Chapter 5

"Clean it up, Olson! Now!" Lou’s voice was a distant bark.

I moved on autopilot, grabbing a mop, my eyes never leaving the flickering screen.

‘Gabriel Kane.’ The name tasted bitter in my mouth. I watched him on the news, cool, untouchable, and powerful.

He looked nothing like the man who had whispered in the dark about being "just a man."

On camera, he was a god of industry, and he looked like he could crush someone like me without even noticing I was under his shoe.

I worked the rest of my shift in a trance. Every time I looked at a customer, I wondered if they knew him. Every time I checked my phone, I looked at the photo of the pregnancy test I’d taken. I was having two babies. Twins at that.

I knew what I had to do. I couldn't wait for him to wander back into the diner.

He wouldn't. Men like that don't return to the scene of their "mistakes."

The next morning, I didn't go to work. I put on my best sweater, the one without the pill marks and took the train. I stood in front of the Kane Plaza, a tower of black glass.

My stomach gave a sharp, nervous twist. ‘Don't be sick now,’ I pleaded. ‘Not here.’

The lobby was silent. I walked toward the reception desk.

A woman sat there, her hair pulled back so tight it looked painful, her suit looking like it cost a year of my rent.

"I’m here to see Gabriel Kane," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

She didn't even look up from her screen. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but it’s... it’s personal. Tell him it’s Lyra. From the diner."

That got her to look up. Her eyes glanced over my cheap purse and my tired face.

A small, cruel smirk touched her lips. "Mr. Kane is in a high-level meeting. He doesn't take 'personal' visits from the public. If you’re looking for a handout, the charity office is on the fourth floor."

"It’s not a handout," I snapped, my pride flaring. "Just tell him I’m here."

She sighed, looking bored, and pressed a button on her intercom. "Security? We have a persistent visitor in the lobby. Yes, another one."

My heart sank. ‘Another one?’

"Wait," I said, stepping forward.

"Please, just—"

Before I could finish, a side door opened. My breath hitched. It wasn't Gabriel, but a man in a sharp grey suit, his assistant, the one I recognized from the car that night.

He was walking with a woman, a lawyer-type holding a stack of papers.

They didn't see me standing by the desk. They were too busy talking.

"Mr. Kane was very clear," the assistant was saying, his voice carrying in the quiet lobby.

"The 'waitress situation' from last month is handled. He’s refreshed the NDAs for all the household staff at the penthouse. He doesn't want any loose ends."

The woman with him laughed, a cold, dry sound. "He really has a thing for the commoners when he’s stressed, doesn't he? It’s a bit cliché for a man of his stature."

"It was a one-time lapse in judgment," the assistant replied, checking his watch.

"He’s moved on. He’s already back with the Sterling heiress. He told me this morning that he wants his life 'clean' again. No reminders of that week. He was disgusted with himself for even stepping foot in that part of town."

The words hit me harder than a physical blow to the stomach.

‘A one-time lapse in judgment.’

‘Disgusted with himself.’

‘Clean.’

I felt the blood drain from my face. I wasn't a person to him. I was a "situation." I was a "loose end" that needed to be swept away like the crumbs on his tables.

He didn't just leave the bed because he was busy; he left because he was ashamed of me.

I thought about the way he had looked at me in the diner. I thought about the way he had held me. It had all been an act. A rich man playing house with a poor girl because his divorce had made him feel lonely.

"Miss? Security is here," the receptionist said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

I looked over and saw two large men in uniforms approaching. They looked like they were ready to haul me out like trash.

"I’m leaving," I said, my voice cracking.

I turned and ran. I didn't stop until I was three blocks away, tucked into a dark alleyway where the smell of trash reminded me of exactly where I belonged.

I leaned against the wall and sobbed, not just for the parents I’d lost, or the sister who hated me, but for the tiny lives inside me.

He didn't want us. He viewed our existence as a "stain" on his perfect, billionaire life.

He was "disgusted" by the very thought of the night that had changed my world forever.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, the grief turning into something harder. Something sharper.

I thought about Katherine’s tuition. I thought about the two pink lines.

"Fine," I whispered to the empty alley.

"You want your life clean, Gabriel Kane? You want no reminders?"

I placed a hand over my stomach. The fear was gone, replaced by a cold, burning rage.

"You’ll get exactly what you want. You’ll never see us. You’ll never know. I’d rather starve on the street than let my child be a 'lapse in judgment' for a man like you."

I walked back toward the train station, my head held high. I didn't have the money. I didn't have a plan.

But I had the truth.

I was Lyra Olson. I was a waitress. I was a sister. And now, I was a mother.

Gabriel Kane owned the skyline, but he didn't own me.

And as the train pulled away from the black glass tower, I made a silent vow: I would raise these babies alone.

I would work three jobs if I had to. I would disappear so deeply into the shadows of the city that he’d never find a trace of us.