Chapter 2
1564 Words
Tricia’s POV
The air in the office felt like it had turned to ice. My lungs burned as I forced myself to breathe normally, even though I felt like screaming.
Tyrone Black was still leaning forward, his dark eyes looking into mine. Maybe, searching for a girl with long curls and hazel eyes that I had buried five years ago.
"I don't believe so, Mr. Black," I said. My voice was a miracle… steady, professional, and cold.
I gripped the handle of my briefcase so hard my knuckles turned white. "I’ve worked in the outskirts of New Yard for the last few years. This is my first time in the Black Group headquarters."
Tyrone didn’t look convinced. He tapped his silver pen on the mahogany desk. Tap. Tap. Tap. It sounded like a ticking time bomb.
"Is that so?" he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips for a second before snapping back to my eyes.
"Strange. I have a very good memory for faces, Ms. Green. And yours... yours feels like a shadow I can’t quite catch."
"Perhaps I just have one of those faces," I replied, giving him a tight, fake smile. "Common."
He let out a short, dry laugh that didn't reach his eyes.
"There is nothing 'common' about your resume, or your presence. Let’s get to the interview, shall we?"
For the next forty-five minutes, it was like a battle. He didn’t ask simple questions. He pressed me hard on takeovers, selling company assets, and international market trends. He was testing me, trying to see if I would crack under pressure. Every time I answered, his eyes got sharper, like my voice was waking up a memory he couldn’t place.
"Last question," he said, leaning back. The power radiating off him was suffocating. "Why did you leave your last firm? You were their top performer."
"I needed a challenge that matched my ambition," I lied. The truth was, I had left because my belly was starting to swell with his child, and I couldn't risk anyone finding out.
"And the Black Group is the only place that offers that." I added.
He stared at me for a long silence. The clock on the wall ticked. Finally, he stood up. He was tall, much taller than I remembered, his presence filling the entire room.
"I’ll let my secretary know my decision," he said curtly. "You may go."
I stood up, my legs feeling weak. I didn't look back, I walked out of the door, through the luxury lobby, and didn't stop moving until I was back in a taxi. Only then did I let out the breath I had been holding, my hands shaking uncontrollably.
"It's him," I whispered, leaning my head against the cool glass of the car window. "God, of all the people in this city... it's him."
By the time I got home, the nervous energy had faded, leaving me exhausted. Tima was in the kitchen, helping Mom with dinner. Maxwell wasn't home yet, he was at his after-school program.
"Well?" Tima asked, jumping up the moment I walked in. "How did it go? Did you charm the billionaire? Is the job ours?"
"I... I think it went okay," I said, walking straight to my room. "I'm just tired, Tima. I need to rest."
I closed my door, threw my briefcase on the bed, and sat at my small desk. I flipped open my laptop immediately, my heart still hammering. I opened a search engine and typed in ‘Tyrone Black CEO.’
Thousands of results flooded the screen. I clicked on the images.
There he was. Tyrone at gala events, Tyrone on the cover of top business magazines, Tyrone shaking hands with politicians. I scrolled down, my eyes burning. Then, I found an article from five years ago.
‘Black Heir Spotted at Elite Nightclub After Corporate Victory.’
There was a blurry paparazzi photo. He was wearing a dark shirt, his hair a bit messy, a drink in his hand. My breath stopped for a second. That was the night. The night I had gone out with Pat to celebrate my graduation. The night I had been reckless for the first and last time in my life.
I zoomed in on his face. The jawline was unmistakable. The way he held himself, even in a blurry photo… was exactly the same.
"It really is him," I choked out.
I reached into my drawer and pulled out a small, wooden box. Inside was a single photo of Maxwell from last month. I held the laptop screen next to the photo of my son. Maxwell had the same sharp eyes. He had the same way of tilting his head when he was thinking.
I slammed the laptop shut. I couldn't do this alone. I grabbed my phone and dialed the only person who knew the whole truth.
"Pat? Are you busy? I need you to come over. Now. It’s an emergency please..."
Thirty minutes later, Pat Ruger burst into my room. She was wearing a bright pink fur coat and high-top sneakers.
"Okay, who died? Or did you finally get a date?" Pat asked, dropping her bag on my bed. She saw my face and her smile vanished. "Tricia? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I have," I said, my voice trembling. I pointed at the laptop. "The interview today. The CEO of Black Group."
Pat leaned over and looked at the screen. Her eyes went wide. "Wait. Is that...?"
"It's the father, Pat. Tyrone Black is Maxwell’s father."
Pat let out a long, low whistle. She sat down hard on the bed. "Holy... Tricia. You’re kidding. The richest man in New Yard? The guy on the news every night?"
"I sat across from him for an hour," I said, pacing the small room. "He asked if we had met. He felt something, Pat. He’s suspicious. I was wearing the lenses and the wig-style bob, but he was looking at me like he wanted to peel my skin off to see what was underneath."
"What are you going to do?" Pat asked, her voice serious.
"If you take that job, you’ll see him every day. It’s only a matter of time before he puts the pieces together. Billionaires aren't stupid, Trish."
"I need the money, Pat!" I cried, turning to her. "Mom needs her treatment. Tima’s tuition is due. And Maxwell... he deserves a future. If I turn down this job, we’ll remain at square one. Skipping meals."
Pat stood up and grabbed my shoulders, shaking me slightly. "Then you play the part. You stay 'Ms. Green.' You keep those lenses in. You never, ever bring Maxwell near that building. You treat him like a boss and nothing else."
"He's engaged," I said, my voice dropping. "I saw it on the news. He’s marrying Julia Grey. A business alliance."
Pat rolled her eyes. "Even better. He has a life. He has a fiancée. He wouldn't want a scandal with a secret baby any more than you want to be a 'mafia' target for his family. Keep your head down, do the work, and get the paycheck."
I looked at the photo of Maxwell on my desk. "What if he finds out? What if he tries to take him from me? The Blacks are powerful, Pat. They could crush me like a bug."
"He won't find out," Pat promised, hugging me tight. "Because I'm going to help you. And because you’re Tricia Green. You’re the smartest girl I know. You've kept this secret for five years. You can keep it for fifty more."
Just then, the front door opened.
"Mommy! I'm home!" Maxwell’s voice rang through the apartment.
I stiffened. I quickly closed the laptop and hid Maxwell’s photo in the drawer.
"Go," Pat whispered. "Be a mom. I'll stay for dinner."
I walked out into the living room. Maxwell was dropping his backpack by the door, his face lighting up when he saw me. He ran over and hugged my knees.
"Did you get the job, Mommy?" he asked, looking up at me with those dark, familiar eyes.
I knelt down and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. My heart ached so much I thought it would break. Looking at him was like looking at a mini version of the man who had just interviewed me in a 52nd-floor penthouse.
"I don't know yet, Max," I whispered, kissing his nose. "But whatever happens, I promise I’ll take care of you."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was an email from the Black Group HR department. My breath caught in my throat as I read the first line:
{Dear Ms. Green, we are pleased to inform you that Mr. Black has personally requested your immediate appointment as Senior Business Executive. You are expected to report at 8:00 AM tomorrow.}
I stared at the screen. He had requested me ‘personally’.
"I got it," I whispered to the quiet room. "I got the job."
Pat stood in the doorway, watching me with a mix of triumph and worry.
T
he game had started, and the only thing that mattered to me was what was at stake… my son.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
- Writer
