Too Late To Choose Me

“Sir, it’s getting late. I’ve said this for the hundredth time tonight. I think we should—” He glared at me, and I immediately shut my mouth, pressing my lips together. I glanced around the bar. Several unfamiliar faces stared back at me, their curious gazes making me uncomfortable. I looked down at my dress. It was a sleeveless, knee-length dress I had carefully chosen for the business gala earlier that evening. I had spent hours getting ready, determined to look presentable beside my boss. The deal had been worth millions of dollars. If it went through, I had even been promised a raise. But after all our hard work, the client had simply said, “Sorry, Mr. Ashford. We won't be proceeding with the deal. It's cancelled.” My jaw had dropped. Damien, however, hadn't reacted. His expression had remained perfectly composed. He had simply risen from his seat, said nothing, and walked out with his shoulders held high. A few minutes later, he had instructed the driver to stop at a random bar. And now, he was working his way through bottles of alcohol. I glanced at my wristwatch. It was past nine. “Another bottle,” Damien said. The bartender hesitated before handing him another. It was his fourth. He lifted the bottle to his lips, but his hand suddenly wobbled. The bottle slipped from his grip and crashed against the table. The contents splashed across my face. “Shit.” I gritted my teeth and wiped my face with my hands. “I’m so sorry,” I muttered to the bartender before turning toward Damien. He was still staring blankly at the mess on the table. “The bottle is broken. Let's go somewhere else,” I persuaded. He nodded drunkenly and tried to stand. He swayed immediately. I quickly slipped an arm around his shoulders and helped him up. A grunt escaped me as most of his weight fell against me. He was completely drunk. I grabbed my bag and carefully led him toward the exit. With every step, the smell of alcohol grew stronger. I held my breath as we walked. When we reached the entrance, Damien suddenly grabbed the door handle and refused to let go. The security officers raised their eyebrows. I gave them an embarrassed smile before pulling out my phone. “Please let go,” I pleaded. We were blocking the entrance, and Damien clung to the handle as though his life depended on it. I finally breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted Victor approaching. Together, we managed to get Damien into the waiting car. Once we were inside, the driver pulled away. The Ashford residence was nearly twenty minutes from the bar. I rested my head against the headrest and closed my eyes. I was exhausted. The disappointment of the failed deal weighed heavily on me. After several minutes, I felt movement beside me and opened my eyes. Damien was loosening his tie and trying to make himself comfortable. I quickly looked away. I had to admit something I had kept hidden for years. I had a crush on my boss. Ever since I started working at D Ford, I had admired Damien Ashford. I worked hard not only for the salary or the promised raise. I wanted to see him succeed. I wanted to see him smile again. His happiness had somehow become important to me. But I knew better than to let him find out. The car finally arrived at the Ashford residence. I stepped out and walked around to the other side. Victor was already there. He opened the door, and I helped Damien out. A maid hurried toward us. “Sir Damien…” She bowed before trying to take him from me. Instead, Damien held onto me stubbornly. The maid gave me an apologetic look before gesturing toward the stairs. I sighed. “Come on, sir.” I carefully helped him upstairs. At the end of the hallway, I opened the door to his bedroom. The moment I stepped inside, I froze. The master bedroom was enormous—large enough to be a small apartment compared with the place I lived. I stared around for a moment, admiring the elegant furnishings. A throbbing ache in my arms brought me back to reality. I hurried toward the bed and helped Damien sit down. Finally, I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I turned to leave. Then I felt a hand close around my wrist. I stumbled backward. “Sir?” Damien looked at me through heavy eyes. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he whispered, “Stay.” My heart pounded. I knew he wasn't himself. He was drunk, exhausted, and barely aware of his surroundings. I gently pulled my hand free. “You need to sleep.” I left the room soon afterward. --- Weeks later, I sat in a doctor's office, staring nervously at the man in the white coat. A stethoscope hung around his neck, and he held my medical file in one hand. After reviewing it for another moment, he looked up with a smile. “Miss Iris, congratulations.” I blinked. “You're six weeks pregnant.” The room seemed to go silent. “Pregnant?” “Yes. Approximately six weeks.” My heart pounded. The doctor's voice continued, but his words began fading into the background. “You should register for antenatal care as soon as possible…” I barely heard him. “What are your plans, Miss Iris?” “Sir?” He looked at me patiently. “I…I need some time to think about my options.” I slowly rose from the chair. My mind was a mess. Six weeks. The number repeated endlessly in my head. --- I returned home and began getting ready for the evening's celebration. Earlier that week, D Ford had secured its first international investment—a massive multimillion-dollar deal that had completely changed the company's future. Tonight, everyone was celebrating. I arrived at the venue and immediately noticed the crowd. Reporters surrounded Damien. I took a deep breath and approached them, forcing a smile onto my face despite the fear twisting inside me. Eventually, Damien finished answering their questions. Then his eyes landed on me. He smiled. I swallowed hard. “I went to the hospital today,” I whispered. His smile remained. “I found out that I'm pregnant.” For a moment, he simply stared at me. My heart pounded as I waited for his reaction. Then he smiled even wider. My brows furrowed. “Vanessa said yes,” he said happily. I froze. “What?” He looked completely overjoyed. “She said yes.” My stomach dropped. I s tared at him, unable to understand. Vanessa? Who's Vanessa? What did she say yes to? And why did Damien look at me as though he had just received the best news of his life? I forced a smile, even as my heart shattered. “Congratulations, sir.” Then I turned away.