Chapter five
1073 Words
Cynthia leaned back in a plush, leather armchair in Fred's office, her head reeling. The office was too big, too opulent, as if to scare you. There wasn't anything in it that didn't scream money— Vaulted ceiling, exquisitely polished wood furniture, one huge window looking out on the city skyline. But it was all a blur to her eyes, as Fred's words echoed through her mind.
He's been stalking me. He found out I was pregnant before I even did.
Her heart pounded against her chest. Fred was in front of her, shoulder to the desk, face easy but fierce. So unlike the man she had first known—the bartender who had taken her in her brokenness. Now he was a man holding back, a man with secrets.
"I know this is a lot to take in," Fred said to her, his voice unwavering. "But I wanted to see you, in person."
Cynthia was numb with shock. She couldn't. Her hands shook in her lap.
"You're continuing on," Fred continued, his eyes fixed on hers. "You're a co-owner of this hospital. I know everything about your disease. I had you under surveillance after that night we spent together."
Cynthia's stomach dropped. "You—what?"
"I knew you were pregnant before you did," he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I've been keeping an eye on you since then."
Cynthia's heart began pounding. "Why? Why would you do something like this?"
Fred's gaze softened, if only fractionally. "Because I've waited for this day. I lost my wife many years ago. She could not give me the one thing that I wished for—children. I've spent years working on how to make that a reality."
He stopped, waiting for the weight of what he was saying to sink in. Cynthia didn't know what to respond with. He was saying so much to her, and yet she still wasn't quite sure why he was going to all this trouble.
"I've done the dates," Fred continued. "I think the baby might be mine. The dates fit. And if it is… I want to have some control in its life.".
Cynthia's head spun. This was impossible. He had to be crazy. "What are you talking about? What do you want from me?"
Fred rose from his chair, his expression unyielding. "I'm making a proposition. A contract marriage. Economic stability. Total medical benefits. A future for the baby. But for it, I want absolute legal rights as the father."
Cynthia's breath caught in her throat. Her chest constricted and she struggled not to fold up. "You can't just—You can't just take charge of my life like that. I don't even know if the baby is yours!"
Fred's eyes slit into hard slits, his voice harder. "If it's not mine, I'll adopt it anyway. But I want you, too."
Cynthia's heart faltered. "You want me? To be your wife? After everything you've just told me?"
Fred took a step closer, his eyes never wavering from hers. "I've never wanted anything more, Cynthia. You're not an end to a means to me. But I'm not willing to walk away with nothing, either. I need you to agree to this."
Her head was spinning, her mind racing in all directions. This cannot happen. This man is not the man I thought he was. "This is madness," she whispered.
Fred's face softened a bit. "I realize this is a lot to take in. But I'm offering you everything you need: security, care, and a future for your child. I'm offering you the chance to be in a place to live above whatever problems you've gotten yourself entangled with."
She looked at him, her mind racing. He was right about something—she was a mess. Her divorce had sucked the life out of her. She was lost, terrified, and alone. The baby she carried inside her was one more thing she didn't have a clue what to do with. But this proposal—this bargain—it sounded like a trap.
"I don't even know you," she said, fighting to steady her voice. "How can I trust you?"
Fred's face was set, but his eyes were kind, almost sympathetic. "You don't need to trust me yet. But you will. You'll understand that this is the best thing you can do—for you and your baby."
Cynthia's tear trickled down her cheek, but she wiped it away. "I don't know what to do," she whispered.
Fred reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick envelope, which he slapped meaningfully onto the table in front of her. "This is a legal document. I want you to read it. You can take your time. But don't take too much time. This offer won't be on the table forever."
Cynthia glared at the envelope, her shaking hand reaching out to take it. She couldn't breathe. Her life was spiraling out of control, and she had no idea what to do. She was being tugged in two different directions, wanting to scream and wanting to cry. She slowly opened the envelope, the papers inside seeming to weigh a ton.
She read the first lines, unable to take in the words. It was all there—everything that Fred had to offer. Money. Attention. Her child's future. But at a price. Her life. Her choices. Her freedom.
"I need time to think," Cynthia croaked.
Fred's face eased, his smile sharp. "You don't have much time, Cynthia. This offer won't be on the table indefinitely."
The words stung her face. She wanted to run. She wanted to just stand up and walk out of the room and never look back. But something inside her—something desperate—understood that this might be her only opportunity to escape the madness she'd been living.
Fred turned toward the door, his footsteps slow and deliberate. “Take your time,” he said. “But not too much. I’m not a patient man.”
She stood there, seeing him leave, the door closing softly behind him. She sat, the contract holding her fixed in her hands. Her heart was racing, and her brain was a mess. She had no clue what she was going to do. She just knew that everything was going to change now, and she wasn't the one in charge of it.
The clock was ticking.
- Writer
