Consequences

Chapter 6

Zara’s POV

I stared at the email until the words blurred together, my hands shaking so violently I nearly dropped my phone. Someone had set me up. Someone had deliberately destroyed my job, my reputation, my only source of income.

But who could hate me enough to—

My phone buzzed with a text message.

“MISSING YOUR JOB YET? - R”

Then another.

“HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR LITTLE STUNT WITH THE KNIFE. CONSIDER THIS PAYBACK. GOODLUCK FINDING A NEW JOB NOW WITH THEFT ON YOUR RECORD.“

Robert. That vindictive piece of shit had somehow orchestrated this whole thing.

The sobs came without warning, ugly and raw and desperate. I pressed my face against the steering wheel, my entire body shaking with the force of my breakdown. How could one person be so cruel?

"Zara?" Green's voice came through the passenger window. She must have heard me crying from inside. "What happened? What's wrong?"

I couldn't form words, could only hand her my phone with the damning email still open on the screen.

Green's face went through a series of emotions—confusion, shock, then pure rage. "This is bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. You've never stolen anything in your life."

"Robert did it," I managed between sobs. "He... he texted me. It was revenge for stabbing him and finally leaving him,probably."

"That motherfucker." Green's hands clenched into fists. "I'm calling the police. This is harassment, defamation—"

"No." I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "It won't change anything. Lucious already believes I'm a thief. My reputation is shot."

"Then I'm going over there and—"

"And what? Beat him up? You'll just end up in jail. Please, Green. Just... let it go."

My phone started ringing. Josh's name flashed across the screen.

I hit decline.

It rang again immediately.

"Just answer it," Green said. "Maybe it'll distract you from this nightmare."

"What do you want?" I snapped when I finally picked up.

"Whoa, hey, slow down there," Josh's voice was calm, soothing. "What's wrong? You sound upset."

"Upset doesn't begin to cover it." Fresh tears threatened to spill over. "My life is officially over."

"Talk to me. What happened?"

Against my better judgment, I found myself telling him about the email, about Robert's confession, about losing my job and having my name dragged through the mud.

"That bastard," Josh said quietly. "Zara, I'm so sorry. This is completely fucked up."

"Sorry doesn't pay my bills or get my job back."

"No, but there are other ways to fix this." His voice grew thoughtful. "Listen, can you meet me tomorrow morning? 10 AM at Cornerstone Coffee on Maple Street?"

"Josh, I'm not really in the mood for—"

"Trust me on this. I have something that might help. A surprise."

"I don't like surprises."

"You'll like this one. Please, Zara. Just meet me there."

Something in his voice made me agree, even though the last thing I wanted was to be around anyone, especially someone who'd seen me at my most vulnerable.

Cornerstone Coffee was one of those trendy places with exposed brick walls and baristas who looked like they belonged in indie films. Josh was already there when I arrived, sitting at a table by the window with two coffee cups in front of him.

"You look tired," he said as I sat down.

"I didn't sleep much." I took a sip of the coffee—perfect, as usual. "So what's this surprise that's supposed to fix my life?"

Josh slid a folder across the table. "Open it."

Inside was a job offer letter on expensive letterhead: Sterling & Associates Consulting Firm. My name was already typed in the salary field, and the number made my eyes widen.

"You're offering me a job?"

"Administrative coordinator. You'd be working directly with me on client accounts, managing schedules, handling correspondence. It's entry-level, but the pay is good and there's room for advancement."

I stared at the letter, hardly daring to believe it. "Josh, I can't accept this."

"Why not?"

"Because we slept together! Because you barely know me! Because this feels like charity!"

"It's not charity." His voice was firm. "I need someone reliable, someone smart, someone who can handle pressure. You've been managing a household and working full-time for five years. You can handle anything I throw at you."

"But—"

"Zara, I saw your resume when I went through your purse looking for emergency contacts." He held up a hand when I started to protest. "I needed to make sure you were okay, and I found your old job applications. You graduated summa cum laude with a business degree. You're overqualified for some account manager role at Murphy’s."

