CHAPTER 114: THE WALL OF LIES

Rome stilled, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled slowly. His voice dropped to a dangerous calm.

"Okay. I’ll leave. But remember, you said it yourself. Proof. That’s all I need, right? And when I have it... make sure you hide the twins well. Because the moment I prove they’re mine... you’ll never run away from me again. Not this time."

His eyes locked coldly with mine. For a chilling moment, it felt as though the whole room had narrowed to just that stare.

He stepped closer, closing the space between us until only a few inches remained. The weight of his presence pressed down on me, making my chest tighten.

He didn’t speak, didn’t move—just stood there long enough for me to feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Then, he turned away.

Rome walked to the door and closed it gently behind him, not sparing a single glance back.

My knees threatened to give way beneath me. My eyes dropped to the floor, and only then did I realize I had been holding my breath the entire time.

When I finally exhaled, the sound came out shaky, as if the air itself was trembling inside me.

I felt drained. Empty. I couldn’t believe I had practically dared him to prove his suspicions.

What if he already has something against me? What if he finds a way in?

But no. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

And even if he did... by the time he found his proof, I would make sure the kids and I were long gone.

Still... the way his eyes had looked at me before leaving... it haunted me.

And for the first time in years, I felt afraid.

I looked up only to find Egypt and Paris peeking from the doorway.

"Mommy... is he gone?" Egypt asked.

They didn’t look as cheeky as they had earlier. Instead, they had that small, guilty look kids get when they know they’ve gone too far. They looked sorry.

I couldn’t blame them. I didn’t want to ask whether they already knew Rome was their father, or how they felt when they first found out about it.

The one question I most wanted to avoid was whether they wanted him in their lives or if they were curious about him. Just imagining their answers made my chest ache.

I forced a smile and walked over to them, pulling both of them into a tight hug.

There were so many questions on how did they know, who possibly told them but for now I let the silence sit. I let myself hold them and breathe them in.

A little while longer, then we would leave.

Maybe it was best if we kept our distance from Rome, moved somewhere he wouldn’t find us. Maybe it would help the children forget.

Maybe it was time to ask my family for help. To beg, if I had to. But would they agree? Just picturing their reactions made my stomach twist.

No... I didn’t know how I’d face my brothers and father. It’s been so long... maybe they don’t care about me anymore.

"Mommy..."

Egypt’s voice pulled me back. I realized I’d tightened my embrace without meaning to. I loosened my arms and looked down at them, trying to gather a calm I didn’t feel.

"Mommy, I want to ask something..."

I turned toward Paris, caught off guard by the seriousness in her tone. Her little brows were drawn together, her lips pressed tight.

"W-what is it?"

My voice wavered despite my attempt to sound calm.

For no reason I could explain, a nervous chill ran through me.

Paris hesitated, shifting her weight before finally meeting my gaze.

"Mommy... is that man named Rome... our father?"

It felt as if someone had poured ice-cold water over me.

My chest tightened, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

I blinked, not just once or twice, but several times, trying to ground myself, trying to find words that simply wouldn’t come.

I had always feared this moment. I had a hunch they already suspected, and deep down, they must have pieced things together in their own innocent way. But hearing it spoken out loud by them made my heart lurch painfully.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. My throat felt dry, my tongue heavy.

"H-haha... Egypt, Paris... how can you ask that? D-didn’t I tell you before... your f-father is a-already dead?"

I tried so hard not to stutter, but the way they looked at me told me one thing—they didn’t believe me.

Egypt shifted beside Paris and lifted her chin, looking at me with the same piercing gaze. Now, both of them were staring at me as if waiting for an honest answer.

"We know our father isn’t really dead, Mom. You don’t have to keep that lie..." Paris said softly, as though she was careful not to hurt me with her words.

I swallowed hard. Was I really talking to a five-year-old right now? Their maturity terrified me.

A part of me wished they could just stay innocent a little longer, like other children their age, untouched by questions this heavy.

"We just... we just want to know, Mommy," Egypt added. "Because he looks like us. And when he looks at us... it’s not the same as how other people look. Uncle Alpheus and Uncle Alfonso don’t look at us that way..."

How could they be this observant, this intuitive at their age?

Do they want to know him? Do they want Rome in their lives? Do they... already wish for him?

The thought sent a sharp ache through my chest. I wasn’t ready.

I didn’t know how to answer without shattering the fragile world I had built for them—or hurting them with a truth they weren’t ready to carry.

I crouched down in front of them, holding both their small hands in mine. My fingers trembled as I forced a smile, though my eyes stung with unshed tears.

"Paris... Egypt..." I whispered. "Did he tell you something? While I wasn’t here?"

The two of them exchanged a look, then shook their heads at the same time.

Relief passed through me, though only for a second. I drew in a deep breath, trying to calm myself, to find strength in the lie I was about to repeat.

"That man... you don’t need to know whether he’s your father or not."

My voice cracked slightly, but I pushed through.

"He already has his own family. It’s not good for you to know him. It won’t do you any good."

I didn’t know if that was a safe answer, but the moment I said it, I saw the sadness flicker in their eyes.

It broke me. I wanted to tell them the truth, but telling them would only hurt them more.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better that the truth didn’t come from me—that Rome’s place in their lives remained buried in silence.

For now... things had to stay the same.

The room grew painfully quiet after my words. Paris and Egypt didn’t argue, didn’t push further.

They simply lowered their eyes, their small shoulders drooping as if the courage they had built up to finally ask me had been shattered by yet another one of my lies.

Paris fiddled with the hem of her dress, lips pressed tight, while Egypt leaned against her.

The sight pierced through me. Children weren’t supposed to look that way—too burdened with thoughts about Rome being their father.

I wanted to gather them in my arms, take back everything I had just said, and tell them the truth instead. But my own lies hung between us like a wall I couldn’t bring myself to break.

That night, they went to bed quietly. No playful questions like usual. Just a soft, ’Good night, Mommy,’ and then silence.

I stayed by the door long after they closed their eyes, watching the rise and fall of their small chests. They looked peaceful in sleep, yet I knew their minds weren’t.

Lying awake in the dark, I felt the weight of their question pressing down on me. I could almost hear it echoing.

Is the man named Rome our father?...

I had told myself countless times that I was protecting them. That it was better this way, safer. But tonight, for the first time, I wondered if I was only protecting myself.

What would happen if the truth came out? Would they still look at me with the same love? Or would they run toward him, leaving me behind?

The thought made my chest tighten, fear coiling around me.

Rome... is he also thinking of the twins right now? Is he happy knowing they’ve begun to seek the truth too? Or maybe... maybe he isn’t thinking of them at all.

Either way, the truth was no longer safe inside me. Because now, my children had begun to seek it on their own.

Bzzzt... bzzzt...

The vibration of my phone startled me, breaking through my thoughts. One single message lit up the screen—and it was enough to steal my breath away.

’Happy birthday, my princess! I hope you enjoy this day. By the way, this is your older brother in case you’ve already deleted my number :) I want to see you and celebrate your birthday with you. Can we meet, please?’

My chest tightened. My older brother hadn’t messaged me in years. He had always been in Europe and never contacted me since I ran away from them.

But this... this meant he might be close. Somewhere here. Just the thought filled me with fear. And the one thing I had tried so hard to bury was now starting to haunt me again.