Who is the Father?

Anna’s POV

Seven years later.

I smoothed the front of my gray trousers, adjusted my blazer, and took a deep breath in front of the executive wing.

As a senior acquisition team coordinator at Super Eagles Entertainment, I was used to high-pressure mornings. Yet today, the entire floor felt on the verge of exploding. Files circulated from hand to hand, feverish whispers rose from the desks, and abandoned coffee cups bore witness to the general agitation. Everyone was bracing for the official merger meeting.

"The board of directors is already seated," my secretary, Sofia, whispered to me, handing me a stack of financial reports. "The new CEO arrived ten minutes early. Everyone says he's ruthless."

"Everything will be fine," I replied, forcing my voice to remain calm. "We have all the necessary data."

I pushed open the heavy glass door and entered the conference room.

My gaze swept across the long mahogany table before coming to a halt on the man seated at the far end. My heart immediately began to pound frantically.

I froze.

Broad shoulders. A firm, angular jaw. Hazel eyes with glacial reflections. He wore a charcoal suit, his large hands resting quietly on the polished wood.

Anthony.

The air suddenly seemed to leave my lungs. For two endless seconds, I remained rooted to the spot. Seven years vanished in an instant, reviving all the pain that had driven me across the ocean.

He looked up. Our eyes met, and for a fraction of a second, the slight twitch of his jaw confirmed that he had recognized me.

But there was no warmth in his eyes. No surprise. Only a cold, deep resentment that chilled my blood.

Get a grip, I told myself, swallowing hard. You're at work. Act professional.

I forced my legs to move, pulled out a chair in the middle of the table, and sat down. Keeping my back straight, I took out my notebook just as the vice president began his presentation.

Throughout the hour that followed, I felt Anthony's gaze weighing on me. Every time someone touched upon our division's results, his eyes turned in my direction, cold and calculating. He looked at me as if I were a stranger who had wronged him.

As the presenter scrolled through the slides, my eyes drifted in spite of myself to Anthony's left hand, resting on the table.

My chest tightened. His ring finger was bare. No wedding band.

Had he never married?

My throat went dry as a terrifying thought crossed my mind: What if he discovered the existence of my son? What if he tried to take him from me?

I clenched my knees under the table to contain my panic. He must never find out. I had spent seven long years rebuilding our lives. I couldn't let him destroy it all.

Anthony was sitting close enough that I could still perceive the woody notes of his cologne. Yet, he felt a thousand miles away.

"That concludes the presentation of the third-quarter results," the vice president announced, clapping his hands. "Thank you all."

The executives stood up and began packing their laptops. I quickly gathered my files, eager to get as far away from Anthony as possible.

"Miss Ward."

His deep voice sliced through the chatter of papers and stopped me dead in my tracks.

I turned around slowly. He was still seated at the end of the table and didn't even look at me as he closed his leather portfolio.

"Please stay for a moment. I’d like to go over your department's transition files with you," he stated in a neutral tone.

The other board members left the room, and the door clicked shut behind them.

The silence became almost unbearable.

I stayed near the table, clutching my folder to my chest like a shield. Anthony didn't stand up right away. He slowly recapped his pen, pushed his tablet to the side, and finally raised his eyes to mine.

He slid a yellow folder in my direction, his expression unreadable.

"On page four, there are three inconsistencies in the regional marketing budget. I want you to correct them before four o'clock."

"I can explain those numbers to you..."

"I don't need explanations," he replied, shifting his attention back to his laptop screen. "You will correct those numbers in my office."

In his office?

Before I could answer, there was a soft knock at the door.

Sofia poked her head into the opening, visibly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Anna, but your nanny just called from the lobby. The school bus broke down, so she had to bring your son here. He's waiting for you in your office."

My heart began to hammer against my ribs.

No. I can't let him see him. I can't.

Anthony abruptly stopped typing on his keyboard and looked up.

"You have a son?" he asked, his expression suddenly darkening.

I swallowed hard.

"I... I need to step out for a moment."

His jaw tightened.

"Who is the father?"