The Mistress Who Ran Away With The Twins-Chapter 161: What I Could No Longer Hide

I stayed where I was for a long moment, my back pressed against the door. My hands were shaking.

I hated that. I hated that after all this time, after everything I had built and protected. Rome could still do this to me.

"This can’t happen.." I whispered again, as if saying it louder would somehow make it true.

The house answered me with silence.

I straightened slowly, my senses sharpening. A mother learned to recognize silence that was normal and silence that wasn’t. This one felt wrong.

"Paris?" I called softly, already knowing.

No answer.

My chest tightened.

I pushed myself away from the door and walked into the living room, my steps careful. The lights were dim, the curtains half-drawn. I passed the bedroom, hoping Paris had simply gone back to sleep—but Cairo and Egypt were the only ones there, still asleep, curled into each other.

Paris wasn’t there.

My pulse spiked.

I turned toward the hallway. "Paris," I called again, a little sharper now. "Baby?"

A pause.

Then, from the shadows near the kitchen, a small figure stepped forward.

She wasn’t sleepy. She wasn’t confused.

Paris stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, dark eyes steady and unsettlingly calm for a child her age. Her hair was slightly messy, like she had rushed to hide instead of returning to bed.

My heart dropped straight to my stomach.

"How long were you awake?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

She didn’t respond right away. She looked at me the way adults did when they were deciding whether to lie or tell the truth.

That alone told me everything.

"...Long enough." she said finally.

The room suddenly felt too small.

"Paris," I said carefully, forcing my voice to soften, "you should be asleep."

"I tried," she replied. "But I heard voices."

My throat went dry.

"What voices?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Yours. And his."

There it was. I swallowed hard.

"You shouldn’t eavesdrop."

"I wasn’t," she said immediately. "I was scared."

That stopped me.

"Scared of what?"

"You.." she said simply.

The word hit harder than anything Rome had said tonight.

"Me?" I repeated, disbelief slipping through before I could stop it.

Paris nodded once. "You sounded like you were hurting."

I closed my eyes briefly.

This—this was exactly what I had been afraid of. My children seeing the cracks I worked so hard to hide.

"Come here.." I said, opening my arms.

She hesitated.

That hesitation shattered something inside my chest.

Slowly, she walked toward me—but she didn’t lean into me like she usually did. She stopped just short, looking up at my face with an expression far too serious for someone her age.

"Why did he visit you, Mom?" she asked.

I inhaled sharply.

"He just wanted to see me.." I said, choosing the safest version of the truth.

Paris didn’t look satisfied.

"He didn’t sound like he was visiting just to see you," she said. "I heard him asking if we were okay."

I forced a small smile. "You shouldn’t listen to adult conversations. He was just curious, especially about Cairo, sweetheart."

"I’m not a baby.." she replied quietly.

I could see it in her eyes, she didn’t believe me.

I knelt in front of her, lowering myself to her level. "I know you’re not. But there are still things you don’t need to know yet. Adult things that aren’t meant for kids."

Her lips pressed together.

"But I know better, Mom," she said. "I don’t get why you’re still hiding the truth from us. I know he’s the reason you get sad sometimes... no—all the time."

Her last words were barely audible, like she was saying them more to herself.

My breath caught.

Children never missed anything. They collected pieces adults thought were hidden and quietly assembled them in their minds.

"Paris—"

"I heard him say your name like it was important," she interrupted. "Like... like he was afraid."

I clenched my fists to keep them from trembling.

"You weren’t supposed to hear that."

"But I did," she said. "And I heard you tell him to leave. And I heard him say he’d come back."

My chest tightened painfully.

"That doesn’t mean he will.." I said too quickly.

Paris studied me.

"You’re panicking mom.." she said.

I froze.

"What?"

"You’re doing that thing," she continued calmly. "When your eyes move a lot and you talk faster."

I hadn’t even realized.

"Paris," I said, trying to regain control, "you’re reading too much into this."

"No, I’m not," she replied. "I want to know the truth."

The word truth hung heavy between us.

I glanced toward the bedroom instinctively toward Cairo and Egypt sleeping peacefully, afraid they would wake up and confront me too.

"This isn’t something you need to worry about," I said slowly, trying to calm both of us.

"But you are," she said. "And when you worry, it affects us. Me, Cairo, and Egypt."

My heart cracked a little.

