Bernardo walked toward them. His stride was long, purposeful, eating up the distance between them. He stopped a foot away from Darleen.

He was huge. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. The scent of his cologne-sandalwood and something darker-washed over her.

His eyes traveled down her face, cold and assessing. He looked at her like she was a bug on his shoe.

"So," Bernardo said, his voice a low, rough rumble. "You're the woman who thinks I owe her a wedding."

Darleen didn't step back. She met his stare head-on, her chin lifted.

"Your grandfather seemed to think so," she replied.

Bernardo let out a humorless laugh. His gaze shifted from her face to the children standing beside her.

He looked at Julian. The boy stared back, his expression blank. Bernardo's eyes narrowed. He saw the dark hair, the sharp jawline. It was like looking into a mirror from twenty years ago.

A muscle jumped in Bernardo's jaw. He looked away, breaking the connection.

"Inside," Thurston barked from the porch. "We didn't fly across the country to stand in the heat."

Bernardo turned and walked inside. Darleen followed, holding the kids' hands.

The living room was massive. White couches, white rugs, glass tables. A team of people in lab coats stood near the dining table, a metal case open on the surface. Two lawyers in dark suits stood behind them, their faces blank.

Bernardo sat on a white leather chair, crossing one ankle over his knee. He looked completely in control.

"Do it," he ordered, waving a hand at the doctors. "Get it over with."

A doctor in a white coat stepped forward, pulling out a small tray of needles and vials. He smiled at Julian and Aria.

"Hi there," the doctor said. "I just need to take a little bit of blood from your arm."

Aria saw the needle. Her eyes went wide. She let out a shriek and dove behind Darleen's legs, burying her face in the green velvet.

Darleen moved instantly. She stepped in front of the children, her body a shield between them and the doctors.

"You're scaring them," she said, her voice sharp.

Bernardo sighed, rolling his eyes. "It's a needle, not a guillotine. Stop coddling them."

"You don't get to tell me how to raise my children," Darleen shot back. "They are not lab rats. You want blood? You wait until I say it's okay."

Bernardo leaned forward, his eyes flashing with irritation. "I don't have time for your maternal theatrics."

"Then make time," Darleen said.

She turned around and knelt in front of Aria. She cupped her daughter's face, wiping away a tear with her thumb.

"It's just a tiny pinch, baby," Darleen murmured. "Like a mosquito bite. You have to be brave for Mommy, okay?"

Aria sniffled, nodding slowly.

Julian stepped up. He pulled up his sleeve without a word. He stuck his arm out toward the doctor, his face stoic.

"Make it quick," Julian said.

The doctor blinked, surprised by the boy's intensity. He swabbed Julian's arm and inserted the needle. Julian didn't even flinch. He just stared at Bernardo the whole time.

Aria was next. She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered, but she held still. Darleen kissed the top of her head.

When it was over, Bernardo stood up. He walked over to the table, rolled up his own sleeve, and sat down.

"Take mine," he told the doctor.

The doctor quickly drew a vial of dark red blood from Bernardo's arm. Bernardo didn't watch. His eyes were fixed on Darleen.

She was holding Aria, kissing her cheek. The light from the window caught the side of her face.

Bernardo's breath caught. A flash of memory-soft skin under his mouth, the taste of salt and tears. He blinked, and the image was gone.

Thurston cleared his throat. "The results will take twenty-four hours. Darleen and the children will stay in the guest wing."

"Like hell they will," Bernardo said, standing up. "This is my house. They can wait in a hotel."

"Then I'm leaving," Darleen said, her voice flat. "And you can wait for the results by yourself."

She turned and headed for the door.

"Wait," Bernardo said.

The word was sharp, commanding. Darleen stopped. She didn't turn around. She waited, her back straight, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Bernardo didn't speak immediately. He stared at her back, at the way the green dress clung to her shoulders. He felt a strange, unfamiliar pull in his chest. He hated it.

He walked past her, out the sliding glass doors that led to the massive terrace overlooking the ocean. He didn't look to see if she followed.

Darleen took a deep breath. She looked at Thurston. The old man nodded toward the terrace.

She stepped outside. The wind was stronger here, carrying the salty spray from the waves crashing below. The sun was setting, painting the sky in violent shades of orange and purple.

Bernardo stood at the railing, his back to her. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it with a heavy silver lighter. The smoke curled around his head, obscuring his face.

"Talk," he said, his voice cutting through the wind. "Tell me exactly how you think this happened."

Darleen crossed her arms over her chest, fighting the chill. "I don't think. I know."

"Then tell me," he sneered. "Enlighten me with your tragic little story."

"I don't remember everything," Darleen said, her voice tight. "It's blurry."

Bernardo turned around, his eyes mocking. "You don't remember? How convenient. You claim I fathered your children, but you can't remember the night. Were you too drunk? Or just too desperate?"

Darleen flinched. The anger, the humiliation of that night, surged up inside her, hot and acidic.

"You think you're the only victim here?" she shouted, stepping closer to him.

She reached up. Her fingers went to the collar of her dress. She pulled the fabric down, exposing her collarbone.

The skin there was smooth, except for one spot. Right below the bone, there was a faint, silvery line. A crescent moon shape. A scar.

Bernardo's cigar froze halfway to his mouth. His eyes locked onto the scar. The blood drained from his face.

He knew that shape. Not because it matched his own teeth, but because it matched the mark on his chest. The scar on her collarbone was the mirror image of the crescent-shaped bite wound he had woken up with four years ago. The same curve. The same spacing. He had spent hours in front of the mirror, tracing that scar, wondering whose teeth had marked him so deeply.

He looked at her mouth. Her lips. The faint, even line of her teeth behind them.

"It was you," Bernardo whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse. "You bit me."

Darleen let go of her collar. The fabric snapped back into place, hiding the scar.

"And you bit me," she said, her eyes blazing. "You bit me so hard I bled."

Bernardo's hand trembled. Ash fell from the end of his cigar, landing on his shoe. He didn't notice. His mind was racing, crashing through the walls he had built around that night.

"Where on the Leviathan?" he demanded, taking a step toward her. "Where exactly did I find you?"

"On the upper deck," Darleen said. "Near the stern. I was dragged up there. I was locked out in the rain. You were already there. You were out of your mind. You were like an animal."

Bernardo gripped the railing so hard the metal groaned under his fingers. "I would never-"

"But you did," Darleen interrupted. "You were rough. You were scary. But right before..." She paused, swallowing hard. "Right before the end, you kissed my tears away. You wiped my face and you kissed my eyes."

Bernardo's chest seized. The kiss. The instinct to comfort. It was a reflex he had never been able to control, not even in his darkest moments. It was the one thing that proved he wasn't a complete monster.

He didn't want to believe her. But his body was screaming that she was telling the truth.

He turned away, his voice rough. "The security footage from that night is gone. A lightning strike fried the servers. My men already confirmed it."

Darleen watched him. She saw the cracks in his armor. She saw the fear behind the anger. It was time to close the trap.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket. She opened a photo and held the screen out to him.

Bernardo looked at the screen. It was a picture of a necklace. A thick platinum chain with a pendant. A black opal, dark and swirling, with the letters 'BW' etched into the back.

"I kept this," Darleen said. "You left it in my dress."

Bernardo knew that necklace. It was a gift from his father on his eighteenth birthday. He had lost it years ago. He had assumed it was stolen.

He reached out, his fingers hovering over the screen. He needed to see the etching. He needed to see the scratch on the clasp.

Darleen pulled the phone back, hiding the screen in her palm.

"You want to see the details?" she asked, her voice cold. "Wait for the DNA test. If you are the father, I will tell you everything."