I Can't Help Myself

Chapter 7 Should She Keep This Child?

"I came straight from the airport to see you! Aren't you happy to see me?" The beautiful girl fluttered her long lashes, her sparkling eyes brimming with anticipation as she gazed at James.

James returned her gaze tenderly. "Weren't you supposed to return at the end of the month? What brought you back early?"

"How could I stay abroad when we're about to get married? Don't you miss me at all?"

As she spoke, James' peripheral vision caught Clara standing a short distance away. Clad in jeans and canvas shoes, she stood rooted to the spot, her bewildered expression making her seem painfully out of place.

Following James' glance, the girl whispered, "Is that your new secretary? Why is she staring at us like that? So weird..."

James stiffened slightly before forcing a smile. "Wait for me in the office, sweetheart. I'll be right there."

Tilting her head at Clara, the girl suddenly looped her arms around James' neck and planted a kiss on his lips. "Hurry back," she purred, her smile saccharine. "I brought you a present."

Once she left, James approached Clara. "What brings you here? Need something?"

Clara bit her lip. "I... I wanted to borrow some money..." The confession of her pregnancy lodged in her throat, unspoken.

Relief flickered across James' face at her request. "Is that all? You could've called. How much?"

Eyes downcast, Clara mumbled, "Just two thousand dollars..."

James studied her curiously. "Fine. Give me your account details—my assistant will wire it shortly." He unlocked his phone and handed it to her to input the information.

Clara typed swiftly, murmured thanks, and turned toward the elevators. The moment the doors closed, a hollow laugh bubbled up. What a fool she'd been. Their night together had been just a fling born of chance; yet she'd dared imagine raising a child with him? With his wedding looming, why would he want an unplanned baby? Reality crystallized: however much she longed to keep it, this child could never be born.

Though Clara departed, her heartbroken expression clung to James' mind. Was she truly so destitute she couldn't scrape together two thousand dollars?

"James!" Lori huffed, still draped around him, his fiancée pouted. "I rushed here jet-lagged, and you're spacing out? Some welcome!"

James gave a strained smile. "Lori, why don't you go home and rest? You must be exhausted from the flight. My day's jam-packed, but I'll take you to dinner tonight, alright?"

With feminine intuition, Lori instantly sensed something unusual between James and that woman. Why else would he become so visibly unsettled? She was dying to ask but held her tongue, not wanting to annoy him.

Carefully fastening the cufflinks she'd bought for him, she added with a playful pout, "I picked these especially for you. You'd better wear them every day now."

James nodded with a perfunctory smile, brushing a kiss against her cheek.

The moment Lori left, James called his assistant in. "Transfer twenty thousand to Clara's account immediately."

The assistant jotted down the details, then hesitantly asked, "Sir, is transferring money enough? Should we arrange better housing for Miss Green? Her current neighborhood isn't ideal for someone in her delicate condition."

"Delicate condition? What are you talking about?" James frowned.

The assistant adjusted his glasses. "She didn't mention the pregnancy to you?"

"...She's pregnant???"

Blinking rapidly, the assistant placed a file on James' desk. "The investigation you requested on Miss Green—her medical report from two days ago confirms a one-month pregnancy. Given the timeline... the child would almost certainly be yours, sir."

James' stomach dropped. One night was all it took? The odds were insane.

"If it's mine, why wouldn't she tell me directly?"

The assistant hesitated. This was James Lancaster we're talking about—CEO of Lancaster Group, the city's most eligible bachelor. Most women would seize this ticket to a life of luxury—why would Clara Green walk away?

"That's enough speculation. Just transfer the money and leave," James snapped.

As the assistant turned to go, he suddenly spun back, adjusting his glasses nervously. "Sir... downstairs earlier, I overheard Miss Green scheduling an abortion appointment. Perhaps she meant to tell you about the baby today, but after seeing you with Miss White..." He swallowed hard. "She seems different from those gold-diggers. Maybe she doesn't want to use the child as—"

James' face went stone-cold before he could finish. "Which hospital?"

"The downtown women's center, almost certainly," the assistant stammered.

"Understood. That'll be all."

As the assistant exited, James Lancaster tugged at his silk tie in agitation, pacing two full circles around his office. Could that woman actually be pregnant with his child?

The way she'd hesitated earlier—she'd clearly been wrestling with something important. After a moment's deliberation, James grabbed his tailored jacket and car keys, striding toward the women's hospital.

Whatever the case, he needed answers. Was that child truly his? Nor would he let any woman use a pregnancy to manipulate him.

Inside the operating room...

Clara lay dressed in the thin surgical gown, the anesthetist tightening a tourniquet until her veins stood out blue against pale skin. The icy alcohol swab traced her inner elbow.

"Final warning, miss," the anesthetist cautioned, needle poised. "Once I administer this anesthetic, there's no reversing it. You're certain about this?"

Clara nodded stiffly, turning her head aside as her fingers clenched the sheets. The needle pricked—a sharp bite of pain—then...