Chapter 6: A Hard Decision

Why do you care? I asked, my brown eyes searching his steel-blue ones. You are Richard Jones; you have a merger, an engagement, a life while I'm a scandal waiting to happen, don't you get? We don't belong to the same circle.

"You know what Oma, I actually care, because for the first time in twenty-eight years, I met someone looked at me and didn't see a bank account," Richard said. "And because I don't believe in coincidences. I found you again for a reason."

I was deeply touched by this gesture within me but I still tried to put up a fight due to feeling of shame, a sob escaped my throat as I reflected again on what my life has become. My father threw me out Richard. He said I was a disgrace. I came here to start over to cut off from everyone and struggle for survival, to be a lawyer like you, but... I'm just a girl in a basement now.

Richard reached out, and this time he didn't hesitate. He took my hand in his with a warm skin and a steady grip. "You are not a disgrace Oma, and you are definitely not going back to the basement." He stated.

An hour later, Richard was signing the discharge papers. He had already made a call to his close friend Ned.

"Ned, have the guest suite at my penthouse prepared. Fresh linens, high-protein groceries, and get a stylist to drop off some comfortable clothes; simple, soft clothes and nothing corporate." he demanded.

"Richie," Ned said, leaning against the hospital’s granite pillar. "You need to think seriously about this, Nora is already suspicious and your father is monitoring your every move. Bringing a pregnant waitress into your home is like throwing a grenade into a glass house, the result will not be pleasant for either party."

Richard turned to his friend, his jaw set in the "pointed jawline" the tabloids loved to photograph. "Then let the glass break, Ned. I’ve spent my life being the perfect son and I’m done. She’s alone, she’s carrying a child, and she happens to be the only person who has made me feel alive in a decade. I’m not letting her go."

As Richard walked back to Oma’s hospital room to help her into the wheelchair, he felt a strange sense of peace. He knew the war was coming, that Nora and his father would do anything and everything to destroy him. But as he looked at Oma's fragile  but fierce figure,  a weak girl who has fought to survive a new city on her own, he realized she was the strongest person he had ever met.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

I looked at him, my heart fluttering with a mix feelings of fear and hope. Where are we going? I whispered.

"Home," Richard said.

He didn't say my home. He said home. And as he wheeled me out toward the waiting car, I felt the first true warmth of a Californian summer; we were both completely unaware that the storm of the Hayes family was already gathering on the horizon.

When the private elevator chimed and the doors opened directly into the living room, I froze. I felt so small, my thrift-store sneakers leaving faint marks on the polished white floors.

"This is too much" I whispered but my voice reverberated in the vast space.

Richard noticing my reaction said, "It’s just a house, Oma,” and stepping behind me, he gently took the small backpack that contained all my worldly possessions of the moment. “And for now” he continued, “it’s your safe space; no one comes in here without my permission. Not the press, not my parents, and certainly not your 'friends' from Oakhaven, otherwise the person will have me to deal with."

He led me to the guest suite. It was a room draped in shades of cream and seafoam green, with a bed that looked like a marshmallow and floor-to-ceiling windows. On the table sat a row of high-end prenatal vitamins, organic skincare products, and a stack of new, soft cashmere house wears.

"I asked Ned to handle the basics," Richard said, looking slightly awkward. "I didn't know your size, so he guessed; I hope you don’t mind

?”

I turned to him, my eyes glassy. "Why are you doing this, Richard? You barely know me. In your world, people don't do things for free. So what’s the catch?" I asked looking directly at him.

Richard walked toward me, stopping just a foot away. The "Ice Prince" persona had completely liquefied and was replaced by something raw and searching.

 "The catch is that I’m selfish, Oma. My life has been a series of choreographed moves. It has always been corporate meetings, mergers, closing contract deals, Nora, and the likes… it’s all fake. But with you, the world feels real. I’m not protecting you because I am obliged to do so. Instead, I am doing it because, for the first time, I want to. So please allow me."

I felt a flutter in my chest, not the baby, but a spark of something I hadn’t felt in a long time, it was hope that after all, there may be light at the end of the tunnel.

The next two weeks were a strange, beautiful domesticity and me trying to adjust to a new life outside my home, diner and the shelter.

Richard, a man who usually worked eighteen-hour days, began coming home at five. He traded his stiff blazers for sweaters. He sat with me on the terrace, watching the sunset, as I told him about my dreams of being a lawyer, not for the money, but to protect people who would not be able to protect themselves.

"You have the mind for it," Richard told me one evening, his eyes following the way I was able to analyse a complex legal case he had described. "You don't just see the law, you see the justice behind it. When the baby is born, I’ll get you the best tutors. You’ll have your degree and fulfill your dreams, I promise."

I’d like that, I would really want my child to know her mother didn't give up. I said excitedly with a genuinely smile. "I am glad you believe in me."

He lifted my hand and kissed it

“I do” he said.