Chapter 172
Caspar’s POV:
I watched Audrey’s face carefully, waiting for her response.
“I… I haven’t really thought about it,” she finally said, her voice
barely above a whisper.
Something sharp twisted in my chest.
I turned to look out the window, trying to mask the disappointment.
“I understand,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even.
“It was sudden.”
The car slowed as we approached the gates of my estate.
As soon as the vehicle stopped in the circular driveway, I pushed the
door open and stepped out.
I strode toward the house, my footsteps echoing on the stone path.
Behind me,
I heard Audrey’s car door open and close, her lighter
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footsteps following mine.
I paused in the grand foyer, the familiar surroundings of my home
offering little comfort.
The weight of unspoken words hung between us, heavy and
oppressive.
Making a sudden decision, I turned to face her.
“Let’s talk in the living room,” I suggested, gesturing toward the west
wing. “I think we need to clear the air between us.”
Audrey nodded, following me silently.
Once inside, I poured myself a glass of water, deliberately avoiding
alcohol.
“You’ve built walls around yourself,” I said after taking a sip.
“I can see them, Audrey, Every time we get close, you retreat behind
them.”
She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, her fingers nervously playing
with the edge of a cushion.
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“It’s not that simple, Caspar.”
“Then help me understand.” I set my glass down and moved to sit
across from her.
The space between us felt like an ocean despite being only a few feet.
Every time I tried to bridge the gap, she seemed to drift further away.
A familiar sense of powerlessness washed over me.
“I’ve let you into my life,” I continued, unable to mask the frustration
in my voice. “But you’ve always been unwilling to show me the real
you. I know you’ve hidden a lot.”
“There are things in my past…” she began, then shook her head.
“Things I’m not ready to share.”
I fell silent, studying the guarded expression on her face.
If I want her trust, I need to earn it first.
I took a deep breath, making a decision.
“Let me tell you about Noah’s mother,” I said quietly.
Audrey didn’t respond verbally, but her posture changed subtly.
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Her gaze held mine steadily, waiting with patience.
Taking a deep breath, I continued.
“She was a one–night stand. There were no feelings involved.”
I paused, watching Audrey’s reaction carefully. “Besides you, she’s the
only woman I’ve ever been with.”
“What happened?” Audrey asked softly.
“I was drugged,” I said bluntly.
“To this day, I have no memory of who she was or what exactly
happened that night.”
Audrey’s expression shifted, “Someone targeted you deliberately?”
I nodded grimly.
“A year later, this woman showed up at my door with a baby. Noah.
DNA confirmed he was mine.”
The memory still made my blood cold.
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“She demanded an obscene amount of money as ‘child support.‘ I paid
her off on the condition that she never contact Noah or me again.”
“Do you know who she was working for?” Audrey asked, her analytical
mind already connecting dots.
“No, she insisted that she was not subject to anyone.”
Audrey leaned forward, her eyes sharp.
“The person who drugged you and the person who brought Noah
might not be the same person.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It’s just…” She gestured vaguely with her hands.
“If someone wanted to sabotage you, why should they return Noah to
you?”
Watching her mind work was fascinating. “You have a point.”
I leaned back, “I’ve spent years trying to trace it back, but none of
them yielded results.”
I rubbed my temple, the familiar frustration resurfacing.
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“I could have pushed harder, dug deeper, but…” I paused, choosing my
words carefully.
“I don’t want her to appear in front of Noah, nor do I want Noah to
lose his mother. ”
“You’re protecting him,” Audrey said softly.
“Yes.” I met her eyes directly.
“Noah doesn’t know how he came to be. What good would it do him to know he was the product of someone’s scheme? That his biological
mother saw him as nothing more than leverage?”
My voice hardened slightly. “He deserves better than that story.”
Audrey nodded slowly, a flicker of understanding passing across her
face.
For a moment, the room fell into a heavy silence.
Then, as if deliberately trying to lift the weight of our conversation,
she leaned back and threw her hands up dramatically,
“God,” she sighed, leaning back into the sofa.
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“The lives you people lead. Always looking over your shoulders, never
knowing who to trust, dodging corporate espionage and paternity
schemes.”
“You people?” I raised an eyebrow.
“The ultra–wealthy,” she clarified.
“If I were you, I’d sleep with a gun under my pillow.”
That pulled a genuine laugh from me.
“What makes you think I don’t?” I countered.
The tension between us had eased, but there was still something I
needed to know.
“Now it’s your turn,” I said, my voice growing serious again. “Tell me
what happened to you in London, Audrey. What are you hiding from
me?”
Her face closed off immediately.
“I told you, I have nothing to hide,” she replied, her voice deliberately
even.
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But her eyes told a different story, a flicker of something dark passing
through them.
She stood up, her posture rigid.
“And trust me, Caspar, there are some doors that are better left
unopened. For both our sakes.”
I watched her walk toward the door, feeling both frustrated and
concerned.
Whatever she was hiding, it was eating her alive.
And until she trusted me enough to share it, we would remain at this
impasse.
As I heard the front door close behind her, I sighed and leaned back
in my chair.
In business, there was always a strategy–apply pressure here, offer concessions there, calculate the optimal approach to get what you
want.
But Audrey defied all my usual tactics.
Push too hard, and she’d retreat further. Give her space, and she’d use
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it to build higher walls.
“What am I supposed to do with you, Audrey Lane?” I whispered to
the empty room, knowing no answer would come.
