But everything aches. My back. My head. My heart.
Even with Alessio gone. Even after being pushed into early leave. Even after the boardroom doors slammed shut behindme…I still can’t outrun the noise. The pressure. The eyes watching.
I grab my phone and text Denver, needing some kind of lifeline, something to tether me back to control, even if it's just a status update I already know won't bring relief.
Any updates?
His reply is almost immediate.
Denver:
Not good. Confidence is shaky. Investors are nervous. I’m doing what I can.
Another message a second later.
Denver:
I need to focus. We’ll talk later.
I stare at the screen like it’s a countdown clock.
All the things I worked so hard for, weeks, months, years, are unraveling right in front of me. Like I’m watching my life crumble in slow motion, and I can’t do a damn thing to stop it.
The work I put into the merger is circling the drain. My reputation’s hanging by a thread. And my relationship? It feels like it died the second he walked away.
I sink into the couch and press my palm to my belly.
“I’m trying, baby. I swear I’m trying.”
A knock at the door startles me.
For a second, my heart leaps. Then sinks just as fast.
It’s not Alessio. I know that instinctively. His knock would be softer. Hesitant. This one is firm. Measured.
When I open the door, my father stands there, a brown paper bag in his arms and a look on his face I don’t recognize. Not exactly pity. Not pride either. Something gentler. Hesitant.
“I figured you wouldn’t be eating.”
I want to slam the door. I really, really do. But I don’t.
Instead, I step aside, and he walks in like he’s not sure if he’s allowed.
I sit on the couch, my father joining me after placing the bag of groceries in the kitchen. He hands me a cup of coffee like a peace offering.
I pat my belly. "I've had my limit of coffee for today."
It’s awkward. Stiff. The silence stretches long enough to make me uncomfortable.
He clears his throat, then looks at me with an awkward sort of caution. “So… you’re pregnant?”
I nod slowly, not quite meeting his eyes.
He shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “Is it his? Alessio’s?”
I blink at him.
“No, Dad. It’s the other billionaire I’ve been secretly shacking up with.” I sigh and wave a hand.
