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To The Guy I Met At The Bar I Have Your Sons

“Had I ever told you that I want you dead?” “What a coincidence, I want you dead too.” Kimberly Rollins and Vincent Walters are like cats and dogs, archenemies one might say. Clawing and barking is a normal thing, and they can’t bear to see each other’s face, but no matter how they don’t want to see each other, they are bound by a link that can’t be broken; Their sons. Six years ago, they had a steamy night that bore fruit. Wanting to have them alone, Kimberly refused to seek the father of her children and raised them on a country side, completely having a peaceful life while running her bakery. She got what she wants; a peaceful life. … If only she didn’t drink that day. “To the guy I met at the bar, I have your sons!” Kimberly boldly showed her children on a video which gathered thousands and thousands of views, passing from one eye to another. The video was only meant for fun. She’s confident that he won’t find them, he doesn’t even know he got her pregnant. So, he wouldn’t, would he? But the very next day, men in suits raided her bakery, an arrogant man leading them forward, demanding to see her. To her shock, Vincent was the son of a multi-millionaire and he’s in the middle of finding an heir to inherit the highest position of the company! Kimberly soon found herself in a tug of war. One wants to make the twin his heirs, while the other wants to raise them in the town and have a peaceful and simple life. So—who will win the custody of the twin? Would the two of them reach an agreement despite their conflicting ideals? Which one of them will run out of patience first and choke the other one to death?

MYOSITISIN · Urban
Not enough ratings
171 Chs

Chapter 70 Seventy

Chapter 39: Operation; Reconciliation of the Twins Before that Fated Day! (03)

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‘I hate you!’

‘I’m sorry Vincent, you’re on your own now.’

‘Don’t leave me behind, don’t leave me with them!’

‘Goodbye.’

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Vincent woke up with a start.

His breathing hitched and his eyes were unfocused. It was unknown what he had seen in his dream, but terror in his eyes can be seen. His breathing is uneven, and sweat trailed down on his body. It took a while before the erratic beating of his heart calmed down, and when it went back to its normal phase, he took a deep breath.

“… What a nasty dream.” He murmured; annoyance can be heard mixing in his weak voice.

He shifted on the bed, slightly uncomfortable for some reason, as if it was not his bed---ah, it isn’t really his. Vincent remembered where he was and groaned. He doesn’t know what triggered that, but why here of all places?

What if somebody caught him wrestling against himself in the middle of his sleep?