PROLOGUE

Sy

“Chemotherapy was unsuccessful.” His words echo around the small, stuffy office.

Three words.

I never thought three words would once again have the power to destroy me. The room is silent as we take in the devastating news. The clock ticks obnoxiously above us as I force myself not to break down in front of him, in front of Katie.

“What’s our next option?” I ask, swallowing past the lump forming in my throat. I reach out to grab Katie’s hand. Her cold grip holds onto mine, our fingers intertwining, and in that one moment I feel like the connection of our fingers, our mere touch alone, could get us through anything. Even this.

“The high-dose chemotherapy has destroyed the bone marrow. With both aggressive treatments now unsuccessful we need to prepare ourselves that a stem cell transplant is our last hope," he explains as Katie’s first sob tears from her throat. “My concern is finding a match in our time frame. Ideally, with a stem cell transplant, the best chance is a sibling donor. Since we don’t have that option, we broaden the search. I want to discuss the possibility of contacting Keira’s biological father before we move to anonymous donors. The chances of him matching are small, but as you both came back negative, we should try every avenue.”

“What?” The question gets stuck in my throat as my world spins out of control. “You must be confused.” I look from the doctor to my wife, thinking it’s some kind of sick joke.

“Oh God.” Katie draws in a sharp breath and something in me clicks.

“Katie?” I ask, pulling on her now lax hand.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Parks cuts me off, looking between both of us, his eyes growing wide as he puts something together. “I was under the assumption that you knew Keira isn’t your child.” He shifts awkwardly, looking between us.

“Sylas, I’m so sorry. This is not how I meant to tell you.” Katie pulls out of my grasp, moving away from me.

“What the fuck is going on, Katie?”

“Oh, God, don’t hate me,” she cries, rocking back and forth, holding herself.

Protecting herself.

“Hate you?” I search her face, still not sure my brain has caught up. “What are you saying?” I ask again, frantic as realization slowly creeps in.

“Keira isn’t yours,” she says, barely above a whisper, but the words blare into my ears like someone just announced it over the PA system. “Sy.” She reaches out, but my body jerks away, her words running through me, breaking through the hardness I’ve erected since our daughter became ill.

“No,” I argue, not believing what’s coming out of her mouth. It’s not true. I’ve been there every step of the way. From the first sonogram, to holding her hand as doctors figured out what was wrong with her.

This can't be real.

“I’m sorry, Sy. You have to believe me. I never meant to lie to you. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you.” She frantically tries to reach for me. I move to the door, the stuffy oncologist’s office closing in on me. I look at the woman who has had my heart from the moment she became mine. I want to scream and shake it out of her to admit she is lying, but I don't. I feel lost. Broken. My daughter lies dying in this hospital and my wife just told me she isn't even mine.

Three words.

What is it with three words?

Acute Myelogenous Leukemia.

Chemotherapy wasn’t successful.

Keira isn’t yours.

CHAPTER ONE

Sy

Seven Years Later

Have you ever looked at a stranger and felt yourself going back to another time in your life? A time you just want to completely forget. It was her laugh that grabbed my attention. The moment she walked through the door, I was shot back to the first time I met Katie. It was like déjà vu. Not an ‘I’ve done this or been here before’ type, but my reaction as I look at the smoking hot blonde who just came in, is something I have only ever felt one other time in my life. A time I try every day to keep blocked from my memory. It was as if God was playing some sick, twisted joke on me.

“What a ball of fucking sunshine.” Her sultry voice is projected to me instead of her friend. I’ve already turned her down for a tattoo, but she just won’t give up. If it wasn’t for the fact the woman she walked in with was the same woman who's had my Prez’s head messed up since last week, I would have told them to leave ten minutes ago. Looking at her now, I remember seeing her the first night at Fireside Bar when Nix was working double time to get some tail, but I didn’t take much notice of her then. I never take much notice anymore—not since Katie. But this fiery blonde has been running her mouth since the moment she stepped in to my store, and for some reason, my mind and my dick won’t let it go.

Checking the clock, I count the minutes until my Prez gets his ass down here. I called him as soon as I realized who had walked in, letting him know to get down to Ink Me if he wanted to catch the woman who’s been messing with his head for the last couple of weeks. Ever since he was called in for a meeting at his son, Z’s, school he’s been chasing his tail following the woman around. I know she’s been messing with him, and when I made the phone call, I thought I was helping him out, but I’m regretting getting involved. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do if I have to hear her friend’s voice for much longer.

“What crawled up your ass?” The blonde asks when her friend moves away to fill out the release form for body piercing. She leans over the counter, her tits pushed up for all to see. My eyes are drawn to her creamy white skin, so clean, so fucking pure. I want to tell her to shut the fuck up before I find a better use for her mouth, but I can’t seem to form a sentence.