His Disposable Wife Left With His Baby

Chapter 4 Felix fxxking Harrington

KIERAN

The Macallan tasted like ash in my mouth.

I set the glass down on the bar with more force than necessary. Declan look up from his phone, one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly amused way he had.

"Careful," he said. "That's an eighteen-year-old you're abusing."

"Shut up."

He grinned. Leaned back against the leather booth. "Kieran's fretting over his fake wife again."

If we didn't have fifteen years of history between us, if our companies weren't so deeply entangled that severing ties would cost us both millions, I would have broken his nose.

"I'm not fretting."

"You've been staring at that glass for ten minutes. "

I wanted to tell him to f**k off. Instead, I signaled the bartender for another pour.

The image of Elara standing by the window last night kept surfacing. Her eyes red. Tracks of tears on her face that she'd tried to hide.

And this morning. She'd walked out of my building with her chin up, quitting.

"Got some gossip you'll definitely find interesting," Declan said.

"I'm not interested in gossip." I took a drink. "I don't wake up next to a different woman every night because I have standards."

He laughed. "God, you're such a prick when you're in a mood."

"If your judgment was better, you wouldn't need me to handle the press every time they catch you with someone's daughter."

"Someone's very willing, very adult daughter," he corrected. Then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "But you're going to want to hear this. Trust me."

"I doubt that."

"Felix Harrington's back in New York."

The name made something cold settle in my chest. I kept my face neutral, took another sip. "And I should care why?"

"Come on, Kieran. Don't play stupid. It's beneath you."

"Felix Harrington runs a museum acquisition company. We've never competed for the same deals. Our industries don't overlap. Why would I care about his travel schedule?"

"Because," Declan said slowly, like he was explaining something to a child, "he's your wife's first love."

I set my glass down carefully. "Elara doesn't have a history. I had her background checked before we signed the contract."

"Did you check who she spent four years of college with? Who she spent every holiday with?" He was enjoying this. The bastard was actually enjoying this. "Felix Harrington. Her best friend's brother. The golden boy who couldn't have her because she was his sister's friend and he had a reputation to maintain. But now?" He spread his hands. "Now he's back. And from what I hear, he's ready to make a move."

My hand tightened around the glass. "You're speculating."

"Am I? Let me ask you something." He tilted his head. "What did Elara study at Hopkins?"

I didn't answer. I knew where this was going.

"Museum Studies, wasn't it? Artifact repatriation, cultural heritage, all that academic bullshit. And what's Felix Harrington's business? Oh right. Museums. Acquisitions. Cultural preservation." He paused. "Funny coincidence, don't you think?"

I'd asked her once. Six months into the marriage. Why did you take a secretarial position when your resume had nothing to do with HR or administrative work?

She said she wanted to try something different.

I knew she was lying. I just hadn't cared enough to dig deeper.

"Felix Harrington stayed single all these years," Declan said. "And now he's back. For your wife."

"She's my wife." The words came out harder than I intended. "Contractual or not, she signed papers. Made commitments."

I didn't like people touching my things. I especially didn't like people discussing them like they had a right to opinions about my choices.

Felix Harrington had so crossed a line.

"I'm leaving." I stood.

"Wait, there's more." Declan's tone stopped me. "Your ex-girlfriend came back yesterday too?"

I turned slowly. "Camilla isn't my ex-girlfriend."

"Fine. Your ex-whatever. First love. Puppy romance. Call it what you want." He shrugged.

I stood and left.

I needed speed. Needed to push until my thoughts stopped racing and my hands stopped shaking with the urge to break something.

By the time I reached the parking garage, I'd regained most of my control. Slid into the driver's seat. Let the engine roar to life. The sound helped. Always did.

My phone buzzed as I pulled onto the street.

Camilla.

I almost didn't open it. Almost threw the phone onto the passenger seat and just drove.

But something made me look.

A document. Medical records with Elara's name at the top.

I pulled over. Read it once. Then again, because it couldn't be right.

**Pregnant. 12 weeks.**

Twelve weeks.

I'd been in London three months ago. Closing the Rothschild deal. Gone for two weeks. When I came back, Elara had seemed distant. Quieter than usual.

My vision went red at the edges.

Felix f*****g Harrington.

I restarted the car. The engine growled, responding to my foot on the accelerator.