Things just got more complicated

Marrissa's point of view 

I saw Morgan standing frozen at the door, his fingers gripping the handle so tightly it was a wonder he didn’t break it off. 

I frowned, my mind racing to figure out what had him so stiff. But then, he slowly took a step back, and my heart sank.

“Oh, great. I guess he’s not done with his hurtful words,” I thought bitterly, bracing myself for whatever verbal attack he would launch this time.

But before I could get a word in or prepare my defenses, the door opened wider, and someone stepped in behind him.

I froze.

It was Mr. Thornhill.

He didn’t need an introduction. His presence spoke louder than any title or name. The sharp angles of his face, the calculating gaze, the way he moved as if he owned not just the room but the entire world—he commanded attention.

My stomach twisted.

“Did he hear everything?” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible. My palms started to sweat, and I quickly looked down, avoiding his piercing eyes.

“Oh no, Marrissa, things just got a hundred times more complicated,” my inner voice muttered.

“Good morning, sir,” I managed to say, my voice trembling as I bowed my head, unable to meet his gaze.

Mr. Thornhill didn’t reply right away. He closed the door with a soft click, the sound echoing in the tense silence. Then, without a word, he strode past Morgan, walked around my desk, and settled into the chair across from me. He looked at Morgan, then turned his eyes to me, his expression unreadable.

“Marrissa, how are you?” he asked finally.

“I… I’m fine, thank you, sir,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a small nod, then leaned back slightly, folding his hands in his lap. 

“Saying I’m disappointed in you both is an understatement,” he began, his voice calm but sharp enough to make me flinch. “But I will get straight to the point.”

My chest tightened as his gaze shifted to Morgan, who stood stiff and silent by the door.

“First, forgive the stupidity of my son. I really thought I raised him better.”

Morgan’s jaw clenched, and I couldn’t help the faint, bitter smile that tugged at my lips.

“At least someone else agrees with me,” I thought, “Morgan is absolutely sick in the head.”

Mr. Thornhill’s eyes turned to me, and I quickly wiped the smile off my face, standing straighter.

“I’m also sorry he couldn’t control himself, and now his actions have put you in a life-changing situation,” Mr. Thornhill continued, his words hitting with a weight that made my cheeks burn.

“Dad,” Morgan snapped, but Mr. Thornhill silenced him with a sharp wave of his hand.

He turned back to me. “I understand you must have been scared when you found out you were pregnant. It’s not an easy thing to process, and the decisions ahead of you are not easy either. But I want you to know this: starting today, you are not alone. You are part of the Thornhill family.”

I blinked, stunned. His words felt so heavy, so definitive, that I didn’t even know how to respond.

“Dad, this is a little hasty, don’t you think?” Morgan interjected, stepping forward. “Marrissa and I have this under control.”

I shot him a sharp look. “Really, Morgan? What control are you talking about?” I wanted to yell, but I bit my tongue, not daring to explode in front of Mr. Thornhill.

Mr. Thornhill wasn’t interested in Morgan’s protests. He turned to him with a look that could freeze water. “Morgan, you will wed Marrissa and take care of her and the baby.”

“What?” I blurted, the word bursting out before I could stop it. My pulse was racing now. “With all due respect, sir, Morgan and I aren’t compatible. Marriage would be a terrible idea.”

“Exactly,” Morgan said quickly, nodding in agreement.

I took a breath to steady myself. “If my child is a Thornhill, I’m more than capable of raising them on my own. Morgan and I can arrange equal custody—that’s fair, isn’t it?”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Thornhill said, his voice like a whip. “I will not have my grandchild born out of wedlock. Do you have any idea what this would do to our reputation? The CEO of Thornhill Enterprises impregnates his secretary? How does that sound to you?”

“Dad, we don’t even know if the child is mine,” Morgan argued, his voice rising.

“Oh, please, Morgan,” Mr. Thornhill retorted, his patience clearly thinning. “You and I both know this child is yours. The dates match perfectly.”

“You don’t know that,” Morgan said, his voice wavering slightly.

“Yes, I do,” his father snapped. “Do you think I didn’t know what you were doing the day you fired Marrissa? Do you think I didn’t clean up your mess?”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Oh,” I whispered, realization dawning on me. It suddenly made sense—the missing CCTV footage, the lack of gossip, the eerie silence that followed that disastrous day. Mr. Thornhill had erased it all.

My face burned with shame, and I lowered my head, my hands twisting nervously in my lap. Morgan, for once, was silent, his face pale as the truth sank in.

“My word is final,” Mr. Thornhill said firmly. “Get married and raise the child together, or risk losing everything.”

He stood then, the chair creaking as he rose. He walked around the desk and stopped directly in front of me.

“Marrissa,” he said, his voice softening just slightly, “I’ve always known you to be a smart woman. Think about your child, about the kind of life you want for them. Make the right decision. I’m not forcing you, but this child shouldn’t suffer because of your mistakes. That would be too cruel.”

His words pierced through me, and I felt tears sting my eyes. Before I could speak, he reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder.

Then, to my surprise, he pulled me into a brief hug.

It was strange, almost fatherly, and it left me feeling more conflicted than ever.

When he stepped back, he gave me a small nod before turning and leaving the room.

Morgan followed, but not before casting me one last look. It was a mixture of anger, defeat, and something else I couldn’t place.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The silence was deafening.

“He’s right,” I thought, tears slipping down my cheeks.” Killing my innocent child would be the greatest sin.” I said, rubbing my hand on my stomach absentmindedly.

But could I really marry Morgan? Could I tie myself to a man who had caused me so much pain, just for the sake of our child?

I buried my face in my hands, sobbing quietly. I didn’t know how I was going to get through this.