Chapter 3: One Stupid Mistake

Cecilia

His whore.

That’s what I am to Emeric, my mate and the father of my child.

A sharp pain stabs in the center of my chest, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. It feels, quite literally, like a knife’s been plunged into my heart. 

There’s nothing more to say. I run past Emeric and fly out the door. 

I’ve got no plan right now. No clear thoughts in my head. Only shock and pain and a desperation to get as far away from that man as possible. 

But I freeze when I get close to the lobby and hear a familiar voice. 

Serena’s still here. And I definitely just heard her say my name.

I linger in the hallway, wondering if she’s already heard my footsteps. Either way, she goes on talking. Loudly—as usual. She’s gossiping about me in my own workplace and not even trying to be discreet. 

I tiptoe back a few paces so I can hide around the corner.

“She’s a manipulative gold digger,” Serena says next. “She’s been obsessed with Emeric ever since the two of them met in college. They slept together once back then, you know. She never got over it, and I’m sure she uses that one stupid mistake of his as leverage.” 

“Doesn’t surprise me,” comes a second voice. “The way she trails after him like a puppy dog… I knew she was spineless, and obsessed with him. I bet he regrets ever giving her an inch.”

This voice belongs to Anna, Emeric’s second assistant, who I’ve mentored since she was an intern. She and I have never exactly been friends, but I’m surprised to hear her badmouthing me with Serena.

“Oh, for sure. She used her body to get where she is now—with her hooks in Emeric’s life and his signature on her paycheck.”

“Disgusting,” Anna hisses. “I’m so glad you convinced your father to block her transfer.” 

It takes a few seconds to make sense of what Anna’s just said. But as realization dawns, my adrenaline spikes, sending my heart and my mind racing.

“Right?” quips Serena. “Can you imagine—you apply to work on the legal team, and your best qualification is having seduced your boss?! Talk about a PR nightmare waiting to happen.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

Earlier this year, I applied for my dream job on the legal team. Emeric wasn’t happy when I asked for his approval to transfer to a new position. Grimacing, he swore he’d give me a good recommendation—“as long as you can actually pass the entrance exam.”

I busted my ass studying for that exam. But Emeric broke the news to me that the job went to another applicant. 

He had to know about Serena, about the real reason I was being rejected. But he let me think I failed—just like he’d predicted I would. And I just believed him.

“Anna, I’m glad you let me know in time to stop her application. You did the right thing. Can you believe they almost gave her the job?” 

My jaw drops to the floor.

It wasn’t just Serena conspiring against me. Anna initiated the whole thing. And Emeric helped them cover it up.

And I passed the test. I almost got the job.

I can’t hold back the tears any longer. 

Emeric calling me a whore was bad enough. But hearing his sister echo that same hateful judgment of me, and learning about Anna’s betrayal – it’s all too much. I’m sad, indignant and ashamed all at once. And shaking with anger. 

And then my stomach starts to ache, startling me with sudden, stabbing pains.

I slip out of the office’s back exit and stagger to my car.

The pain is getting worse.

I slump down into the driver’s seat and pause, clutching my stomach. 

I laugh aloud—a bitter, cheerless laugh—when I realize that I absolutely need to go to the hospital to check on the baby, and that I might just run into Victoria there.

The doctor doesn’t believe me when I tell her that I was working at my desk when this horrible cramping started.

I don’t blame her. I’m a bad liar.

She pushes her red-framed glasses up her nose. “You didn’t suddenly exert yourself? Or perhaps something happened that… upset you?”

I swallow heavily and turn my eyes down to the shiny laminate floor. “Something did upset me, yes.”

“For the health of both you and your child, it’s important you avoid stressful situations while you are pregnant. Any emotional distress is hard on the baby. You need to maintain a stable mood. Otherwise, you risk miscarriage.”

I’m on my way out of the hospital when I see her.

Victoria. With a white bandage wrapped around her hand, and a matching one on her wrist.

A quiet, involuntary scoff escapes my lips. I can’t believe she actually went to the Emergency Room for a little splash of coffee. It was hardly a burn at all.

But the mildly amused smile on my mouth vanishes when I see a man approaching Victoria. It takes me a second too long to register that it’s Emeric.

I slip behind a potted fig tree near the entrance, hiding myself poorly but unable to tear my eyes away from the sight before me. I watch in awe as Victoria moves in close to Emeric’s body, pressing the palm of her unbandaged hand to the center of his chest. He doesn’t pull away from her. He lets her slip her fingers around his charcoal and silver pinstripe tie and toy with it gently.

I don’t know if it’s heartbreaking jealousy, crippling sadness, or pure rage; something horrible grips my throat and threatens to take me over. Hot, silent tears start streaming down my face again. My chest heaves, my breath turns shallow and my abdomen starts cramping, making me double over and clutch the plant I’m hiding behind for balance.

A voice in my mind reminds me how bad this is for the child I’ve just started growing inside me. 

It’s the doctor’s voice, telling me to get a handle on my emotions.

I need to pull myself together. If not for myself, then for the baby.

I need to take control of this situation, somehow.

I reread the words on the screen at least a dozen times before I finally just force myself to hit send.

Emeric, I’m pregnant. We need to talk.

He doesn’t reply right away, which is unlike him.

And he keeps me waiting.

I sent him the number of an empty room I found near the ER lobby, where I’m waiting for him seated on a hard, uncomfortable sofa. A big clock on the wall ticks the seconds away. I check our text thread several times as the minutes stretch on, wondering if he even got the messages, even though my iPhone says they were delivered.

I try to focus on my breath, on keeping myself as calm as possible. But I can’t help imagining what Emeric must be thinking right now. What his face is going to look like when he walks through that door. What he’s going to say.

I’m shaking with anticipation when the doorknob finally turns. I watch, feeling like the ticking clock and time itself have slowed, as the door swings open. 

But it’s not Emeric who’s standing there with one hand on the doorknob.

It’s Victoria.