His Weak Woman

The Family Business

I smiled like I believed every word.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said. Then I wrapped my arms around both of them and pulled them close.

For 3 seconds, it was perfect. A family hug. The kind I’d dreamed of at the altar.

Charles joined in last. His arms came around us, heavy and cold.

Everyone watching thought: What a beautiful family.

Our eyes said something else.

His said: Act.

Mine said: I see you.

Mom and Dad said: Our baby girl is safe.

Lie, lie, lie.

It didn’t take long. Cars started. Engines purred. Goodbyes got shorter the further they walked.

I watched from the balcony as my parents’ car disappeared down the driveway. The further they got, the louder I wished they could read my mind. Don’t go. He’s lying. I’m bleeding inside.

But they couldn’t.

And in less than a minute, they were gone.

The mansion went silent again. Empty. Haunted.

Charles glanced at his gold watch. His face changed.

“Oh s**t! I’m late for Pinky’s doctor appointment!” He was already moving, almost tripping over his own feet to get out the door.

He paused at the stairs. Turned back. Looked at me like I was dirt on his shoe.

“You can go back to your room, you barren witch,” he spat. “Don’t come down till I say so.”

The door slammed.

And just like that, I was alone again.

*MANHATTAN. THE SAVANNAH MEETS THE SKYLINE.*

Down past the young trees and the moist wind that rolled in from the river, Manhattan split in two. The countryside with its quiet farms… and the urban jungle with its glass teeth.

Manhattan was cool. Dry most days. But sometimes it pretended to have seasons, just to keep you guessing.

Where else could you have nature and skyscrapers fighting for the same sky?

Charles drove his matte-black Porsche 911 GT3 downtown. Top down. Engine roaring. Everyone stared. In this city, money moved in Porsches and secrets moved in tinted windows.

The buildings got taller. Sharper. Each one had a purpose. Banks. Law firms. Hospitals that cost more than houses.

He pulled up to one that stopped traffic white and blue glass, shaped like a wave.

From far away, the sign read: “An apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

Up close, the real name gleamed in chrome:

*HOPE MEDICAL CENTER*

Come and get treated.

Charles didn’t wait in line. Men like him didn’t.

He’d donated $20 million for the new wing. His name was on the donor wall in gold letters.

“Sir, right this way,” a nurse rushed to him. “Dr. Randoos is expecting you. Private entrance.”

They walked him through silent halls to a clinic door that read:

*DR. RANDOOS, MD*

Chief Gynecologist & Reproductive Surgeon

Inside, Pinky was already on the exam table. Gown open. Feet in stirrups. Smiling like she owned the place.

Dr. Randoos stood up fast. This was the man they called “Father of Uterus”. 40 years in the game. He’d separated conjoined twins 30 years ago the operation that made him famous. One baby didn’t make it. The other one grew up to be Charles Taylor.

He owed Charles his career. Charles owed him… everything.

“Mr. Taylor! Welcome!” Dr. Randoos pumped his hand. “And Miss Pinky, you’re looking radiant.”

He pulled up the ultrasound. Black and white. A little bean with a flickering heartbeat.

“Having said that,” the doctor said, beaming, “I believe we’ll be expecting a bouncing baby BOY from Miss Pinky. Strong heartbeat. Perfect development. 12 weeks.”

Charles’s whole face changed. The cold billionaire vanished.

A son. An heir. A Taylor.

He couldn’t stop grinning. Couldn’t wait to get her home and celebrate the “old-fashioned way”.

*ON THE DRIVE BACK. 6:22 PM.*

Pinky slid into the passenger seat of the Porsche. Angry.

“Why did it take you so long, Charles?” She crossed her arms. “You missed half the appointment. I had to explain everything to Dr. Randoos myself.”

Charles kept his eyes on the road. Picking his words like he was defusing a bomb.

“I stopped at the mall,” he said smoothly. “Wanted to find something precious for the mother of my unborn child.”

He let that sit. Let her think he’d been shopping for diamonds.

“Unfortunately,” he sighed, “I realized spending time with you was more precious than any gift. I’m sorry, Pinky. It won’t happen again.”

Her anger melted. Just like that.

“Aw, darling. It’s okay. I forgive you.” She reached over and touched his thigh. “You’re the best father already.”

Then her smile turned sharp. Business-like.

“That reminds me, honey… there’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Charles pulled the Porsche to the curb. Curious now.

“Tell me.”

“I want in,” she said. No beating around it. “I want to be a member of the family business. Taylor Holdings. Board seat. My name on the letterhead.”

Charles stared at her. Then he started laughing. Not a chuckle. A full, deep, chronological laugh that lasted 10 seconds.

Like she’d asked to sit on the moon.

He put the car in drive without answering.

He wouldn’t even think about it.

Pinky’s face went red. Fast.

The car hadn’t even moved 10 meters before she screamed “STOP THE CAR!”

Charles pulled over. She flung the door open and stormed into a restaurant on the corner. 5 minutes later she came back out with a whiskey in one hand and a lit cigarette between her fingers.

“You know you shouldn’t be smoking or drinking in your condition, right?” Charles said, voice tight.

She took a long drag and blew smoke in his face. “Are you kidding me, Charles? Your company makes these. Taylor Tobacco. Taylor Spirits. What do you produce them for? I’m just promoting the brand.”

His jaw clenched. He reached across to snatch the cigarette from her.

“Don’t you DARE, Charles!” She jerked back, whiskey sloshing. “Don’t mistake me for that weak w***e sitting at home in the name of your wife! I’m not Nila! I don’t take orders!”

The word w***e echoed off the Porsche’s windshield.

All Charles wanted in that moment was to go home. Away from the drama. Away from her.

“Sorry, love,” he said, voice flat. “But we need to go now.”

He got back in the car alone. Left the engine running.

“Jake,” he called to his driver. “Stay with her. Make sure she gets home safe.”

Then he drove off, leaving Pinky screaming insults at the curb and Jake stuck babysitting a pregnant, drunk, furious woman.

An act that earned him a middle finger and a string of curses he’d heard for weeks.