Gereksiz İntikam

43

Authors pov

Theodore

The second his palm touched the curve of her belly, something inside him shifted—snapped.
It wasn’t just surprise. It wasn’t just confusion.

It was instinct.
It was claiming.

He had touched women before—countless, meaningless, forgettable touches. But this—this warmth, this fragile life beneath his hand—was not just skin and blood.
It was hers.

Taniya.

A woman who barely spoke to him. Who smiled softly but always seemed lost in some world of pain. A woman who wore silence like armor and sadness like perfume. A woman who walked like she was always preparing to run.
And still—he couldn’t look away from her. Not since that first day in the park. Not since he saw her eyes.

She had captivated him with a single glance.
Not with flirtation. Not with charm.
With pain.

And now… she was carrying someone else’s child. And that should’ve stopped him.

It didn’t.

In fact, it only made the monster inside him wake up fully.

Who hurt her?
Who left her like this?
Why was she always alone, always retreating?

His tattooed hand stayed on her belly longer than it should have. His thumb stroked instinctively, protectively—like he could calm whatever storm raged inside her with just his touch.
She flinched. He didn’t miss it.

But when he looked up, her eyes held something beyond discomfort.

Fear.

Not of him.
Of someone else.

And then he saw him.

That man assuming father of her child,Standing behind her, a shadow cloaked in fury. His jaw tight. His fists clenched. His glare murderous.

Theo recognized that look—he had seen it in his enemies before they pulled a trigger.

But that man wasn’t his enemy.

Not yet.

And still, something inside Theodore curled its lip and growled.

She doesn’t belong to him.

No.

He didn’t know how or when, but the moment his skin touched her—he had made a silent vow.

She would be his.
Not just to touch.
To protect.
To love.

The child inside her? It didn’t scare him.
The scars in her silence? He didn’t flinch.
The fury in Shoaib’s eyes? He welcomed it.

Because Theo was not a man who lost.
Not in business. Not in blood. Not in love.

And this… this strange, soft woman who smelled of heartbreak and jasmine?

She was already his.
Even if she didn’t know it yet.

It had been fucking months.

And not a single goddamn sign of her.

The girl with jasmine in her hair and bruises in her eyes had vanished—like smoke. Like she was never meant to be his to begin with.

But she was.

She was his.

He felt it in the marrow of his bones, in the phantom warmth of her belly under his hand, in the echo of her flinch when he touched her and she still didn’t push him away.