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8. YOU’RE NOT FATHERLESS
公開日:
2026-07-06 17:10:25
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HE PAID ME TO FORGET MY SON…NOW I WORK FOR HIM 11. THE FIRST MISTAKE
🌹TESSA🌹The coffee poured and ran across his perfectly organized documents. I watched it spread, a dark stain creeping across the white pages, soaking through the paper and bleeding into the words beneath. The liquid pooled around the edges of his desk and dripped onto the floor in slow drops.I froze on the spot. My hands were still in the air, still holding the tray, still frozen in the position they had been in when the cup tilted. I watched the coffee stain his papers and I could not move. I could not make my body do anything except stand there and watch the mess I had created.It had not even taken up one minute. One minute of working in his space and I had already created a mess. I was definitely getting fired. This was it. The first day and I had already ruined everything. Wayne's medication. The school fees. The rent. All of it slipping away because I could not keep my hands steady."I'm so sorry," I said, and my voice came out thin and shaky.Raymond remained calm. His face
HE PAID ME TO FORGET MY SON…NOW I WORK FOR HIM 10. FIRST MORNING
🌹TESSA🌹The building loomed above me, all glass and steel and the kind of money that did not have to explain itself. I walked through the revolving doors and I felt the cool air of the lobby wash over me. The receptionist from yesterday was behind the desk, her hair perfect, her smile warm and professional."Good morning, Ms. Hart," she said, and her voice was friendly and welcoming. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and I felt something loosen in my chest. She remembered me. She had smiled at me. Maybe I could do this. Maybe I could walk through these doors every day and pretend I belonged here."Good morning," I said, and I tried to put as much confidence into my voice as I could.I walked to the elevator and I pressed the button for the eleventh floor. The doors closed and the car began to rise. My stomach lurched and I pressed my hand against my abdomen, trying to steady myself. I could never get used to this.The numbers climbed slowly, each one a step closer to the reality of w
HE PAID ME TO FORGET MY SON…NOW I WORK FOR HIM 9. NOTHING LOOKED RIGHT
🌹TESSA🌹I stood in front of the cracked mirror in my cramped bedroom, my small wardrobe scattered across the bed behind me. Blouses and skirts and dresses I had bought from thrift stores over the years lay in a heap, each one discarded after I had held it up to my body and felt the familiar sinking sensation in my chest.Nothing looked right.Nothing fit the way it was supposed to fit.The blouse that had seemed acceptable in the dim light of the thrift store now looked faded and worn, the fabric thin and cheap against my fingers. The skirt that had felt professional in the cramped dressing room now seemed too tight across my hips, too short, too wrong for a place like Reddington Group Holdings.I pulled on another blouse and turned to the mirror. The fabric strained across my chest. The buttons pulled, creating small gaps that revealed the skin beneath. I tugged at the fabric, trying to make it lie flat, but it would not cooperate. I looked at my reflection and I felt the familiar
HE PAID ME TO FORGET MY SON…NOW I WORK FOR HIM 8. YOU’RE NOT FATHERLESS
🌹TESSA🌹The street blurred past me as the bus lurched forward, the city lights smearing into streaks of gold and white through the grimy window. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass and watched the buildings slide by, each one looking the same as the last. The hum of the engine vibrated through my bones and somewhere behind me a baby was crying, but I heard none of it.I do not care if you like me. I only care if you are useful.His deep voice echoed in my head, the words repeating themselves over and over until they felt like they had been carved into my skull. I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks.Why did he say that? Why those words? Did he remember me? Did he know who I was and was he pretending not to?I prayed it was the latter. I prayed he did not remember me. Because if he remembered me, if he knew who I was, he would not hire me. He would not let me anywhere near him. He would not let me anywhere near Dwayne. And I could not lose this job
HE PAID ME TO FORGET MY SON…NOW I WORK FOR HIM 7. MR REDDINGTON
🌹TESSA🌹 Mrs. Brooks walked ahead of me without looking back. The sharp click of her heels against the polished floor marked a rhythm I followed mechanically, my gaze fixed on the back of her immaculate blazer. The hallway stretched endlessly before us, glass walls on either side revealing rows of employees hunched over their computers. Not a single one looked up as we passed. Their shoulders were rigid, their movements precise, and the only sound was the distant hum of machinery and the relentless tapping of keyboards. I watched them and wondered if they could see it on me. The fear. The desperation. The fact that I was walking toward the man who had paid me to forget my son. My palms were slick with sweat and I pressed them against my thighs, feeling the rough fabric of my cheap blazer beneath my fingers. My heart was already racing, a frantic drumbeat that seemed too loud in the quiet of the corridor. Mrs. Brooks stopped at the elevator and pressed the call button. The doors s
HE PAID ME TO FORGET MY SON…NOW I WORK FOR HIM 6. THE CEO IS HERE
🌹TESSA🌹Wait what!Just like that?I was employed.Not just employed but an executive assistant to the richest CEO in the country. The richest CEO in the country who happened to be the father of my son. The father of my son who had paid me to disappear eight years ago and now I was sitting in his company's HR office being told I had the job.The relief that washed over me was physical. I felt it in my shoulders first, the tension I had been holding for weeks finally releasing, and then it spread to my chest, this warm flood that made my eyes sting and my throat tighten. I almost cried. I could feel the tears building behind my eyes and I blinked rapidly to push them back down because I was not going to cry in front of this woman with her crisp British accent and her cold professional demeanor.Mrs. Brooks reached across her desk and handed me a thick file. The paper was heavy and smooth and I could smell the newness of it, the crisp scent of fresh printing. Her eyes were sharp and a
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