I looked down at the offer letter again. The salary was more than double what I'd been making at the diner.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you deserve better. Because someone should invest in you the way you've been investing in everyone else."

I thought about my options. I could keep looking for other jobs with a theft accusation hanging over my head, or I could take a chance on something better. Something that might actually lead somewhere.

"When would I start?"

Josh smiled. "Monday, if you're interested."

A week later, I was settling into my new life at Sterling & Associates. The office was sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows and expensive artwork on the walls. My desk was in Josh's outer office, close enough that we could collaborate easily but professional enough that no one would suspect our complicated history.

"Good morning, sunshine," Josh said as I hung up my jacket. "Ready for the Peterson presentation?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." I'd spent the weekend studying their account, determined to prove I belonged here. "I have all the files organized and the conference room booked for ten."

"What would I do without you?"

"Probably forget half your appointments and double-book your lunch meetings."

"Probably." He grinned and headed into his office. "Coffee in five minutes?"

"Make it ten. I need to finish these reports."

The banter felt natural now, comfortable. We'd fallen into an easy rhythm of working together, and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the challenge of the job. For the first time in years, I felt like I was using my brain for something meaningful.

"Zara," Josh appeared in my doorway an hour later. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"For what?"

"For taking a chance on this. On the job, on me. I know it wasn't easy."

I looked up from my computer, meeting his eyes. "Thank you for seeing something in me that I didn't see in myself."

"I see a lot of things in you, Zara Morrison." His voice dropped to that low, intimate tone that made my stomach flutter. "Most of them probably inappropriate for office hours."

"Josh—"

"Dinner tonight? To celebrate your first successful week?"

"That sounds dangerously close to a date."

"Would that be such a terrible thing?"

Before I could answer, a wave of nausea hit me like a freight train. The room spun, and I gripped the edge of my desk.

"Zara? What's wrong?"

"I don't know." The nausea intensified, accompanied by a strange metallic taste in my mouth. "I feel sick."

I barely made it to the bathroom before I was retching into the toilet, my body betraying me in the most humiliating way possible. Josh appeared behind me, holding my hair back as I emptied my stomach.

"We're getting you home," he said firmly. "You're in no condition to work."

The drive to Green's apartment passed in a haze of exhaustion and lingering nausea. Josh kept asking if I wanted to go to the hospital, but I insisted I was fine. Probably just stress or something I ate.

Green took one look at me and immediately went into mother-hen mode.

"You look like death warmed over," she said, feeling my forehead. "When did this start?"

"Just now at work. I felt fine this morning, then suddenly..." I curled up on her couch, pulling a blanket over my head.

"Have you been eating regularly? Sleeping enough?"

"Yes, Mom," I mumbled. "I'm probably just stressed. It's been a hell of a week."

Green was quiet for a moment, then: "Zara, when was your last period?"

The question hit me like a slap. I tried to remember, counting backward from today.

"I don't know. Maybe... three weeks ago? Four?" My blood ran cold as I did the math. "Oh God. Green, no."

"When exactly did you sleep with Josh?"

"Umm…a few weeks ago." My voice came out as a whisper. "But we used protection. I think. I was drunk, but I'm sure we—"

"Honey, protection isn't one hundred percent effective."

I stared at her, my mind reeling. Pregnant. I could be pregnant. With a stranger's baby.

"This can't be happening," I said, panic rising in my throat. "This cannot be fucking happening to me right now."

"We need to get a test," Green said gently. "We need to know for sure."

"What if I am?" The words came out strangled. "What if I'm pregnant with Josh's baby? I just started working for him. I'm living in your spare room. I have nothing, Green. How could I possibly—"

"Hey." Green sat beside me, pulling me into her arms. "One thing at a time. First, we find out if you're actually pregnant. Then we figure out the rest."

"I can't be pregnant. Please, God, let this just be stress or food poisoning or anything else."

But even as I said it, I knew. Deep in my bones, I knew.

My life had just gotten infinitely more complicated.