Chapter Four: My child?

LIAM

I looked up from my quarterly reports to find a young woman standing in my office doorway. She was nervous, I could tell by the way she clutched her cheap purse and the slight tremor in her hands. Another candidate for the assistant position, no doubt.

But something about her made me pause.

I set down my pen and really looked at her. She was beautiful, but not in the polished way of the women I usually encountered. Her beauty was raw, natural. Dark hair that caught the light, eyes the color of warm honey, and a face that seemed... familiar.

"You seem familiar," I said, my voice cool and measured. "Have we met before?"

The question hung in the air between us. For a moment, something flickered across her face, pain, maybe, or recognition. But then it was gone, replaced by a professional mask.

"I don't think so, Mr. Blackwood," she said, her voice steady despite the nervousness I could see in her posture. "I'm Ava Parker. I'm here for the executive assistant position."

Ava Parker. The name meant nothing to me, but that nagging feeling of recognition wouldn't leave. I gestured to the chair across from my desk.

"Please, sit."

She moved with careful grace, settling into the leather chair like she was afraid it might break. Everything about her screamed financial hardship, the discount blazer, the worn shoes, the way she held herself like she was trying to take up as little space as possible.

"Tell me about your experience," I said, leaning back in my chair.

She straightened her shoulders, and I caught a glimpse of steel beneath the nervousness. "I've worked in various customer service positions. I'm organized, detail-oriented, and I learn quickly. I know my resume might not be impressive, but I'm willing to work harder than anyone else you'll interview."

There was something in her voice, desperation masked as determination. It intrigued me.

"Why should I hire you over someone with more experience?"

"Because you won't find anyone who needs this job more than I do," she said, and for a moment, her professional mask slipped. "I'll be the first one here in the morning and the last one to leave. I'll anticipate your needs before you know them yourself. I'll make your life easier, Mr. Blackwood, because failing isn't an option for me."

The raw honesty in her words hit me unexpectedly. In my world, people usually told me what they thought I wanted to hear. This girl, woman, was telling me the truth.

"The position requires long hours, travel, and complete discretion. My last assistant quit because she said the job consumed her life."

"I don't have a life to consume," she said simply. "This job would be my life."

I studied her for a long moment. There was something magnetic about her, something that pulled at me in a way I couldn't explain. Against my better judgment, I found myself saying, "The job is yours."

Her eyes widened in shock. "I... what?"

"You start Monday. Eight AM sharp. My current assistant will train you for the rest of the week before she leaves."

"Mr. Blackwood, I... Thank you. You won't regret this."

"See that I don't." I stood, signaling the end of the interview. "Ms. Parker? Don't make me look like a fool."

She stood quickly, clutching her purse. "Never, sir."

After she left, I found myself staring at the door, wondering what the hell I'd just done. I'd hired her on impulse, something I never did. But there was something about Ava Parker that I couldn't shake.

The next few days, I watched her work. She was everything she'd promised, early, efficient, anticipating my needs with an almost uncanny ability. She made my coffee exactly how I liked it without being told, scheduled my meetings with perfect timing, and handled difficult clients with a grace that surprised me.

But she was also guarded. She never mentioned her personal life, never took personal calls, never let her professional mask slip. It was like she was hiding something.

On Thursday, I was reviewing contracts when I heard her on the phone in the outer office.

"No, Mrs. Chen, I can't come home early. I know he's fussy, but I need this job." Her voice was strained, worried. "Just give him the bottle. I'll be there as soon as I can."

A child. She had a child.

I felt a strange tightness in my chest. The desperation in her voice when she'd interviewed suddenly made sense. She wasn't just working for herself, she was working for her child.

"Everything alright, Ms. Parker?" I asked when she hung up.

She spun around, her face flushing. "Yes, sir. Just... a personal matter."

"If you need to leave.."

"No," she said quickly. "I'm fine. Is there anything you need?"

I let it go, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. The next day, I was walking past her desk when I saw it, a photo tucked discreetly beside her computer. A baby, maybe a year old, with dark hair and what looked like light eyes.

"Your son?" I asked, nodding toward the picture.

She tensed, her hand moving protectively toward the photo. "Yes. Eli."

"He's beautiful."

"Thank you." She turned the photo face down, as if hiding it from me. "I'm sorry, I know personal items aren't professional.."

"It's fine," I said, but something about her reaction bothered me. The way she'd hidden the photo, the fear in her eyes. "How old is he?"

"Almost two." Her voice was barely a whisper.

Two years old. Something clicked in my mind, a memory trying to surface. Two years ago... What had I been doing two years ago?

"Where's his father?" I asked, and immediately regretted it when I saw her face go pale.

"He's not... he's not in our lives." She straightened her shoulders. "It's just me and Eli."

The conversation stayed with me all weekend. There was something about that little boy's photo that nagged at me. The shape of his face, maybe, or the way he'd been looking at the camera with such serious eyes.

Monday morning, I called Marcus into my office. He has been my head of security for five years, and there wasn't anything he couldn't find out about anyone.

"I need you to run a background check on my assistant," I said without preamble.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Ava Parker? Any particular reason?"

"Call it intuition. I want to know everything, where she's been, what she's done, who she's been with. Everything."

"Consider it done."

Three days later, Marcus walked into my office with a thick file and an expression I'd never seen before.

"Sir," he said, setting the file on my desk. "You're going to want to sit down for this."

I remained standing. "What did you find?"

He opened the file, pulling out a photograph. It was a clearer picture of Ava's son, taken from what looked like a medical record. The child was staring directly at the camera with eyes that were unmistakably familiar.

Gray eyes. Storm-cloud gray.

My eyes.

"Sir," Marcus said quietly, "that child is yours.”