CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CAROLINE
So, if you are pregnant, how far gone are you?
I looked up from my phone. His voice was calm, too calm, as if this was just another business discussion. In my head, I rolled my eyes so hard they almost got stuck. I am sure you are not that dumb, I thought, but what I said aloud was, "I'm so sure you can do that math."
He tilted his head, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. "Why so? I could calculate it easily—if I remember the day we did that, you know what I mean." His tone was laced with mischief, as though the whole situation was a joke. "But since I can't…"
That was it. The last straw that broke the camel's back.
My blood boiled. My anger came rushing from somewhere deep, cold and sharp. He didn't get to finish his sentence because I had heard enough of his stupidity. Even if he wanted to be insensitive, must he flaunt it like a medal? Before I knew it, I had flung what was in my hand straight at him.
My phone hit him square in the face, scattering into pieces as it fell to the ground.
He blinked, shocked. "What was that for? Why did you throw your phone at me?"
The question only made it worse. I lunged at him, fists flying, words spilling out faster than I could stop them—sharp, angry words in my native tongue that sounded more like war drums than curses. Each hit was useless, my strength dissolving as his calm swallowed my fury.
He caught my hands midair, his grip firm, unyielding. I struggled, pushing against his chest, but he only pulled me closer, his strength effortlessly overpowering mine. And before I could even process what was happening, his mouth was on mine, silencing my rage.
For a moment, everything stopped. My body betrayed me in the worst possible way—responding when it should have resisted, remembering what it shouldn't. My mind screamed no, but my pulse said otherwise.
His hands were everywhere—too sure, too familiar. My heart pounded against my ribs, confusion and memory blurring into something dangerous. I told myself to stop, to pull away, but the words got lost in the heat of it all. My fingers found his shirt, tracing the fabric as if trying to remember who we once were.
He became impatient as I felt his shaky hands raise my flay skirt, pulling at my pants.
My mind stopped working. My brain was too cloudly, blocking off all my thoughts, feeling too drunk and high off the pure desire and desperation I was feeling.
My body wants only one thing, and that is his dick into me.
He dragged down my tight, leaving my pants in place.
He raised me and settled me gently on his desk.
One of his hands took up the job of caressing my breast, while the other hand found its way to my thighs, creeping into my pants at the same time.
With one hand, he removed my pants while I lifted my body a little to make the remover of my pants easier.
My mind kept screaming no,
You hate this guy. He dumped you, you hate his ass. His hand and mouth play with me.
Then I remembered the doctor would be back anytime soon, which gave me the courage to stop him.
"The doctor can come in, please stop.
He stood up, and I was glad. I tried to stand, but he gently pushed me back.
I tried once again to stand, but he slipped his two fingers into my vcard and worked my clitoris.
Once again, my body took over, and I mourned out shaming myself. Nat's other hand-picked his intercom and dialled, lifting the receiver.
"Can you please come to the pent office reception area? When the doctor arrives, please tell him to wait for me. OK, me and Miss Caro are having a private chat.
I heard him say as he continued to work my clitoris. Before too long, his mouth and tongue replaced his fingers. I couldn't help the mourning any more, so I let it all out.
He stood up, leaving me high and dry. Every nerve screamed out in frustration, and I had to hold him back.
"Please don't stop." looking straight into my eyes, he smiled victoriously. I did not have enough time to process what that look meant. Before he said
"No darling, I am not stopping."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
I watched him tear at his belt, releasing his junior, and then he slammed into me in a powerful thrust.
I screamed out and continued till I heard, "Come for me, baby."
I let it all go, and a few seconds later, I felt him cream me up.
Once again, it is clear that Nat can't withdraw before releasing his semen into me.
And then it was over.
Silence.
I dropped to the floor as reality came crashing in. Shame hit me like a wave. What had I done? What kind of foolish weakness was this? I had come here for closure, for answers, not to lose myself all over again.
He could have just impregnated me again—what irony. The thought alone made me sick.
It took me a long moment to move. My body felt foreign, heavy, uncooperative. I found my underpants lying near the corner of the rug, picked them up, dressed quietly, avoiding his eyes. I caught sight of myself in the glass—my hair disheveled, my face flushed, my spirit bruised.
I picked up my scattered phone, gathered the pieces, and sat back in the chair I had vacated, pretending to fix it while my mind called me every name in the book.
"Caro, can we talk?" His voice was gentle now, but I ignored him. What was there to talk about? The fact that I had just lost my dignity again? The fact that I had come here to confront him and ended up giving him another part of me?
