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CHAPTER 38: WITNESS

Author: Zieey
last update publish date: 2026-05-16 00:03:48

Victor had decided to make my personal relationship with Sebastian public. He had just made the worst decision of his very long career of bad decisions.

I let the silence drag for two seconds after his question. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to crawl up my throat.

‘Okay. Okay. You can do this. Just… just breathe.’ I said to myself. I gripped the folder tighter under the table, praying no one could see my fingers shaking.

Then I opened it. “Thank you for raising that,
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    He said he was proud of me, and something inside my chest cracked open. I cried in the bathroom for two straight minutes—silent, shoulders shaking, the kind of tears that come from a place you’ve kept locked for years. Then I splashed water on my face, stared at the stranger in the mirror with red-rimmed eyes, and walked back out like nothing had happened. He didn’t need to know. He already did.He had made tea while I was gone. Moved through my kitchen with that quiet confidence, like the space had quietly become his too.He found the cups without asking, and knew exactly where the tea bags lived. When I stepped back in, he looked up and read my face the way he always did, seeing everything I tried to hide. He handed me the cup without a word about the redness around my eyes. That was the right thing. We both knew it.We talked for another hour about smaller things. A supplier issue I’d been juggling. The board meeting he’d chaired where three grown men had wasted forty-five minute

  • PREGNANT BY THE CEO   CHAPTER 69- I KNOW

    Sixteen years of everything, and it came down to a sixteen-year-old girl deciding who she was in two words. I had never been more proud of her.Saturday's dinner was exactly what he said it would be.A restaurant I had never been to — his choice.It was good. Warm and unhurried, somewhere that felt chosen rather than convenient. He wore a jacket. He stood when I arrived.He always did that.I had stopped pretending I didn't notice.We talked for three hours straight, and for the first time in longer than I could track, none of it was about the year. Not Victor, not Diana, not legal proceedings or the accumulated wreckage of everything that had come before. We talked about his plans for the company now that it was genuinely his. About a book I had read and what I thought of the ending. About a film argument Isla had apparently been conducting with him by text for four days and showed no intention of dropping."She's winning," I said."Not yet." He said it with particular confidence. "

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    I drove home and found Sebastian at my kitchen table helping Isla with something and I thought: yes. That's exactly what it is.He was genuinely confused by the textbook. Isla was explaining something for the second time with the patient precision she reserved for things she thought deserved real effort, and he was frowning at the page like it had personally offended him."You're doing the second step before the first," she said."Show me again," he said.She showed him. He got it wrong again. She stared at him."You're doing that on purpose.""I absolutely am not." Pure innocence. Completely false."Sebastian.""It's a genuinely difficult problem.""It's not, though.""For some of us," he said — and she laughed. Fast, unguarded and real, the kind that escaped before she could decide whether to let it, the kind I had spent sixteen years being the only person who could reliably produce.I stayed in the doorway with my coat still on and let the moment be what it was.Sixteen years witho

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    “It's a start.” Those two words carried everything I still couldn’t say aloud. He knew it, and I knew he knew it. And for now, we were both okay with the weight of what remained unspoken.He answered with a single word: “Good.”No pressure or rush to turn the start into something bigger before it was ready. Just “good”, spoken in that quiet, certain way of his that needed nothing more.I set my phone down and made breakfast, my hands steadier than they had any right to be.Things didn’t leap forward in grand declarations. They built, quietly, in small accumulations that felt dangerously real.Tuesday dinners became a rhythm. Not planned, not labeled—just something that kept happening because one of us would suggest it and the other would say yes. By the third week, Isla no longer treated his arrival like an occasion. She treated it like a Tuesday. When that shift settled in, I had to pause at the kitchen counter, gripping the edge for a second while something tight and hopeful twis

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    Sebastian moved across the room toward me with clear purpose, like a man who had already decided exactly whose side he was on and was ready to stand there no matter what happened next.He reached me without any rush. That was how Sebastian always moved through a space—he never performed urgency or drama. He walked with the steady confidence of someone who knew where he wanted to be, and the room seemed to shift around him instead of the other way around. When he stopped beside me at the edge of the gala, he first looked over at Victor for a long moment, then turned his eyes to me."Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and genuine."Yes," I said, and this time I truly meant it. Not the careful, managed answer I usually gave, but the real one. I was standing in a room I built from nothing, and Victor Hale was there on the edge of it, looking smaller and more diminished than I had ever seen him before. He tried to stop all of this from happening, but here it was—more complete an

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    Victor Hale had been writing to my mother for years. I drove to the house telling myself I was ready for it. I wasn’t, not even a bit. The house smelled exactly the same.The second I stepped inside, that familiar scent hit me hard. Warm, safe, like childhood and Sunday dinners and my mother’s perf

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    He’d carried a photograph of us for sixteen years. I’d spent those same years trying like hell to stop carrying him. Only one of us had managed it, and it sure as hell wasn’t him.I picked it up and stared longer than I meant to. No memory of the moment. Just us, caught laughing by whoever snapped

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    My daughter was done being my secret. And sitting there across from her at our kitchen table, I finally admitted I was done too. I looked into those steady grey eyes and felt sixteen years of half-truths sitting heavy in my chest. All the edited stories. The quick subject changes, the version of o

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    Diana Hale wanted a chance from me. I’d learned a long time ago that wanting something and actually deserving it were two very different things. I stayed professional through the rest of the luncheon. I made polite conversation with the women around me, asked real questions about the charity, and

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