13: Lilian's Revenge: Mitchell's Shocking Baby Claim
1137 Words
Lilian ~
The baby is one month old today. I know because Mitchell made damn sure every screen in the building reminded us. I'm sitting at my desk trying to pretend the numbers on my monitor make sense when the glass door to the executive wing bangs open. Heels click fast and angry down the corridor. I don't even have to look up to know it's her.
Mitchell Pearse storms straight past reception like it doesn't exist. Straight to my office. No knock. She just pushes the door wide, steps in, and kicks it shut behind her with one sharp heel.
In her arms is the baby. Tiny. Wrapped in soft gray. Sleeping. His little mouth moves like he's dreaming about milk.
She doesn't sit. Just stands there holding him like a loaded gun.
I force myself to breathe slow. "What do you want, Mitchell?"
She looks me up and down. Slow.
"So you're the new office slut he's f*****g now." Her voice is calm. Almost bored. "Tasting leftovers. Cute."
My stomach twists but I keep my face blank. "If you're here to insult me, door's right there."
"Oh honey, I'm just getting started." She shifts the baby higher against her shoulder. His tiny head lolls. "I f****d the best out of Edwin years ago. Everything you're getting now? I already broke it in. Trained him. Used him up. You're just the cleanup crew."
I clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache. "Get to the point."
She smiles. Small. Mean. "The point is this little boy." She tilts him so I can see his face better. Dark lashes. Edwin's nose. It hurts to look. "He's Edwin Pearse Junior. His heir. And I'm claiming what's his. The empire. The money. The name. All of it. For him."
My heart is slamming against my ribs. "You don't get to decide that."
"I already did." She rocks the baby gently even while her eyes stay sharp on me. The baby makes a small sleepy sound. She hushes him automatically. Soft. Motherly. It makes the venom in her next words hit harder.
"w***e," she says quietly, like it's a fact. "Slut. Side piece. Office p***y. Pick your favorite. Doesn't change what's coming."
I stand up slowly. Hands flat on the desk so she doesn't see them shake. "You finished?"
"Not even close." She steps closer. Baby still asleep between us like a shield. "Tell Edwin his ex-wife and his son are waiting in the boardroom. The chair is already there. We're discussing child support. Real money. The kind that requires him to open every book, every account, every dirty little secret. Monthly. Non-negotiable. Or I go public louder."
She turns. Walks out. Doesn't look back.
I stand there breathing hard for maybe ten seconds before my legs remember how to move.
I follow.
The boardroom is packed. Not just the chair - three other directors showed up fast. Phones out. Recording. Mitchell sits at the far end. Baby in a car seat beside her now. Awake. Blinking slow at the lights.
She doesn't waste time.
"I want two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a month," she announces. Voice clear. "Plus trust fund setup. Immediate access to company health plan for the child. And full financial disclosure - every quarter, audited, no redactions. Starting today."
The chair clears his throat. "Mrs. Pearse..."
"Missus still works," she cuts in. "Legally I'm still tied until the divorce financials close completely. And this child is his. DNA will confirm. Until then, he pays."
One director mutters something about extortion. Another is already texting under the table.
Then the door opens again.
Edwin.
He looks like he hasn't slept in days. Suit perfect but eyes bloodshot. He stops just inside the doorway. Takes one look at the baby and something in his face cracks. Not anger. Something worse. Exhaustion. Old pain ripping open fresh.
Mitchell smiles at him. Sweet. "Hi, Daddy."
"Don't," he says. Voice low. Dangerous. "Don't call me that."
"Why not? Look at him." She lifts the car seat a little. Baby stares at Edwin with big dark eyes. "He's got your mouth. Your temper already - I can tell."
Edwin doesn't move closer. "You're not ashamed."
She tilts her head. "Of what?"
"You have the f*****g nerve to bring another man's son into my building. Post those photos. Claim I'm responsible for Javi's kid."
The room sucks in air.
Mitchell's smile drops. She stands up fast. Baby startles, starts to fuss.
"My son," she snaps. Voice rising. "Our son. You think you can stand there and deny him? After everything?"
"He is not mine." Edwin's words are quiet. Final. "We were divorced. You were f*****g Javi raw in our bed. Nine months later this happens? Math doesn't work."
She laughs. Sharp. Ugly. "You don't know when I got pregnant. You weren't exactly keeping track. You were too busy building your precious empire."
The baby starts to cry. Small at first. Then louder.
Mitchell scoops him up, bounces him. "Shhh, baby. Daddy's just scared. He'll come around."
Edwin's hands fist at his sides. "DNA. Now. Court-ordered. Independent lab. I want it on record."
"Fine," she spits. "But until those results come back - you pay. Or I tell the press everything. The affair. The desk s*x with your little consultant w***e. The bastard heir you won't claim. All of it."
The chair finally speaks. "This is highly irregular..."
"Shut up," Mitchell snaps at him. Then back to Edwin. "You embarrassed? Good. You should be. Walking around like you're untouchable. Like you didn't throw me away. Like you didn't deserve this."
Edwin looks at the crying baby. Something flickers in his eyes. Not love. Not yet. Just… weight. Heavy. Crushing.
"I know he's not mine," he says again. Mostly to himself. "But if by some sick twist he is… I won't let you use him as a weapon."
Mitchell laughs again. "Too late, Ed. He's already here."
The baby wails louder. Red-faced. Tiny fists waving.
Edwin finally steps forward. Not toward her. Toward the car seat. He looks down at the screaming infant for a long second.
Then he turns and walks out.
No words. No goodbye.
Just gone.
I stand frozen in the doorway.
Mitchell catches my eye. Smiles slow. Victorious.
"Run along, slut," she says softly. "Your turn's over."
The baby keeps crying.
And I feel it in my bones - this isn't ending today.
This is only starting to hurt worse.
My chest is so tight I can barely pull air in.
I turn. Walk away fast before anyone sees my face crumple.
Because right now?
I don't know if I'm more scared of her winning…
Or of Edwin actually being that little boy's father.
And what that would do to us.
To me.
To everything we've barely started to build.
- Writer
