Chapter 15

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Robyn's POV...

Kyle burst into my room unannounced, his entire face was red and filled with sweat. I've got to admit, it was kind of hot, I could practically see his six pack through his sweaty shirt; and that jaw line... Oh geez, I'm drooling over a man that is ruining my life.

My bored and uninterested expression lets up a bit, but I quickly manage to stand it back up. "Can I help you?"

"When were you going to tell me that I have a son?" He asks with gritted teeth, and my blood goes cold. "WHEN?" He shouts, as I remain silent in shock.

"Where is he? What did you do?" I pant, rising off the bed. To others, my face would look like a ghost, or perhaps a zombie... Whatever. The color drains from my face, and my fingertips go cold. He's going to fucking kill me.

"What did I do?! It's what you did!" He continues to shout. "Now answer me. Why the FUCK did I not know?!" He clenches his fists, anger flowing out of his eyes.

"I didn't want you to! I wanted to live peacefully and away from you! You are dangerous! This... LIFE is dangerous!" I yell back.

"Fucking hell, Robyn!" He curses, running his hands through his hair. "Do you know how much more dangerous NOT telling me was?!" Kyle chastises, looking me dead in the eye.

"I didn't want my son living in this life! I wanted him to be normal! Not forced to kill and rob and be a criminal!" I fire back, flinging my arms all around. "He's safer with me than he is with you!"

"Then why the FUCK is he being held for ransom? Well?" He spits, his voice only growing louder. "Why the hell isn't he safe? Huh? BECAUSE I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT HIM."

If my blood wasn't already cold, it was now. I could feel the tears rushing to my eyes—my little boy was kidnapped. "R-ransom?" My voice shakes, sitting back onto the edge of the bed.

"For two billion." He says, his voice lowered a few octaves. At that, I let out a sob. Before he knew it, I was on my feet, rushing to him. My hands would shoot out, grabbing his upper arms and shaking them, all while being a crying mess.

"You've got to save him. Please!" I beg, continuing to shake him. "Save my baby! Please! Don't let them hurt him!"

He grips my arms, ceasing the shaking. "Calm down," He says sternly. "I am."

The tears wouldn't stop flowing, what if they kill him? What if he's hurt? This is all my fault... I'm the reason that Owen has been taken... "How?" My shaky voice sounds.

Kyle takes a long, deep breath, letting go of my arms. "They want me to go to this warehouse with the money tomorrow. My men are working on a plan of action. I'll go there, give the money, grab the kid, and get out." He grits out, clearly angry.

"What if it's a trap? What if Owen is safe?" I question. "Couldn't this be a trick?"

"Owen?" Kyle looks to me with confusion and I give him a 'duh' look.

"My son."

"Oh, it's no trap. After the call was finished, he sent proof." He says nonchalantly, as if it wasn't a big deal. Oh, he's trying to get on my nerves, he did this four years ago when I screamed at him for keeping me in the penthouse. AKA kidnapping me.

"Be real, Kyle. Stop acting like you don't give a shit. This may be hard for you to believe, but I thought I was protecting him from dangerous people like you." I snap, crossing my arms lightly. "And although in the long run, what I did was shitty, this is my... Our son We are discussing right now, and he's been taken. Enough with your attitude!"

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have to be saving my son, because he'd be safe here. If it weren't for you, I would know my child and wouldn't be a stranger in his eyes. Now, I'm going to go fix this fucking mess and get to know my fucking son." He grits out, letting out an angry huff, and storming off.

Part of me feels bad, but the other part of me doesn't. A father was deprived of his son, but my intentions were for the safety of Owen's happiness. I didn't want him to grow up in this environment full of killing, drugs, and abuse of power.

Owen has always been interested in art. Matilda is always telling me how he sits down and colors for hours in her care. For his age, he's fairly advanced. At three, he's begun to color inside the lines, it isn't just scribbles of color on paper. I keep a gallery of art on the fridge, and everyday Owen adds to it.

In his future, I imagine him to be an artist, not a fucking mafia leader. Owen won't hurt a fly, even when Ricky is mean to him, he just remains passive.

The only reason Kyle scares me is because of Owen. Will he cast me away and never let me see him again? Will he turn Owen into a killing machine? Oh God, please don't let those questions happen. I couldn't live without my son... 

My body slumps back onto the bed where I was originally. My eyes focus on the ceiling, seeing as there was nothing else for me to do here but bask in my horrible parenting choices.

Kyle's anger is justified, but I just hope his anger doesn't force him to do anything rash or uncalled for. If I found out I had a son just as he did, there would be no doubt that I'd be furious.

I just hope that he sees my reasoning for keeping him from his son. I hope he will understand my fears; If he doesn't, I don't know what he'll do.

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