Four
He had a son.
Ross stared at the paternity report that had been emailed to him a couple of hours earlier. For what could’ve been the hundredth time, he scanned it, his gaze settling on the line at the bottom that changed his life forever.
“The alleged father is not excluded as the biological father of the tested child. The probability of paternity is 99.9998 percent.”
His pulse roared in his head, the thunderous crash of sound a sonorous backdrop for the seething cauldron of emotion boiling over in his chest. Shock. Fear. Pain. Joy.
God, so much joy.
Until the moment three days ago when he’d stared down into a tiny face that could’ve been a replica of his twenty-five years ago... Until he’d met familiar brown eyes brimming with curiosity and shyness... Until then, children had been a “someday” notion that bore no place in his hedonistic life. But the moment Ross met his son, someday had become now, in an instant.
He’d wanted those brown eyes to reflect delight and love when they looked at him. Wanted those arms to lift to him in a show of faith and confidence.
Ross just longed to call that beautiful boy son. To claim him as his own. And to be claimed as father in return.
The intensity of that need burned so fiercely that his skin and bones almost couldn’t contain the strength and power of that yearning.
His gaze scanned the report once more, passing over the name at the top. Benjamin Jarrett. Ben.
For some reason, he hadn’t been able to say his son’s name aloud at Charlotte’s home. As if it were some kind of talisman that would make this too real. Real, only to be stolen from him with greedy, vicious hands.
But not now. Not with these paternity test results.
“Ben,” he whispered, finally giving