Page 22 of Secret Betrayals


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She pulls a folder from her bag and hands it to Malikai, our son.Myson. The word still tastes foreign on my tongue.

He stands and walks it over to me. I take it, hands steady, even though I feel like I’m spinning inside. Seventeen years. I don’t know their full names. Don’t even know if they carry mine.

I flip through the pages. It’s all there. Reports. Financials. Details I hadn’t seen.

I pass the copies to Axel and the brothers.

But all I can think is—

We have sons.

And I’ve already lost years with them.

Once everyone has the documents, she addresses the room again, her voice cool and clipped. “As you can see from the annotated scales, there’s a consistent discrepancy between pickup and drop-off. We estimate the loss from the first occurrence to now to be eight hundred grand of product. How none of you noticed is beyond me. Our investigation doesn’t lie. Someone is skimming during transit.”

Gabriella’s tone is all business—detached, mechanical. And that’s when it hits me. That’s her default now. Cold. Controlled. Like, none of this touches her.

Grumbling starts up around the room, curses thrown under their breath. I look at my brothers, raising a hand to shut it down. “Quiet.” This is serious. Real fucking serious. And we need to listen.

Damn. How the hell did we get here? I shake my head, forcing myself to focus, even as my mind spins from everything that’s happened.

“We conducted an internal investigation,” she continues, unfazed by the tension. “No issues were found with our trucks or weigh stations. Other crews use the same equipment—no discrepancies, no red flags. We even rotated the trucks your club uses. Still, the losses continue. That rules out coincidence.”

Her eyes sweep the room, lingering a second longer on me before she adds, “We need this resolved. Quickly. Whoever’sresponsible needs to be handled. I prefer to take care of it myself, since they’re stealing fromme, not just the club. But… this is your club, your mess. You’ll handle it—under our supervision. That’s the only concession I’m offering. For now.”

There’s a pause, the weight of her words hitting hard. Not a threat. A deadline.

“What in the actual fuck?” Nitro growls, his voice tight with fury.

She doesn’t flinch. “Since you’ll likely want to address that matter privately with your officers, let’s move on to theotherissue. Shall we?” She raises a brow at me, a question laced behind the calm. She's asking if we’re doing this with everyone still here.

Fuck that. No way.

“Everyone except Axel and Nitro—get the fuckout,” I snap. “Church officers only, noon tomorrow. So don’t get too fucked up tonight. What happened in this room stays in this room. Got me?”

I hear a chorus of agreement and low muttering answers. No one argues. They shuffle out, a few trying to break the tension with nervous chuckles. I don’t laugh. I don’t even blink. My eyes stay locked on her the entire time.

The room clears. Silence settles.

And I’m left sitting here, staring across the table at the woman who used to be mine, realizing the one thing I can’t ignore anymore.

I have a fucking sons.

Six

When they say Karma is a bitch, they weren’t fucking lying.

Idon't hold back once the last brother exits, and the door shuts behind him. “You better motherfucking explain yourself,” I bite out, every syllable thick with rage. It’s not the kind of anger that shouts to be heard—it burns low and dangerous, like a fuse waiting for detonation. “I know for a fucking fact you didn’t tell me shit. Not on the phone. Not in a single damn text after the day you left. You asked me to call you when I got my shit together—that’s it.”

My chest is heaving. I’m barely keeping it together.

“Not one goddamn word about being pregnant. Withmykids.”

I pause, eyes locked on her like a trigger I’m fighting not to pull.

“What kind of game is this, Gabriella?” My voice drops, hard and cold. “Because there is no way inhellI wouldn’t want toknow. Wouldn’t want to see my fucking kids. No way.” I say, shaking my head.

The weight of it—all the time lost, all the moments I’ll never get back—crashes into my chest like a steel fist. I slam my hand on the table. The sound cracks through the room like a gunshot, sharp and final.