Barren Heiress Returns With Quadruplet

Zeke’s POV

Standing in front of the dresser mirror in my closet, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of vulnerability beneath my carefully crafted facade of confidence and control. Despite how firm I thought I was, Kamille always had a way of stirring emotions in me that I did not think I would have towards her.

My thoughts were consumed by her avoidance of me, her silence echoing loudly in the empty room. I longed for her response, yet the lack of it only deepened my unease.

I asked myself questions as though I were in her shoe. Why would she come to see me? Why would she believe anything I say? Could she not have noticed the missing photo of her kids?

The kids that look so much like me but Kamille has refused to admit my fatherhood over them

I walked back into the room, as I searched for the photograph she had left behind. I had kept the photo on the bedstand but I could not find it there anymore Where could it have gone? Did someone take it, or was it simply misplaced? Frustration gnawed at me.

Interrupting my search, a notification on my phone drew my attention away. Opening the email, I found background information on Nanny Dona, the woman Kamille had chosen to care for her children. Relief washed over me as I read through the details.

The detailed report painted a picture of a dedicated and trustworthy caregiver with decades of experience. Dona had spent the majority of her life working as a nanny, caring for children of all ages with love and compassion. Her references spoke highly of her nurturing nature, her reliability, and her genuine affection for the children under her care.

I felt reassured that she posed no threat to our family.

Dressed up in a well tailored navy blazer paired with a crisp white button-down shirt and perfectly fitted dark jeans, I made my way downstairs to the dining room. The table was elegantly set with fine china and silverware, a centerpiece of fresh flowers adding a touch of sophistication to the room.

“Good evening Sir.” He greeted me with a nod and a warm smile, his demeanor as composed as usual.

“Good evening Rogers.” I replied and walked past him.

I took my seat at the table and pulled out a napkin. Zane and Fletcher had been waiting for me at the casino, so I had to immediately begin my food.

The aroma of dinner filled the air, tempting my senses as I surveyed the spread before me. The table was adorned with an array of dishes, succulent roast chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, and crisp steamed vegetables.

As I began to eat, I noticed Mr. Rogers excuse himself briefly to take a call. I watched him go, a sense of unease settling over me, but I continued my meal.

“Excuse me, Sir.” He said politely, gesturing towards his phone. “You may like to take this call.”

My demeanor remained cold as I asked, “From who?” I tightened my grip on the cutlery, my fingers tracing the polished silverware.

“From Andrew, the chief security personnel,” Mr. Rogers replied calmly, his voice steady.

Without a word, I dropped the cutlery and reached for the phone Mr. Rogers handed me. “What?” I demanded, my tone sharp and commanding.

Andrew’s voice on the other end was unwavering as he delivered the news. “Sir, Kamille is all dressed up and leaving her house premises.”

Confusion furrowed my brow. “With her friends?” I asked, my hand hovering mid-air as I reached for a glass of water.

But Andrew’s response stopped me short. “No, sir.” He replied. “Her attire suggests she’s going out for a dinner date.”

Tension coiled in my chest as I processed the information. Anger simmered beneath my composed exterior, mingling with frustration and a twinge of betrayal. The realization that Kamille had ignored my message but was going out on a date, stung more than I cared to admit.

I gulped hard, feeling my Adam’s apple bulge with the movement. “Describe how she’s dressed.” I demanded, my voice tight with a mixture of anxiety and frustration.

Andrew’s description painted a vivid picture in my mind. He spoke of her beautiful face, adorned with carefully applied makeup, her hair styled elegantly. He described her attire, the way it accentuated her figure and added to her allure. With each word, I could almost see her standing before me, radiating beauty and confidence.

Despite myself, a pang of longing and admiration welled up within me. Kamille had always possessed a magnetic charm, a presence that drew others to her effortlessly. And now, as Andrew described her appearance, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride mixed with a tinge of jealousy.

The thought of her out on a dinner date with someone else gnawed at me, filling me with a sense of unease and uncertainty.

As jealousy coursed through me at the thought of Kamille going on a date without responding to my messages, a surge of anger welled up within me. I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening as I fought to contain the roiling emotions threatening to consume me.

With a steely glare, I said to Andrew. “If I ever hear you describe Kamille in such a manner again, I’ll cut out your eyes and tongues.” I spat, my voice low and menacing.

Andrew quickly offered out an apology. “I’m sorry, sir.” He muttered.

I took a deep breath, trying to rein in my temper. “Split the security team.” I ordered, my tone clipped and authoritative. “Some should station at the house and watch over the kids, while others should follow her discreetly. Send me the address of where she’s going and ensure she doesn’t notice or suspect anything.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Understood Sir.” Andrew replied frantically, scrambling to comply with my orders.

After ending the call, I rose abruptly from the table, my appetite gone in the face of my overwhelming emotions. Mr. Rogers trailed behind me as I strode purposefully outside, my mind consumed by thoughts of Kamille and the unsettling revelation of her plans.

What the fuck are you planning Kamille?

Reaching my sleek BMW parked nearby, I turned to the driver and demanded the car key. Without hesitation, he presented it to me, his expression betraying no hint of surprise at my sudden departure.

Snatching the key from his hand, I turned to enter the driver’s seat. Then Mr. Rogers spoke up hesitantly. “Sir, should I accompany you?” He asked, concern evident in his voice.

I paused, considering his offer for a moment. But ultimately, I shook my head. “No, I’ll handle this alone.” I replied firmly. “You can retire for the night.”

Mr. Rogers nodded, albeit reluctantly. “As you wish, sir.” He said before stepping aside, waiting for my departure.

With a sense of determination, I settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine. As I pulled out of the driveway and onto the open road, I couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty gnawing at me.

But I left nonetheless. So with a sharp twist of the key, I accelerated into the night.