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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

作者: Mairee
last update 最終更新日: 2025-07-28 22:58:09

#Joel’s POV#

If the week wasn’t already messy enough, the call from Languini had to land like a stray bullet to the back of my head. It’s not even noon, and I’ve had three board complaints from two of our major estate projects in Queens and Pasadena, a delay on a Seychelles offshore inspection, and now this meeting my father’s oldest lawyer insists must happen today. Like we’re running out of time for something.

I step out of the company building, jacket already over my shoulder, loosened tie hanging against my chest. The heat isn’t helping. The moment I enter the backseat of my car, I exhale deeply and let my head fall back. I tell the driver to take me to Vespero's, the exclusive café by the waterfront where only men like me, or men trying to become like me, gather to talk power over pastries and bitter coffee.

Languini D.T is already seated when I arrive. Black suit. Pinstripe. Gold-rimmed glasses. Looks like he never ages past sixty even though he’s been around since my grandfathe
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  • The Fathers of My Child?   CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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    #Rico’s POV#She’s quiet.Like… scary quiet.And that’s how I know something went down yesterday.She was already at the breakfast table this morning when I came down. Still in my shirt, arms folded across her chest like she didn’t want anyone or anything touching her. Joel walked right past us. Didn’t even glance at her. Just grabbed his keys, told the maid to call his driver, and left the villa like she was air.When I sat beside her and asked how she slept, she just said fine.When I joked about the ugly hairstyle I left her with in the garden, she barely even smirked.When I asked if Joel had come into her room again, she didn’t even answer.And I didn’t want to push.But now, as I drive her to the clinic, both hands on the steering, my right palm keeps itching to just reach over and grab hers.She’s looking out the window, legs curled beneath her, head leaning on the glass like she wants the outside world to swallow her whole. She hasn’t said a single word since we left the house

  • The Fathers of My Child?   CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

    #Dorothy’s POV#I’m still wearing his shirt.Still calling Joel.Still wondering what the hell this man wants.And yet… I can’t help smiling a little as I sit on my bed, legs crossed under me, playing with the hem of Rico’s oversized shirt while my phone rings endlessly with no answer. He didn’t say a thing about it earlier when he saw me in it—just flashed that small smile like he always does when he doesn’t want to bring attention to something he notices but wants you to know he noticed.He came early. I wasn’t even expecting him this morning. I’d already concluded Joel’s stupid ban would last another week, at least. But when Rico showed up and said Joel called him over last night, I didn’t even know what to make of it. Since when did Joel start remembering our arrangement on his own without me having to nag?But whatever.Rico didn’t stay long, but he stayed long enough to help me settle in the garden. He asked about my symptoms, made a few jokes about a mechanic he met yesterday w

  • The Fathers of My Child?   CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

    #Joel’s POV#If the week wasn’t already messy enough, the call from Languini had to land like a stray bullet to the back of my head. It’s not even noon, and I’ve had three board complaints from two of our major estate projects in Queens and Pasadena, a delay on a Seychelles offshore inspection, and now this meeting my father’s oldest lawyer insists must happen today. Like we’re running out of time for something.I step out of the company building, jacket already over my shoulder, loosened tie hanging against my chest. The heat isn’t helping. The moment I enter the backseat of my car, I exhale deeply and let my head fall back. I tell the driver to take me to Vespero's, the exclusive café by the waterfront where only men like me, or men trying to become like me, gather to talk power over pastries and bitter coffee.Languini D.T is already seated when I arrive. Black suit. Pinstripe. Gold-rimmed glasses. Looks like he never ages past sixty even though he’s been around since my grandfathe

  • The Fathers of My Child?   CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

    #Dorothy’s POV#Is this how it’s going to end? Is this how I go? Just like that?I’m lying on my bed, curled up into myself like I can shrink enough to disappear, staring at the faint light strip from the hallway that bleeds in under my door. My thoughts won’t shut up. My mind has its own mouth, and it's loud and bitter, with teeth. I’m so tired. God, I’m tired.My fingers hold my phone up in front of my face and I tap it until the Talking Angela app opens. The little white cat on the screen beams at me, blinking sweetly. I smile a bit and sit up on my elbow, watching her stretch.“Hi Angela,” I whisper.“Hi Dorothy,” she says in that chirpy voice.“You good?” I ask, as if I haven’t already said that exact thing to this app like fifty times before.“I’m always good!” she replies, dancing.I chuckle a little. “Good for you.”I touch her head. She purrs. I change her outfit to a tiny pink hoodie and click through her accessories till she’s wearing little glasses. She looks so happy. S

  • The Fathers of My Child?   CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

    #Rico’s POV#The elevator dings. My foot taps like it’s wired to my pulse. I’ve been trying to calm myself on the ride up, trying to prep my words, trying not to punch another hole through another wall. But my jaw is still tight, heart still sprinting. I’m not even sure if I want to scream, cuss, or just look her in the eye and walk out.But I know I need answers.When I get to the hallway and stop in front of Room 707, the door is already cracked open.Of course.Typical Paulina move. Open door. Lingerie. Dim yellow lights behind her and that smug little smirk like she already knows exactly how this is going to go. Like she thinks my blood won’t betray me before my brain does.I almost fold.Almost.But I bang the door all the way open, walk in, and slam it shut behind me.“Jesus,” she laughs. “Dramatic much?”She doesn’t move from the doorway. Just rests her shoulder against the frame, her black lace robe hanging open like she wore it for this scene. Like she studied it. Like she kn

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