08

Victoria Harper

Daniel wasn’t alone in his office. 

He was buried inside his assistant — right there, on his campaign desk.

His assistant was bent over the desk, his hands all over her, his lips on her neck. 

The same man who called me a whore, who refused to touch me, who demanded I kill my baby for his elections was fucking his assistant like I didn’t exist.

My chest burned. My legs shook. Then Malcolm’s hand touched my waist from behind, grounding me, the only thing stopping me from collapsing.

“Daniel” I managed a whisper to catch their attention. 

But all I got was a look from them. Not a single expression of guilt on their faces. 

They looked like they had just been disturbed or robbed of the time of their life. 

Daniel just pulled his pants up while the girl fixed herself up, giving me a stare 

“How long has this been going on?” I asked him, fighting the urge to let him be the cause of my tears but my eyes were already burning

Daniel didn’t even flinch. He didn’t look ashamed. He didn’t look sorry.

“Don’t be dramatic, Victoria.”

He buttoned his shirt like we were talking about dinner plans, not betrayal.

His assistant with her lipstick smeared, her hair a mess had the audacity to smirk. “At least I give him what you couldn’t,” she sneered, lipstick smeared across her teeth.

My hand shook so badly I almost slapped her. All the thoughts stringing in my head was how do I make him feel the same hurt I was feeling in chest?

I didn’t think. I just turned, grabbed Malcolm by the collar, and crashed my mouth onto his — hard in front of Daniel.

It all happened in one moment. 

I could hear Daniel’s heavy angry breathing. His assistant gasped.

But I didn’t stop. I kissed Malcolm harder, my anger spilling out, my heart racing. It all happened in one minute. 

His lips were softer than they looked and he tasted faintly of smoke and mint 

Malcolm froze at first and then, but then he leaned into me, holding my waist and completely melting into me. 

His lips parted even more for me as he kissed me back. I wasn’t expecting him to kiss me back because I knew he hated me 

But God… his lips swooped me off my feet. I would’ve lost my balance if he wasn’t holding me by my waist. My thighs pressed together on instinct, my pulse raging in my ears 

I didn’t even remember Daniel was standing there. I wanted more of whatever this was. I hated myself for melting into him, for craving the taste of my tormentor’s mouth.

But in this moment, I didn’t give a fuck. 

My hand left his shirt collar and trailed to his neck, my fingers running through his hair 

He groaned into my mouth and at this point I was on fire but then he pulled back. 

My mouth was still apart and tingling. I was trying to stand still without his aid, balance my breathing and comprehend what just happened all at once. 

His eyes burned on mine like he wanted to kiss me again but he just swallowed and turned around and left instead. 

I turned. Daniel was still there.

He hadn’t left. He had watched every second.

Good. 

“It’s over. You can tell your secretary to play the supporting fiancée and stand beside you and act supporting fiancée for your campaigns. I hope people see the monster you are.” I spat, watching the rage on his face. 

He deserved every bit of rage he felt. Fuck his financial support, I was going to find another way to feed my dad’s medical bills and I was going to keep my baby.

I turned around to leave, finally letting myself be free of him, his neglect and abuse. 

“Don’t you dare walk out of that door, Victoria” he fumed. “Don’t you dare act self-righteous. You’re the one pregnant with another man’s bastard. At least I’m honest about what I want.”

I smiled to myself before I turned to face him. He didn’t deserve the explanation. He didn’t deserve to know why I was pregnant. He didn’t deserve me. “It’s funny that you think that you can still dictate what I do”

He didn’t answer. He just went to his desk, opened a drawer, and tossed an envelope at me.

I didn’t catch it but the contents spilled on the floor. I rolled my eyes at his useless tantrums when I realized what was the contents of the envelope 

My breath caught in my throat and eyes widened. They were… nude pictures 

It wasn’t just any nude photos. They were pictures of me. Naked and vulnerable. They were even variations, some of me on top of him, his face conveniently blurred

Some of me walking around naked and a whole others. 

My breaths became faster and rapid. My stomach lurched and my eyes pooled. 

“The first and only time we were together,” Daniel sneered, his eyes hard. “Did you really think I wouldn’t keep proof?” Daniel’s smile was cruel. “You wear a halo in public, but one leak of these—” he nudged a photo with his shoe “—and your perfect little life goes up in flames.

Tears stung my eyes as my hands shook. I felt the walls closing in, trapping me.

“Walk out that door, and I wonder what the press will say when they see these? And if that isn’t enough to tame you, you'll never see your father again. He’s not at the hospital anymore. 

He’s mine now, tucked away where only I decide if he breathes. One word, one slip, and I’ll pull the plug myself. You think that little stunt was funny? You think humiliating me in front of him was a smart move?”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I lifted my chin. “You humiliated me first, Daniel.”

His smirk was a satisfied one. “Now be a good little girl and abort that thing in your stomach and you’re going to behave like the good little fiancée I chose. Maybe then, maybe, I’ll forget that little stunt you just pulled. Otherwise…”

Chapter  8

Victoria Harper 

Now, it was my baby or my reputation—my father’s life hanging in the balance.

I couldn’t get the kiss out of my head.

It should’ve faded by now.

But it hadn’t.

I kept replaying it — Malcolm’s hand gripping me, his mouth crushing against mine like it was the only thing keeping us both alive.

It burned through me long after he left 

And God, the way he left was so abrupt, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. Like kissing me was some mistake.

I’ll admit that it was. I wasn’t even thinking when I did it. 

But if it was, why couldn’t I stop remembering the heat in his eyes? Why did my heart race at the thought of him?

I turned off the TV, but not before Daniel’s face flashed across the screen. 

Cameras capturing every perfect angle. The reporters praised him, the crowd chanted, and all I saw was a liar.

The world adored him. 

And I was stuck in the middle, suffocating under his shadow.

I thought about Malcolm again, about telling him what Daniel had said, what he was forcing me to do. But what good would that do? Malcolm looked like he was well to do, but he wasn’t a politician. He wasn’t the golden boy with the world eating out of his hand. If Daniel crushed me so easily, what chance would Malcolm have?

Still, part of me wanted to reach for him, to whisper the truth, to let someone carry this weight with me. But fear tied my tongue.

And then came the other battle.

The baby.

I pressed my palm against my flat stomach, my chest tightening. At first, I thought I could fight. Keep the baby. Endure the whispers.

But then I imagined the headlines — Pregnant Prosecutor Caught in Scandal.

The shame would destroy not just me, but everything I’d built.

I wanted to scream.

Tears stung my eyes. 

The words felt foreign in my mind. Abort my own baby.

The thought alone broke something inside me but I convinced myself it was mercy.

And by the time I grabbed my bag, by the time I stepped outside, I had convinced myself this was the only way. I’d abort the baby. Quietly. Secretly. No one had to know.

Not even Malcolm. It’d be better for everyone that way. 

I called doctor Allen and made the appointment to abort the baby with a heavy heart. I didn’t even trust myself behind a wheel with the weight of my decision slowly killing me. 

I flagged a cab.  The cab pulled up, and I slid into the backseat

I told myself it would be quick. I told myself I’d find a way to breathe again afterward.

But halfway down the street, the car stopped.

Too soon.

“Why are we stopping?” My voice cracked.

The driver didn’t answer.

The locks clicked.

And before I could scream, before I could even reach for the door, the world spun into darkness as a cloth pressed against my face.