I couldn't even look at him. My hormones were mocking me, pulling me toward the same man who had once shattered me.
Then his voice broke through again, calm and deliberate. "Is the doctor there? Send him in, dear."
Dear? My heart sank. Dear?
He was calling someone else dear—right in my presence. Maybe his secretary. Maybe his lover. Whoever she was, it stung. I clenched my fists, glaring at him, but he only looked amused.
The door opened and closed. I didn't care who walked in until a familiar voice said, "The test is positive. According to the HCG level in your blood, you are nine weeks pregnant. Congratulations."
Everything froze.
I lifted my eyes slowly, first at the doctor, then at Nat. He looked pale, almost lost, like a man who had just heard his own sentence. For a fleeting moment, I saw fear—real, raw fear—in his eyes.
That was when I knew. He wasn't ready. He was never ready.
In my mind, I whispered, I knew you'd never be man enough to father this child. Fine. I didn't need him. I didn't want him. All I needed was to protect what was mine.
He stood, grabbed his phone, and walked toward the door. I expected him to walk out quietly, but instead, he stopped and turned. His eyes met mine, and what I saw there unsettled me—determination. A dangerous kind.
"Dear," he said slowly, "you'll hear from me very soon. Please feel free to show yourself out. If you want anything—anything at all—ask my PA. She'll help you. You may want food, a drink, or even…" He paused, his lips curving into something between mockery and madness. "You may want me to sign over my conglomerate. One word, and it's yours."
The nerve of this man.
I glared at him, my blood boiling all over again. Every part of me wanted to scream, to hit him, to make him feel the weight of what he'd done—but I knew better. The last time I tried, I ended up under him.
So I said nothing. I just sat there, watching him laugh as he walked out. The sound of that laugh filled the office, cold and triumphant.
When the door finally clicked shut, the silence was deafening.
"Do you need anything, ma'am?" The doctor's voice startled me.
I looked up, blinking rapidly to push back tears. "No, sir. I'll just be on my way."
He hesitated. "Please don't rush. Not after all that shouting and stress."
His tone was kind, but embarrassment burned through me. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
He dropped a folded paper on Nat's desk and left quietly, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
It took me a long while to gather myself, to breathe again. I adjusted my dress, picked up my things, and walked out of that office with what little dignity I had left.
Outside, the world looked painfully normal. People walked, phones rang, cars honked—life moved on, indifferent to my chaos.
---
Lovett's office was a safe space, or at least it used to be. I sank into her chair, the weight of the day pressing into my bones.
"So, you got no concrete answers from him?" she asked, leaning forward.
"None," I said flatly.
Earlier, when I arrived, I had told her everything—well, almost everything. I skipped the part about sleeping with Nat. How could I even say it? How could I admit that I was so weak I let him have me again, in his office of all places?
At the thought, my body betrayed me once more, a familiar warmth tightening low in my belly. I pressed my thighs together, willing the feeling to die. Lovett noticed.
Her eyes narrowed. "You're glowing, Caro. What else happened in that office?"
"Nothing," I answered too quickly, looking away. "Must be the pregnancy glow."
"Pregnancy glow? One that wasn't there this morning?"
I shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "I don't know."
She studied me for another moment, then smiled knowingly. "If you say so."
The silence between us stretched before she changed the subject. "I'm just glad you finally tracked him down. I have this gut feeling that Nat will marry you, and I'll be left all alone again."
I blinked. "What are you talking about?"
She looked down at her feet. "Nothing. Just saying."
"Lovett," I said gently, "even if I ever get back with Nat—which I don't see happening anytime soon—you're too beautiful and too good a woman to stay single forever. Someone will come. And when he does, you'll have your own kids."
She smiled weakly, her eyes misting as I placed a hand over my stomach. "This child will be your first godchild," I teased softly.
She laughed and reached out, resting her palm on my tummy. "We need to get home. You look exhausted, and this baby needs food."
I nodded, grateful for the change in tone. She clapped her hands, grabbed her bag, and we left her office together.
Outside, the evening breeze brushed against my face. I inhaled deeply, tasting the faint metallic scent of rain in the air. It felt cleansing, even if it couldn't wash away the mess inside me.
As we walked to her car, Lovett kept talking about dinner plans, but I barely heard her. My thoughts were tangled, my heart restless.
Nat's words replayed in my head.
His tone. His eyes. The way he said you'll hear from me soon.
Something told me this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
Because if there was one thing I knew about Nathaniel Phillips—it was that he never let go.
And now, a baby—our baby—had tied us together in a way neither of us could understand