Baby Daddy Roulette

Chapter 27

My brain short-circuits.

Cassian Drummond. In Seattle. At my apartment door at six-thirty in the morning like this is a normal thing normal people do.

I cycle through emotions at Olympic speed: rage (how dare he), fear (what does he want), confusion (seriously, what could we possibly have to discuss that requires cross-country stalking).

Before I can form words—before I can tell him exactly where he can shove his uninvited house call—he starts talking.

"Selene." His smile is that megawatt thing that used to make me feel madly in love. Now it just makes me want to call security. "I've been thinking. About us. About what happened."

"There is no 'us.' There hasn't been for over two years."

"Let me finish." He holds up one hand like he's conducting traffic. "I heard about the babies. Through the grapevine, you know how the NBA is. And I did the math, Selene. The timeline works out."

My stomach drops straight through the floor. "The timeline for what?"

"They're mine, aren't they? The triplets." He says it with such certainty, such entitled conviction. "I get it now. Why you left. You found out you were pregnant and panicked. But we can fix this. I'm here to apologize—"

"Stop." My voice comes out low, controlled. Inside the apartment, I can hear Sören's crying escalating, hear Mateo's soothing Spanish murmur. I need Cassian gone before this gets worse. "The timeline doesn't work. They're not yours."

"Don't lie to protect them." He gestures vaguely, presumably at Axel and Mateo even though he can't see them. "I know what this is. You're embarrassed, you don't want to admit—"

"I'm not lying. The math doesn't work. I know exactly when I conceived, and you were nowhere near me."

His smile falters. "Selene, come on. We were together for six years. Those are my kids. You can't keep my children from me."

"They're not your kids!" My voice rises despite my best efforts to stay calm. "They have nothing to do with you. You need to leave."

"I have rights—"

"You have nothing! You lost any right to be in my life when you decided a birthday party with two cheerleaders was more important than six years of loyalty!"

From inside, Sören's crying intensifies. Cassian's eyes narrow. "You're being dramatic. After everything I gave you—my name, my status, access to the best—"

"You gave me trauma and trust issues!" I'm not keeping my voice down anymore. Can't. Two years of suppressed rage is bubbling up. "You humiliated me in front of the entire organization. You made me look like a fool while everyone knew—"

"That's what this is about? Some misplaced ego? I'm the franchise star, Selene. That comes with certain expectations—"

"It comes with basic human decency! Something you've never understood because you think being good at basketball makes you exempt from being a decent person!"

"You're being unreasonable—"

"I'm being unreasonable? You flew to Seattle, stalked my address somehow, and showed up at my door demanding access to children who aren't yours because your ego can't handle that I moved on!"

Aria starts crying—high-pitched, scared, picking up on the yelling. That particular escalation that says she's moved past confused straight into terrified.

Then I hear footsteps.

Axel appears in the hallway behind me, shirtless, wearing only sweatpants, looking like a Norse god who woke up ready for violence. His ice-blue eyes lock onto Cassian with the kind of intensity usually reserved for championship games and mortal enemies.

He doesn't say anything. Just positions himself between me and Cassian, his whole body radiating controlled fury.

Behind him, Mateo emerges from the nursery with Aria against his chest, bouncing her gently, murmuring Spanish reassurances while shooting daggers at Cassian over my shoulder.

Cassian's face does something ugly. The mask drops completely—that charming smile replaced by something nasty and possessive.

"So this is what you left me for?" His voice drips with contempt. "Two of my former teammates? You really are a—"

Axel moves before Cassian can finish.

One hand on Cassian's arm—not grabbing, not violent, but absolutely firm—guiding him backward with the kind of authority that says this isn't negotiable.

"Time to leave," Axel says, voice flat and arctic.

"Get your hands off me—" Cassian tries to resist, but Axel's six-foot-eight and built like a Viking who discovered protein shakes. The size difference is almost comical.

"You're leaving." Axel's already walking him toward the stairwell, one hand maintaining that firm guidance that's somehow more threatening than actual violence would be. "Now."

I watch them disappear into the hallway, and then Cassian's voice echoes back, getting louder, more desperate:

"You're all going to regret this! Everyone's going to know what kind of person she really is! I'll make sure the whole league knows! I'll make sure everyone—"

The stairwell door slams.

Silence.

Then footsteps. Axel returns, closing my apartment door with careful precision, and immediately crosses to me.

"Are you okay?" His hands find my shoulders, thumbs stroking gently while those ice-blue eyes search my face. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. I'm—" My voice comes out shaky. "How did he find my address?"

"Doesn't matter. He's gone."

Behind us, Mateo's still holding Aria, who's calmed down but keeps making those post-cry hiccup sounds. Elio and Sören are crying now too—Mateo must have left them in the nursery when he heard the commotion.

"I should—" I gesture toward the crying. "They're scared—"

"I've got them." Mateo's already moving, Aria still in his arms. "You process. We'll handle the babies."

I watch him disappear into the nursery, hear his voice shift into soothing mode, and something in my chest cracks.

Cassian was here. In my home. The violation of it hits like a physical thing—this space that was supposed to be safe, that I've built carefully for two years, just got contaminated by my past showing up uninvited.

"Hey." Axel's voice pulls me back. "Look at me."

I do. His expression is softer now, concerned in that Axel way where he doesn't say much but his eyes tell you everything.

"He meant those threats," I whisper. "About telling everyone. About making sure—"

"Let him." Axel's jaw is tight. "We already put out a statement. Already took control of the narrative. Whatever he says now just makes him look pathetic."

"But what if—"

"No what-ifs." His hands move to cup my face. "He doesn't get to scare you anymore. He doesn't get power over your life. Not after what he did."

From the nursery, the crying's stopped. I hear Mateo singing something in Spanish—completely off-key but somehow working because babies don't have standards about pitch.

"He thought they were his," I say, still processing. "He actually thought—"

"He thought wrong." Axel's voice is firm. "Those kids are yours. Period. And if he tries to come back, if he tries anything, he'll have to go through both of us first."

I believe him. Looking into those ice-blue eyes that have never lied to me, I believe him completely.

My hands are shaking—adrenaline crash hitting hard. Axel pulls me into his chest, arms wrapping around me, solid and certain and safe.

"He's gone," he murmurs against my hair. "He can't hurt you anymore."

But we both know that's not entirely true.

Because Cassian Drummond doesn't make threats he doesn't intend to follow through on.

And judging by the fury in his voice before Axel removed him, this isn't over.

Not even close.