This Union of Bastard Blood

On the way home, Ronan excitedly shoved his phone in my face.

The screen was a sea of headlines: [Cillian Rafferty Betrays the Don's Daughter], [Donnelly Family Vows Revenge], [Rafferty's Assets Plummet].

The internet had exploded. Cillian scrambled to suppress the news, but it was useless. I had made the media's choice simple: help him, and you make an enemy of the Donnellys.

Realizing I was serious, the Raffertys appeared on my doorstep bearing expensive gifts and sycophantic smiles.

"Sierra," Declan began, his voice laced with a humility he didn't feel, "it must have been that girl, India, who seduced Cillian. We'll handle her. Please, just find it in your heart to forgive him this once."

Maeve added smoothly, "And the child is born now. He's a life, and he carries the family blood, in a manner of speaking. Why not register him under your name? We'll send India away, make sure she never troubles you again."

I laughed, the sound sharp and cold. "Don't bother. India and Cillian are a perfect match. Why not let them marry? A fairytale ending."

"Sierra is a Donnelly. Your disgraceful son isn't fit to breathe the same air," Ronan sneered. "A bastard thinks he can claim a place in our family? In his dreams."

I placed a calming hand on his arm, then fixed my gaze on the elderly couple. "I don't need an apology. And I don't want that child."

Just then, Cillian burst in, followed by India and the baby. His face was a thundercloud of anxiety. Seeing his parents groveling, he exploded. "They already apologized! What more do you want?"

I ignored him, tossing the Donnelly family's decree of exile onto the coffee table. "From this day forward, any person or business that collaborates with the Rafferty family is an enemy of the Donnelly family. Let's see how long your little enterprise lasts without our support."

The words landed like a physical blow. Declan and Maeve stared, speechless.

Maeve suddenly lunged for the infant in India's arms, her face contorted with rage. "It's all this damn bastard's fault!"

Her fingers dug into the baby's arm as if to strangle him. "You hate this child, don't you? Don't worry, Sierra! I'll kill him right now and give you your justice!"

"Stop! Give me back my son!" India shrieked, lunging forward.

Cillian snatched the baby from Maeve's grasp and pushed India behind him, glaring at me. "How can you be so venomous? You're just jealous. You can't have one of your own, so you have to destroy mine? You can't stand the fact that he even exists?"

His words hit their mark, a cruel jab at the scar on my soul. Years ago, I took a bullet for him. The price was my womb, my ability to give the Donnelly family an heir—a duty he knew was my life's purpose. Yet he'd never once questioned India's story. She was not my father's biological daughter.

"Are you so sure that child has a drop of Donnelly blood?" I asked, my voice soft.

India clutched the baby, tears streaming down her face. "Cillian, please, you have to believe me. The baby is yours."

Cillian wrapped a protective arm around her, his eyes hardening at me. "Stop your lies! You're just jealous because you're barren."

A slow, knowing smile spread across my face. "Am I? Then tell me, why does the child look nothing like you?"

"Don't listen to her," India pleaded, grabbing his arm. "Look at his eyes, his nose. He looks just like you did as a baby."

Cillian caressed the infant's cheek, the gesture so tender it made my stomach turn.

I'd seen enough of their melodrama. I looked him straight in the eye. "I never said the child wasn't yours, Cillian. I said he has no Donnelly blood. You wanted a child that would unite our families, didn't you? I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed."

I threw the paternity test onto the floor between them. "India has no blood relation to my family whatsoever."