Baby Daddy Roulette

Chapter 60

I see him across the courtroom, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

Cassian Drummond. The man I almost married. The man whose bed I shared for two years, whose future I planned, whose betrayal sent me fleeing across the country to rebuild from nothing. The father of—no. Not the father. Just the man who's spent months trying to destroy everything I've created since I left him.

He looks different. Smaller, somehow, though he's still objectively tall and handsome and polished in his designer suit. But there's something hollow in his face now. Dark circles under eyes that used to sparkle with confidence and charm. A tension in his jaw that speaks to sleepless nights and mounting pressure. The golden boy tarnished by his own choices.

For one disorienting second, I feel sorry for him.

Then I remember the hate mail that arrives daily. The leaked deposition plastered across TMZ. The paid witness who lied under oath. The systematic, deliberate campaign to tear apart everything I've built. And the sympathy evaporates like morning fog burned away by harsh sun.

The hearing begins with legal formalities—motions, objections, the careful dance of procedure. Diane presents our evidence with surgical precision. The bank records tracing payments to Marcus Webb. The forensic analysis linking the shell company to Cassian's management. The timeline proving the deposition leak originated from the opposing counsel's office.

Brennan tries to object, to spin, to minimize. The judge—an older woman with steel-gray hair and zero tolerance for bullshit—shuts him down repeatedly.

"Mr. Brennan, I've reviewed the evidence submitted by both parties. The pattern here is deeply concerning."

"Your Honor, my client maintains—"

"Your client maintains a fiction that is rapidly unraveling." Judge Morrison's voice is ice. "I'm inclined to grant the motion to dismiss, but first I'd like to hear from Dr. Marlowe directly."

My turn.

I walk to the witness stand on legs that feel like they belong to someone else. Diane prepared me for this. Human and honest. Let the evidence speak.

"Dr. Marlowe," Diane begins, "can you describe the impact of this lawsuit on your life and family?"

I take a breath. "For the past several months, I've lived under constant attack. My professional reputation has been questioned. My fitness as a mother has been debated by strangers. My children—" My voice catches. "My children are too young to understand why their mother cries when she reads her email. But they feel it. They feel the tension, the fear, the instability that Mr. Drummond's actions have caused."

"And what do you believe Mr. Drummond's motivations are?"

"Revenge." The word comes out clear and certain. "I left him after discovering his infidelity. I refused to stay silent. And for that, he's tried to destroy me using every tool at his disposal—fabricated evidence, paid witnesses, leaked documents. Not because he wants custody of children he's never met, but because he can't accept that I moved on."

Brennan objects. The judge overrules.

I continue. "I'm not asking for special treatment. I'm asking for the same standard we would apply to anyone who weaponizes the legal system against a former partner. What Mr. Drummond has done isn't just harassment—it's abuse. And it needs to stop."

When I step down, I catch Cassian's eye. He's staring at me with an expression I can't read. Anger, yes. But underneath—something else. Something that looks almost like recognition.

Then it's his turn.

Brennan calls him to testify, a last-ditch effort to humanize his case. Cassian takes the stand with the practiced ease of someone who's performed for crowds his entire life.

But something's off.

He stumbles over his prepared statements. Contradicts himself twice. When Diane cross-examines him about the payments to Marcus Webb, he goes pale.

"I didn't—my management team handled—I wasn't aware—"

"You weren't aware that your own agency was paying witnesses to lie under oath?"

"I trusted them to handle the legal strategy."

"So you're claiming ignorance?"

"I'm claiming—" He stops. Something cracks in his composure. For a moment, the mask slips completely, and I see the man underneath. Not the villain. Not the narcissist. Just someone who's lost everything and doesn't understand how it happened. Someone who had every advantage—talent, looks, money, opportunity—and squandered it all because he couldn't be faithful, couldn't accept rejection, couldn't let go.

"I loved her," he says, barely audible. The courtroom strains to hear. "I know I made mistakes. I know I hurt her. But I loved her, and she left, and everything since then has been—" He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing. "I don't know how it got this far. I didn't mean for it to become this. I just wanted—I don't know what I wanted anymore."

The courtroom is silent. Even Diane pauses, caught off-guard by the raw vulnerability. Brennan looks horrified—his client falling apart on the stand isn't part of any strategy.

I watch him—this man I once thought I'd spend my life with—and I see what he could have been. The charm without the cruelty. The ambition without the destruction. If he'd chosen differently. If he'd been capable of accepting loss instead of weaponizing it.

But he wasn't. He isn't. And recognition of wasted potential doesn't erase the damage.

Judge Morrison clears her throat. "I've heard enough."

The ruling comes down like a gavel.

Lawsuit dismissed with prejudice. Cassian was ordered to pay court costs and legal fees. A formal referral to the state bar regarding Brennan's conduct. Strong language about abuse of process and the court's dim view of fabricated evidence.

We won.

Diane squeezes my hand under the table. Axel and Mateo, watching from the gallery, break into barely contained relief. I should feel triumphant. Vindicated. Free.

Instead, I feel hollow. Exhausted. Like I've been running a marathon and someone just told me the finish line moved.

Because Judge Morrison isn't finished.

"However," she continues, and my blood goes cold. "The matter of paternity remains unresolved. While this lawsuit has been dismissed, Mr. Drummond retains the right to file an independent paternity claim. Given the circumstances, I'm ordering that DNA samples be collected from all parties and held in escrow pending any future proceedings."

DNA samples. Held in escrow.

Not tested yet. But available. Waiting.

The hearing adjourns. People shuffle out. I sit frozen in my chair while the implications sink in.

Cassian passes our table on his way out. Pauses. Leans close enough that only I can hear.

"You think this is over?" His voice is quiet. Broken. But underneath the defeat, something darker stirs. "I know things, Selene. About that night. About the timeline. About which children belong to which man." His smile is a ghost of its former charm. "You want to keep pretending biology doesn't matter? Fine. But the truth has a way of surfacing. And when it does—I'll be ready."

He walks away before I can respond.

Axel and Mateo reach me seconds later, pulling me into a three-way embrace that should feel like victory.

"We won," Mateo says. "It's over."

But Cassian's words echo in my head. I know things. The truth has a way of surfacing.

"It's not over," I whisper. "He's not done."

The DNA samples sit in escrow. A bomb waiting to explode. Evidence that could tear apart the careful fiction we've built—that biology doesn't matter, that all three children belong equally to all three of us.

And Cassian just lit the fuse.