Chapter 4

Susan 's Pov: 

I inform Sarah and Ruth about what happened as we relax in their room after school.

"Wow, Susan !" Sarah exclaims in surprise.

"Seriously, how did this happen?!" Ruth asks in shock.

Tears well up in my eyes as I reply, "The guy I told you I went out with at the club... we ended up having sex."

"But you said you were just having a drink with him at the nearby restaurant, and then he dropped you off at home," Ruth points out.

"I know what I said, okay?! I lied. We had sex, and in the morning, he drove me back to my street," I confess.

"You're so lucky your mom didn't call to check on you that night. 

What were you thinking, Susan ? That guy could have been dangerous, maybe even a serial killer!" Ruth scolds.

Feeling ashamed, I sink deeper into the bed.

"Give her a break, Ruth. So... you're not a virgin anymore, huh?" Sarah asks with a smirk.

"This is not a joke, Sarah. 

But I am relieved it wasn't Austin who took that away. 

But I don't even know who this guy is," Ruth asks, concerned.

"I don't know," I sigh, desperately trying to hold back my tears.

Sarah, Ruth, and I head to Club Knight with a mission to uncover the identity of our mystery man.

Sarah and Ruth assure me that the club keeps strict records of their customers. "No one goes unnoticed," they say.

"Excuse me, we have a bit of a situation here," Ruth addresses the bartender on duty amidst the pulsating atmosphere of the club.

"Oh, what kind of situation?" he asks curiously.

"A month ago, my friend met someone here, and she needs to find him as soon as possible," Ruth explains.

The bartender looks at us as if we're crazy.

"A lot of people come to this club, ladies."

"Look, we know you keep records of the visitors. 

We need to search the records for June 2nd, check the CCTV footage, or anything," I plead.

The bartender appears confused, but as he looks at me, his expression softens—I must look like a mess.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" he asks sympathetically.

"She was assaulted, and we found out that the man who assaulted her frequented this club," Sarah blurts out.

The bartender gasps in shock.

That wasn't our original plan, but if it helps us find this man...

"I was the bartender that night. I will check my records. Please, describe the man," he offers.

"He was tall, about 6 foot 4, with black messy hair. He wore a tight black shirt and ripped black jeans. 

He had a sharp Italian accent," I manage to say.

"Mr Jake Rodrick," the bartender quickly responds without even checking his records.

"Are you sure?" I ask hopefully.

"He's a regular here like you said, and he's the only Italian-American visitor that night. You're quite lucky, ladies. 

You've found him... but I don't know him as a rapist. There must be a misunderstanding," he comments.

Sarah scoffs and is about to say something, but I cut her off.

"We just said that to get your attention.

 It was consensual. Thanks for your time, Jared," I say, glancing at his name tag.

The bartender smiles and nods as we leave the club.

Today, I had to skip class to travel to the heart of New York City. 

Standing before me is a tall skyscraper with a large G logo. 

After researching online with my friends, we discovered that Jake Rodrick is the owner of Gio 

Industries. I can't believe I slept with the freaking owner of Gio Industries!

So, as agreed upon, I'm here to see Mr Jake today. 

I enter through the doors of the company and make my way towards the reception desk.

"Hi," I greet the receptionist.

"Hi. Welcome to Gio Industries. How can I assist you?" she responds, but her tone carries a hint of annoyance.

"I'd like to see Mr Jake Rodrick," I state.

The receptionist gives me a "don't waste my time" look, and her face turns red with anger.

"Is there a problem, Raina?" a sultry deep voice interrupts?

That voice resonates within me, and I almost feel a sense of contentment. 

I turn around to face the source, and there he is—Jake himself, in all his glory. 

He's dressed impeccably in a black suit that accentuates his body, making his stormy grey eyes even more captivating. 

His hair is neatly combed a far cry from the dishevelled look he had at the club. 

He effortlessly embodies both professionalism and sex appeal.

"Hello, Jake," I say, trying to maintain my composure.

"So, you're saying you're pregnant?" Jake asks, his expression sceptical.

I nod in confirmation. His office is spacious, painted in a combination of grey and white, with minimal office decor.

"And you're sure it's mine?" he questions, raising an eyebrow.

Once again, I nod.

"You're not suggesting that you spread your legs for one of those college boys after our encounter?" he retorts, his tone laced with arrogance.

Annoyance builds within me. "I don't go around sleeping with random boys," I retort sharply.

He scoffs, "Well, you had no problem sleeping with me."

"You're being rude," I tell him, anger simmering beneath my words.

"Can you blame me when you're accusing me of getting you pregnant? 

You're not the first woman I've had a one-night stand with, so trust me when I say it's a common occurrence," he retorts callously.

What? His words pierce through me, and suddenly, the sexy man I once slept with turns into another Austin—a person who betrays my trust.

"You know what? To hell with you!" I exclaim, unable to contain my anger.

Jake rolls his eyes dismissively. "That child you're carrying is not mine, Susan ."

His abrupt denial threatens to break me. 

But deep down, what did I truly expect? Did I think he would embrace this pregnancy?

 He's a billionaire, for God's sake!

"I hope you rot in hell, Jake!" I yell, my voice filled with pain and frustration. 

I quickly rush out of his office before the tears can no longer be held back.

I hear him call my name twice, and people's gazes follow me as I run past them. 

But their opinions no longer matter.

 Nothing matters anymore.