CHAPTER 8 - LEAH
1067 Words
Leah
The waiting was deliberate.
I realized it about fifteen minutes in, seated on the edge of a low leather couch in the pristine reception area, my hands folded tightly in my lap. Jacob’s secretary hadn’t offered me water. Hadn’t told me how long it would be. She’d taken one look at me, her lips tightening in something like satisfaction, before telling me to wait.
She was friends with Lizzie. I knew that much.
Every few minutes, she glanced over, her gaze flicking pointedly to the clock mounted behind her desk, then back to her computer. When I shifted, she sighed softly, like I was an inconvenience cluttering her day.
After half an hour, she finally looked up.
“He’s still in a meeting,” she said coolly. “You’ll have to be patient.”
“I was told he’d see me,” I said quietly.
Her smile was thin. “And he will. When he has time.”
Another twenty minutes passed. My stomach churned, nausea rising in waves I fought to keep down. I pressed a hand subtly against my abdomen, grounding myself.
Finally, she stood. “He can spare ten minutes.”
Ten minutes.
To tell him something that would change everything.
She led me to the glass doors and opened them without ceremony. “Don’t take longer than you’re worth.”
The words landed softly. Precisely.
Jacob didn’t invite me to sit.
He stood behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, jaw tight, irritation already etched into his face.
“What do you want?” he said. “I’m busy.”
“I won’t take long,” I said. My voice shook despite my effort. “I just needed to tell you something important.”
He crossed his arms. “You’ve already said enough.”
I swallowed. “I’m pregnant.”
The silence that followed was sharp, cutting.
He laughed once, short and disbelieving. “No, you’re not.”
“I am.”
“You expect me to believe that?” His eyes were cold now, assessing. “This is another attempt to manipulate me.”
I reached into my bag with trembling fingers and pulled out the folded paperwork. “I was hospitalized. They ran blood tests. It’s confirmed.”
I set the paper on his desk.
He stared at it for a long moment before picking it up. His expression didn’t change as he read, but something tightened in his jaw.
“You planned this,” he said finally.
“No,” I whispered. “I didn’t.”
“You knew what you were doing,” he continued, his voice calm and certain. “You saw an opportunity.”
“I didn’t even know I was pregnant,” I said. “I found out after I collapsed.”
He set the paper down carefully. “Convenient.”
“Jacob,” I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “We were both drinking. We were both emotional. This wasn’t calculated.”
“You were sober enough,” he replied. “I wasn’t.”
“That doesn’t make me responsible for everything,” I said softly. “This doesn’t have to be a disaster. People coparent all the time. We don’t have to—”
“Yes, we do,” he interrupted. “We will marry.”
The words were delivered like a business decision.
My breath caught. “That’s ridiculous. This isn’t the nineteenth century. People don’t need to be married to raise a child.”
“You don’t understand how this works,” he said flatly.
“I think I do,” I replied. “You’re angry. You’re embarrassed. But forcing a marriage—”
“I just took over the company,” he cut in. “My board is still stacked with my father’s and grandfather’s allies. They tolerate me because I present stability.” His gaze sharpened. “A child out of wedlock is not stability.”
“That’s insane,” I whispered.
“There’s a morality clause,” he continued. “If this becomes public without a marriage, I’ll be voted out as CEO before the ink is dry. I will not let you cost me anything else.”
“I’m not trying to ruin you,” I said, my chest tight. “I just wanted you to know.”
“And now you do,” he replied. “So you’ll do what’s necessary.”
“I won’t marry someone who hates me.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
The words landed with brutal certainty.
“You have no money,” he went on. “No home. No family support. You’re barely holding onto your education.” He stepped closer. “I can make sure you don’t finish college. I can make sure no one hires you. This city is smaller than you think.”
My vision blurred. “You’d destroy me.”
“I’d protect myself,” he corrected. “And my child.”
“You can’t just threaten me into this.”
“I can,” he said quietly. “And if you think you can raise this baby without me, you’re wrong.” His voice dropped. “I will file for custody. I will have you declared unfit. No income. No stable housing. A history of hospitalization.” He tilted his head. “Do you really think a judge will side with you?”
I felt sick.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, and for the first time, I believed that he believed it. “But I will not let you ruin what I’ve built.”
I stared at him, my hands clenched at my sides.
“Fine,” I said at last, the word tasting like ash. “But don’t pretend this is anything but coercion.”
His expression didn’t change. “Call it whatever you need to.”
I turned and walked out before my legs could give way.
The secretary didn’t look up as I passed.
Inside the elevator, the walls felt too close, the air too thin. I pressed my palm to my stomach, breathing through the panic clawing its way up my throat.
Married.
Trapped.
Threatened into silence.
But beneath the fear, something steady took root.
He could threaten me.
He could control the world around me.
But he would never control how fiercely I loved this child.
And one day, that would matter.
- Writer
