Suspicions
768 Words
The fridge mocked me with half a bottle of soy sauce and one lonely egg.
My stomach churned—not hunger, but nausea. Morning sickness, they called it. Cruel name for something that felt like a punishment.
I pressed a hand to my belly. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll figure this out.”
The credit card bill on the counter was another slap in the face—restaurants I’d never eaten at, clothes I’d never worn. Nathan had maxed me out before tossing me aside like trash.
I checked my bank app. A few hundred left. Rent would eat most of it. Groceries? Forget it.
I opened the drawer and pulled out the ultrasound photo. Blurry, but real. Mine.
“Even if I go hungry, you won’t,” I whispered.
Then, like a cruel craving, I suddenly wanted garlic fried rice. I slammed the fridge shut. “Out of luck, kiddo.”
Hudson Tech’s glass doors reflected back a woman in sunglasses and armor made of fake composure.
Inside, whispers slithered like smoke.
“…Reynolds’s pitch was too clean. No edits, no mess…”
“…Nobody writes perfect on the first try…”
“…Torres had similar drafts last quarter. Whole sections…”
I slowed. Not pity this time. Suspicion.
Victor Tan intercepted me, Marissa from Finance and Delgado trailing like backup. Not friends. Not enemies. Just sharks who smelled blood.
Victor shut the door behind us. “Let’s be blunt. Half of Reynolds’s pitch was yours, wasn’t it?”
I raised a brow. “Why ask if you already know?”
Marissa’s lips tightened. “Because we don’t like thieves. Vivian’s polished, but too polished. She doesn’t have the depth for those numbers.”
Delgado chuckled. “Girl’s a vulture. Picks what’s already dead.”
I crossed my arms. “So what do you want? Sympathy? Partnership?”
Victor’s jaw worked. “We’re not on your side, Torres. Don’t mistake this. But if Reynolds trips, we won’t catch her.”
Marissa leaned forward. “Keep receipts. You’ll need them when the board comes asking.”
A slow smile spread across my lips. “Already have.”
The door swung open.
Vivian swept in like blood in silk. Scarlet suit. Flawless mask. “Well, well. Plotting the next big win without me?”
Victor straightened. “Just aligning figures.”
Her gaze slid across the room, landing on me. “Figures. Cute. You always did confuse drafts with finished work, Aia.”
A few chuckles. Enough to sting.
I smiled back, razor-sharp. “And you always did confuse theft with talent.”
The silence was brutal.
Vivian tilted her head, lashes low. “Funny thing about talent—it only matters when someone notices. And nobody noticed you. They noticed me.”
Marissa’s eyes flickered. Uneasy.
I leaned in. “Or maybe they noticed too much. Too many fingerprints in too many places.”
For the first time, Vivian’s throat bobbed. Her smile didn’t falter, but her laugh was hollow as she turned on her heel and walked out.
This time, no one laughed with her.
Hours later…
The orphanage gates creaked as Vivian stepped inside, her heels clicking against cracked concrete. The air smelled of chalk and bread.
A nun met her at the steps, weary but kind. “Ms. Reynolds.”
Vivian’s smile softened—real, stripped of venom. “Sister.”
The nun lowered her voice. “It’s Angelo. He’s been withdrawn. Quiet. I thought you should know.”
Vivian’s eyes darted to the playground. A small boy, four at most, sat alone on a swing, dark hair hiding his face as he pushed a worn toy car back and forth.
Vivian crossed the yard, her red suit a streak of fire against the gray. She crouched in the dust, heels sinking, voice gentle.
“Angelo.”
He didn’t look up. Just kept rolling the car.
Her hand trembled as she smoothed his hair. “Why so quiet today, sweetheart?”
A pause. Then, softly: “Other kids… they have daddies.”
Vivian’s throat closed. “And you have me.”
This time he looked up. Wide brown eyes. Sad. Unsure.
“Will you come back tomorrow?” he whispered.
Her lips trembled. But she smiled anyway. “Yes. Always.”
His small hand slipped into hers. Fragile. Trusting.
“Promise?”
Vivian blinked hard, fighting tears. “Promise.”
Behind them, the nun turned away to give them space.
And in that moment, there was no boardroom. No enemies. No mask.
Just a woman, a little boy, and a secret that could shatter everything.
- Writer