I reached for her hands and held them gently. "Listen to me. Whatever happens, I will protect you. All of you. No matter what."

"I know," she said softly. "That’s why I need to know."

I stared at her, realizing with a jolt that this wasn’t childish curiosity.

This was fear.

"Did he hurt you?" she asked suddenly.

The air left my lungs.

"N-no," I said immediately.

"You’re lying, Mom."

This wasn’t the Paris who let things go when she doubted me. This was different. She was serious. She needed answers.

"No, Paris," I said more firmly. "He never hurt me."

"Then why do you look like that when you talk about him?"

I struggled for words.

"Because some people from our past remind us of things we worked very hard to survive," I said carefully.

She frowned. "Is he our dad?"

The world stopped.

My heart slammed so violently I thought she might hear it.

"No.." I said too fast.

Paris flinched.

I cursed myself silently.

"You didn’t even think.." she said quietly. "You just said no."

I swallowed. "Because that’s not something you should be thinking about."

"But I already did," she replied. "And so did Egypt."

Panic surged through me.

"Egypt?" I repeated. "What did she say?"

Paris hesitated. "She said... he looks like Cairo."

My vision blurred for half a second.

That was it.

That was the moment I knew the truth was no longer something I could fully control.

Familiarities.

I forced myself to breathe.

"He’s not your father," I said again, more carefully. "Your father isn’t part of your lives."

I had told that lie so many times before—especially to Paris. And every other time, she had let it go.

This time, she didn’t.

"Why?" she asked.

I wanted to say to her. Because he doesn’t know you exist. Because I ran and hid you away. Because if he knows, everything will change. Because he already has a family.

Because I’m afraid he’ll take you from me.

I couldn’t say any of it.

"Because sometimes," I said instead, "adults make choices that mean they don’t get to be part of certain stories anymore."

Paris looked down at our joined hands.

"He looked sad," she said quietly. "Like he wanted something but didn’t know how to ask."

I squeezed her hands gently. "Not everything sad belongs to us."

She was silent for a long moment.

Then she looked up, eyes clear and painfully serious.

"Are you going to let him come back?"

My chest tightened.

"I don’t know.." I admitted.

That honesty cost me.

Paris nodded slowly, filing the answer away.

"If he comes back," she said, "will you lie to us again?"

The question cut deep through me.

"I’ve never lied to you," I said softly.

She met my gaze. "I know you’re lying, Mom. I may be a child, but I know he’s our dad. He’s looking for us... but he’s afraid because he hurt you before."

It felt like my entire world stopped.

I couldn’t defend myself. I couldn’t lie again. I saw it in her eyes, she knew. And she wouldn’t accept anything less than the truth anymore.

Tears welled in her eyes, and something inside me began to crumble.

"I-I was trying to protect you," I whispered. "Egypt... and Cairo."

That was all I could say.

Silence settled between us.

It felt like I was talking to an adult—someone I couldn’t deceive.

"I know," she said gently. "But sometimes hearing the truth from you is safer than guessing."

She sounded far older than she was.

My hands trembled as I pulled her into my arms. This time, she didn’t hesitate. She hugged me just as tightly.

"I’m scared too," she admitted against my shoulder. "I know you’re hurting. We just want the truth. That doesn’t mean we’ll love you less."

"I know..sweetheart..I know.." I murmured, kissing her hair.

We stayed like that for a long moment, the house quiet around us, the weight of unspoken truths pressing in.

"I promise you this," I said finally. "No matter what happens, I will not let anyone hurt you. Not him. Not anyone."

Paris pulled back slightly, studying my face.

"And you?" she asked. "Who protects you?"

Something broke open in my chest.

"I do," I said softly. "And having you three is enough. You’re my strength. I love you."

She nodded, accepting the answer—for now.

"I love you too, Mom," she said. "But next time... don’t lie just because you’re scared of him. We’ll protect you too."

I stiffened.

"That’s not—"

"It is," she said gently. "I heard it in your voice."

Children were terrifyingly honest.

"Go back to sleep," I said softly. "We’ll talk more tomorrow."

She nodded. "Okay. But Mom?"

"Yes?"

"If he comes back," she said quietly, "I want to talk to him."

My heart clenched.

"I’ll think about it.." I said.

She didn’t smile. She simply turned and walked back to the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

I stayed kneeling on the living room floor long after she was gone.

Rome was right. This wasn’t over.

And the worst part—

It wasn’t just my truth anymore.