All Chapters of The Fathers of My Child?: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

#Joel’s POV#“This is exactly why I said the second headquarters should’ve stayed in Prague,” I mutter under my breath as I sit in the boardroom, legs crossed, tie loose, and finger dragging slowly across the condensation on my whiskey glass.The room smells of expensive cologne, anxiety, and ego. Big men in big suits are talking over each other, projecting pie charts, presenting five-point strategies on glass boards as if any of that matters anymore.“Sir, if we don’t restructure the logistics operations before the end of Q3, I’m afraid—”“You’re afraid?” Mr. Giles, head of strategic planning, cuts in. His voice is already rising. “We’re past fear. We’re bleeding out. Do you have any idea what losing PetroJet meant for our regional figures? It’s been three weeks. Where’s the risk control team?”“I said it then, and I’ll say it now,” someone else mutters from the far end, probably Wallace from Legal. “We shouldn’t have committed to that infrastructure play in Cape Verde, especially wi

#Dorothy’s POV#They say a person can only take so much before breaking. But what if you already broke a long time ago and just didn’t realize it until everything else around you shattered too?This is me now. A walking bruise. A scooped-out vessel. If you crack me open, there’s nothing inside but echoes.In the span of one cursed month, my life’s gone from worse to worst. A spiral so steep I don’t even think God has the nerve to look down it. One minute I was unknowingly carrying twins, holding my belly like some miracle had finally chosen me. Next minute, I’m bleeding again. Twins. Gone. