For the sake of his illegitimate child, my child died

James’ POV

Sasha pressed herself against me the moment we stepped into the private cabin of the yacht—like she owned the room, like she owned me. Her perfume filled the air, sweet and heavy, matching the dim golden lights reflecting off the polished wood.

“Finally… alone,” she murmured, fingers sliding over my shirt, tracing the lines of my chest with deliberate ease.

She knew exactly what she was doing—slow enough to tease, confident enough to provoke.

I caught her wrist before she went lower. “Stop. Nicole might arrive any minute. She can’t see this.”

Sasha rolled her eyes, the soft, mocking kind she’d perfected. Then she leaned in and brushed her lips along my jaw, warm and lingering. “So what?” she whispered. “She’s not stupid. She knows. And today…” Her mouth curved into a slow smile. “…today’s the day we end her, right? Shouldn’t we celebrate?”

Her breath skimmed my neck, hot and deliberate. She pushed me backward until I hit the couch, the leather cool beneath me. She straddled my lap with practiced ease, her hands settling on my shoulders.

“Come on, James,” she purred. “She’s served her purpose. After tonight, she won’t be our problem anymore.”

Her words slid through me like a dark promise. I should’ve stopped her again—should’ve thought about the plan, the timing, everything at risk—but the tension in my chest finally loosened. Sasha always gave me that: distraction, escape, chaos wrapped in silk.

“Fine,” I muttered, giving in as she leaned down to kiss me. “But make it quick.”

She smirked. “Quick isn’t nearly as fun.”

She kissed me harder—desperate, triumphant—her fingers weaving into my hair, her body pressing closer. The yacht rocked gently beneath us, the ocean calm and quiet outside, while inside the air thickened with heat.

For a while, the plan, Nicole, everything—disappeared. We forgot the world beyond that cabin, lost in the thrill of what we thought we controlled.

And neither of us imagined how wrong we were.

Two hours later, I glanced at the clock. Nicole still hadn’t arrived.

I pulled away from Sasha, irritation flaring. “It’s been two hours. Where the hell is she?”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re worrying about her now?”

I ignored her and called the butler. “Where’s Nicole? She should’ve been here already.”

The butler answered immediately, voice steady. “Sir, Mrs. Wilson left the house on schedule. The driver said she should have arrived at the port thirty minutes ago.”

I frowned. “Well, she’s not here.”

A pause. “Sir… perhaps she—”

I hung up and dialed Nicole. Once. Twice. Five times.

No answer.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered. “Where the hell did she go?”

Sasha slid behind me, arms looping around my waist. “Maybe she went somewhere else. Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe she finally realized she shouldn’t disturb us.”

She pressed a kiss on my shoulder. “Let’s not deal with this now. She’s probably sulking somewhere.”

“No.” My voice came out sharply. “You know we can’t let her loose for long. She needs to be disposed of, Sasha. Otherwise we’ll spend the rest of our lives hiding like this. Do you want that?”

She paused, then clicked her tongue. “Fine. I’ll do the work.”

She grabbed her phone, stepping aside as she dialed a number I didn’t recognize.

“Hello,” she said sweetly. “I need your agency for something simple. Urgent.”

A pause.

“Yes. The same men my father used before.”

My attention sharpened.

She continued, “Look for a black SUV with plate number—” She rattled off the numbers without hesitation, her eyes meeting mine, triumphant. “Make it look like an accident. I don’t care how. Just make sure whoever’s inside dies.”

She hung up and smiled. “See? Easy.”

I exhaled slowly.

She walked back, lifted my chin, and whispered, “Once it’s done, we’ll just pay someone in the hospital to finish the job. Nicole always survives things she shouldn’t. It’s annoying.”

I didn’t respond. Not at first.

Sasha kept going, her voice smooth and poisonous. “Honestly, the only reason she’s still alive is because you said you needed her for the inheritance. But that’s a nuisance. If she’s dead, even your family won’t care. And we—” she pressed a kiss against my neck, slow and confident “—can finally do whatever we want.”

A part of me—small, buried—hesitated. Nicole had been with me for years. She had stood beside me when no one else cared. There was a flicker of something like guilt. Or maybe it was just the memory of how simple life used to be when she believed every lie I told.

But that flicker died just as quickly.

Sasha’s warmth pressed closer, her breath against my ear. “James… imagine it. No more pretending. No more hiding. Just us.”

I exhaled, letting the last bit of hesitation fade. The thought was freeing.

“Maybe you’re right,” I murmured.

Her smile widened—smug, victorious. She pulled me back onto the bed, curling her body around mine like she’d already claimed everything. Her leg draped over me; her fingers traced lazy circles on my chest. The yacht swayed gently, the night outside calm and silent.

I forced the thoughts away. Sasha shifted closer, kissing my shoulder. “Relax. Everything’s under control.”

And I believed her.

The warmth, the quiet, the illusion of victory lulled me. We drifted off, tangled in sheets and arrogance, convinced the world would bend exactly how we wanted.

Then the phone rang.

A sharp, jolting sound at 2:17 a.m.

Sasha groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. “Ignore it…”

But the ringing didn’t stop. Irritated, I grabbed the phone. It was the butler.

“What?” I snapped.

His voice was frantic. “Sir— you need to come to the hospital. Immediately.”

My irritation sharpened. “Why? What now?”

“It’s Nico,” he said, voice trembling. “He—he got into an accident. He’s critical.”

Sasha bolted upright, her face draining of color. “WHAT?!”

The butler continued, “They’re preparing for emergency surgery. They need you here. Now.”

The line clicked dead.