Page 32 of CEO's Baby Scandal

“Okay, Mom. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I hope you’re feeling okay.” Mom was prying, like always, but I wouldn’t get into it over the phone. This would be my weekend of reckoning. I could already tell. But a lecture from my parents was better than finding out I had been played by the only man who ever wanted me.

“I’m okay now. I just need to come home and rest for a few days.”

We said our goodbyes, and I hung up, but the feeling of torment in my chest didn’t go away. And when the rain started back up, I didn’t use my umbrella. I wanted to feel something—anything, other than sadness or fear. The cold droplets on myskin made me feel alive for a moment, connected to the rest of the world instead of on my own island of pain.

I trudged forward as the heavens poured down, drenching me, and I thought of Daniel. Charming, charismatic, handsome, powerful, everything that drew me in. Now they were things I was skeptical about, even suspicious. I didn’t know what to believe except that I loved him more than life itself, and I wanted a life with him—a family. My deepest fears preyed on me, spurred on by Evelyn’s concerned talk. How would I raise this baby by myself? Because there was no way I was getting rid of it. Abortion or adoption—neither one was an option for me.

If Evelyn was right and Daniel was playing me, this baby was the only thing I had left of him. There was no way I was giving that up.

22

DANIEL

The entire day had dragged on—a few days, actually. When Emily left a voicemail on my work phone that she was going to her parents’ house for the weekend, after days of almost zero interaction here at work and no time with her outside of work, I felt discouraged. I had hoped we would have time this weekend to sit and talk. After talking with Ginny about her, I felt more strongly that not only should a conversation be had, but soon. Now it would have to wait.

“And you think diversifying is the best way?” Chuck Hamlin sat across from me with his folder open in front of him. My last meeting of the day, and I wished it were over already.

“I’m not an investor. I’m a lawyer. But I do think having all your eggs in one basket isn’t a good idea. I think you should definitely diversify. I also strongly advise you to consider filing your S-Corp because sole proprietorship LLCs are risky. You are liable for every single cent of taxes you owe. If you get a S-Corp and your business goes under, you can dissolve the company and that’s that.” I’d told him this many times, but the man refused to open his small company up to what he called “micromanaging board members”.

“Yes, yes. Well, I’ll consider your advice there.” He slapped the folder shut and stood up, thrusting his hand out. “Thanks again for your advice, Dan. I’ll be in touch.” I shook his hand, and he turned and strutted toward the door.

I would never understand why people put me on retainer at three hundred dollars an hour if they were going to refuse my advice, but I’d take their money anyway. They paid me for my professional opinion and the ability to file their legal documents on their behalf. It did not reflect on my reputation if they ignored me.

I sat back down and rubbed my forehead. I had a headache and needed an aspirin. With only a half hour left in the day, I would stick it out and grab a cat nap when I got home, but I had a client dinner this evening too. I wanted a break. I wanted to see Emily. I was sick of running myself ragged on this exercise wheel I called a job. I toyed with the idea of planning a weekend away, just me and Emily, but with her taking a long weekend this weekend, I knew she wouldn’t be able to afford it, and there would be no pulling strings to get her extra vacation time. Michael wouldn’t allow that.

I sighed and tried to push Emily out of my mind. I couldn't afford distractions right now. I had a deadline to meet and the client dinner to attend. As I stared blankly at the computer screen, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out hoping it was from Emily, but it was only a reminder of my dental cleaning appointment on Monday morning.

I laid my head back and closed my eyes, the coolness of the vinyl chair on my back, the warmth of the sun on my face. For a moment, the pain throbbing at my temples subsided and I let the tension out of my shoulders. When the weekend was over, I would invite Emily to dinner. We would chat about all of my concerns, and I’d have a chance to tell her what I really wanted. If we couldn’t get away for the weekend, I’d ask her to come stayat my place for a few days or the week. At least we’d be together every night.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Olivia’s voice over my intercom startled me. I was expecting Jill, since she was filling in for Emily while she was gone. Then I remembered today was the day Jill had to leave early to get her kids from school for swimming lessons.

I pressed the button and said, “Yeah, Olivia…”

“Sir, you have a visitor.”

Normally, my ”visitors” were announced by name. I wasn’t aware of any meetings or commitments. Jill would have advised me of that earlier, so it must have been a social call. “Who is it?”

“Sir, I think you should see her.” Olivia’s tone was firm, and I got the hint that it was more than a social call.

“Send her in.” I stood and waited, tie tucked in my jacket properly. The door opened, and Olivia peeked in briefly before a woman I didn’t recognize entered.

“Thank you,” she said quietly to Olivia. Then she turned to me. “Mr. Daniel Jacobs?” she asked in a clipped tone.

“Yes, I am.” I remained behind my desk, my place of power. I learned a long time ago that the place of authority is relinquished when I move from behind my desk. As if I stepped down from my seat of power to deign myself in humility.

The woman looked familiar. Her cheekbones, her eyes, the way she pursed her lips. I couldn’t place where I’d seen her before, but she reminded me of someone. I had a feeling I was about to find out who. Perhaps some unhappy client.

“Mr. Jacobs, my name is Evelyn Harper.” She moved toward my desk, remaining standing as I was. She wore tight-fitting jeans, a red ruffled top, and red heels, and she carried a clutch-type purse.

“Ms. Harper, what can I do for you?” I gestured at the chair beside her, but she scowled at me.

“I’d rather stand, thank you.”

“Alright… How can I help?” Her demeanor was cold and closed. Most clients were open, vulnerable, wanting me to help them. But Evelyn was fierce, almost angry.

“Mr. Jacobs, I’m here to speak to you about my sister, Emily Kline.” Evelyn tucked her clutch under her arm and looked down her nose at me as shock smacked me across the face.