Chapter 23: The Office Trap

The door to Gabriel's office clicked shut behind us.

He dropped his briefcase on the desk harder than necessary, the sound echoing off the glass walls. He wanted control. He needed it. But Emily was already in here, invading the air, her perfume lingering, her presence pushing into every corner.

Emily placed the folder she’d been holding on the edge of my desk like it was an offering. “I thought you should see everything yourself. No middlemen. No whispers.”

He didn’t reach for it. Not yet.

Instead, he rounded the desk, sat down, and forced himself to lean back in the chair, casual, even though his pulse was a drum in his ears. “You’ve already shown me these papers. Why should I believe this stack is any different?”

Her lips trembled as if I’d struck her. “Because it’s the truth.”

God, she was good. Too good.

She eased the folder open, sliding a set of glossy images toward him—new sonograms, her name in bold letters at the top. His chest tightened.

He forced himself to study her face instead of the papers. She wasn’t pleading this time. No, this was something else. Calculation hidden behind softness.

She tilted her head, her voice low. “You don’t have to take my word. Call the clinic. Ask for Dr. Morales. He’ll tell you himself.”

A doctor’s name. A clinic. Specifics. His stomach twisted because it sounded real. Too real.

He picked up one of the papers, scanning it. The words blurred. He wanted to tear it apart, shred it to pieces, but his hand wouldn’t move.

“Why now?” His voice came out rough. “Why didn’t you come to me before? Why wait until—”. He stopped himself. Until after the crash. After I forgot.

Her eyes softened, her hand brushing over her stomach. “Because I thought… maybe you’d come back to me without this. That you’d remember what we had. But she’s poisoned you, Gabriel. She’s turned you against me. And now, I don’t have the luxury of silence.”

Her words slithered under his skin.

Poisoned me.

Turned me.

The doubt he’d been fighting all morning surged up again.

He set the paper down with deliberate slowness, his expression blank. “Leave them.”

Emily blinked, startled. “Gabriel—”

“I said leave them.” His voice cracked like a whip.

She nodded quickly, collecting herself. But then she leaned closer, her perfume flooding the space, her whisper hot against the air. “I don’t care how long it takes. I know you’ll remember. Us. And when you do… you’ll see I’m the only one who’s ever truly been yours.”

She straightened, smoothing her blouse, and walked to the door.

“Take your time,” she said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The door shut behind her, the silence louder than before.

He stared at the papers.

At the sonogram.

At the doctor’s name.

And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if I was the one he couldn’t trust…

Or himself.

—

I gripped my coffee cup so hard the paper crumpled. The café smelt of burnt espresso and sugar syrup, but none of it cut through the acid boiling in my chest.

Across from me, Sebastian stirred his drink like he was conducting surgery—slow, precise, maddeningly calm.

“Say it again,” he said finally, eyes sharp on mine.

I leaned in, my voice a hiss. “She showed him new sonograms. A doctor’s name. A clinic. Gabriel’s cracking, Seb. He doesn’t believe her… but he doesn’t believe me either.”

He sat back, rubbing his jaw. For once, his easy charm was gone. “So she’s escalating. Pulling in third parties to make it airtight.”

“She’s playing him like a damn violin,” I spat. “And he’s listening.”

Sebastian studied me for a long moment, then nodded once. “Fine. Let’s pull the string.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dr. Morales,” he said smoothly. “The clinic. The documents. We verify it all. If she faked it, I’ll find the cracks. If she bought people off, I’ll find the payments. If she forged the records—”. He leaned closer, his voice a blade. “I’ll burn her lie down to ash.”

My chest tightened, relief tangled with fear. Because Sebastian wasn’t bluffing. When he made promises like that, people got destroyed.

“What if it’s real?” The question clawed out of me before I could stop it.

Sebastian froze mid-sip. Then, slowly, he set the cup down. “Eve. Look at me.”

I forced my eyes up to his.

“She’s lying.” His tone was steady, absolute. “I’ve seen women like her before. Ambition wrapped in silk. They’ll bleed a man dry if he lets them. You want proof? Fine. But don’t you dare start doubting yourself.”

I swallowed hard. His words steadied me, but the fear lingered anyway.

What if this time, Emily wasn’t bluffing?

Sebastian slid his phone out, already typing. “I’ll have someone on that doctor within the hour. If he’s real, we’ll know. If he’s not—” His smile curved, sharp and cold. “We’ll know faster.”

I sat back, trembling.

For the first time since Emily’s campaign began, I had someone in the trenches with me. But the deeper Sebastian dug, the closer we were to something I wasn’t sure I was ready for:

The truth.

—

The office was quiet, the kind of quiet that made every second stretch like an eternity.

The folder sat on my desk, mocking him. Papers neat, clinical, official. Too neat. Too official.

He stared at the sonogram again. A cluster of shadows, lines, and numbers. His child? Her child? Or a fabrication so flawless it would take a forensic eye to rip apart?

His phone lay next to it, the doctor’s name written in her careful script. Dr. Morales.

He dragged a hand down his face. My voice battled with Emily’s in his head.

“She’s lying, Gabriel. She’s destroying us.”

“I don’t care how long it takes. You’ll remember us.”

Both voices twisted around him until he couldn’t breathe.

Finally, he snatched up the phone and punched in the number. His thumb hovered over the green button.

One call. One voice on the other end could end this torment. Confirm everything. Or destroy everything.

His hand shook.

Because if the doctor said yes… then Emily wasn’t lying. And he would have to live with the reality that, before the crash, he had betrayed me in the worst possible way—and left a child tangled in the wreckage.

But if the doctor said no… then Emily wasn’t just manipulative. She was ruthless. Dangerous. Capable of forging a life to ruin one.

Either truth would gut me.

He dropped the phone back onto the desk with a crack. His chest heaved, his throat raw.

He wasn’t ready for that answer. Not yet.

Instead, he shoved the folder into the locked drawer of his desk, as if burying it would bury the questions clawing at him.

But the questions didn’t die. They whispered. Louder. Sharper. Until the only thing he knew for certain was that whatever Emily had started…

It was far from over.