A glimpse of humanity

Morgan's point of view.

Marrissa, Marrissa, Marrissa, that name keeps ringing in my head.

Her face shows up anytime I close my eyes.

"What? Do you think I'm falling for her?"

"Nah, you are mistaken. I feel nothing but hatred and anger towards her."

Not only has she defiled me on many occasions, she has proven that not all women will fall for me, something I never thought was possible.

Every day, I wake up thinking of ways to break her defense, to bend her and to make her realize that there is only one boss, and it is I, Morgan Thornhill.

"No one crosses me, no one defiles me, no one troubles me…."

"Except Marrissa Cooper," my inner mind ended the sentence for me.

I picked up my phone and dialed a number.

Funny, I didn't need to search for her number, I seemed to have it in my head.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you are thinking, and I swear it can never be. She is the last person I would fall in love with, even if my life depended on it.

My mind was convinced, but my manhood felt different. Thank God it didn't have a mind of its own, or did it?

Marrissa's sleepy voice came through the phone.

"I expect you to be in my office before 7pm. I'll be changing the designs of my office, and you need to supervise things," I said.

"But……"she was about to complain, when I ended the call.

"Today, you will know who the boss is," I said and smirked.

My office buzzed with different activities, designers going in and out, carrying different items out and bringing new ones in.

I had Marrissa standing for six hours straight. I noticed her legs wobbly as if they might give way at any moment. 

After the designers left, I sat behind my desk, masking my face with a frown. 

“Take these down to the first floor,” I said, sliding a heavy stack of reports across the table. 

I didn’t pause or glance at her, just pointed to the papers like they were another item on my to-do list. 

“I need them distributed. We don’t have time to waste.”  

Marrissa nodded, her legs trembling beneath her skirt. 

I heard her stomach churn as she picked up the reports, the weight of them pressing her down.

I looked at her walking slowly, she did look frail today. Maybe I should let her rest for a while, the angel in me thought.

But the demon in me thought otherwise. Don't be weak Morgan, she is just pretending to get you to pity her, show her who the real boss is.

“Done?” I asked, without looking up, when I saw her coming in.

“Yes,” she whispered.  

“Good. Do it again.”  

She froze, her grip tightening on the back of the chair. "Again?" She asked, almost crying .

“Now,” I added, my tone sharper.  

She turned, and I could see she forced her legs to move, but I didn’t care about her limits.  

"Again," I said the third time.

I really was expecting her to complain or simply defy my orders as she did before, but no, she didn't, instead she turned and started walking towards the door.

"Oh! She is starting to learn already," I said, laughing out loud.

But then she stopped walking.

"Get going Marrissa," I said, getting on my feet.

I walked towards her, wanting to push her out my door, but she stumbled back, falling into my hands, the reports scattering on the floor.  

“Marrissa,” I shouted, my tone more annoyed than concerned. “What’s….” I was saying, catching her just before she hit the floor.  

“Jesus—Marrissa!”  

She didn’t respond. Her head lolled against my shoulder, her breathing shallow. 

For a moment, I froze, my mind struggling to process what was happening. Then, a sudden jolt of fear surged through me.  

“Help!” I yelled, my voice breaking through the quietness of the office. “Somebody call an ambulance!”  

The ride to the hospital felt like an eternity. I sat stiffly in the back of the ambulance, my hand gripping Marrissa’s hand far tighter than I realized. 

The paramedics worked quickly, murmuring words I couldn’t focus on. My mind raced with guilt, with questions I didn’t want to answer.    

When they arrived at the hospital, Marrissa was wheeled away, leaving me alone in the waiting room. 

I paced the sterile tiles, my suit jacket abandoned somewhere along the way. Every time a nurse walked by, I jerked my head up, waiting for answers that didn’t come.  

Hours passed before a doctor finally approached me.  

“Morgan?”  

I straightened. “Is she okay? What’s wrong with her?” I asked, frantic.

“She’s stable now,” the doctor said, offering a reassuring smile. “She fainted from exhaustion and dehydration. Nothing life-threatening, but she’ll need plenty of rest.”  

I heaved a sigh of relief. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived as the doctor continued.  

“There’s something else,” the doctor said, his tone gentler now. “We ran a few routine tests. Marrissa is pregnant. About two weeks gone." 

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Pregnant?”  

The doctor nodded. “Yes. She may not even know yet. But the stress she’s been under isn’t good for her condition. She’ll need a lighter workload and proper care moving forward.”  

"Okay doctor, Thank you," I said, shaking hands with him, before walking out.

"Pregnant?" I whispered.

"Well, congratulations to her and her soon-to-be father," I thought.

"That child definitely isn't mine, can't be, and will never be," I said with a straight face.

But something twisted in my chest, something I couldn't explain.

I called my driver and ordered him to drive me to the nearest bar.

"You can go. Give me the keys. I ordered, before entering the bar.

I didn't know why, but I felt more upset with Marrissa now.

I ordered some drinks and my mind wondered about the night I spent with Marrissa.

Exactly two weeks ago, it can't be a coincidence, can it? 

But deep down, I know the child can't be mine, damn, because the bitter truth is, I can't father a child.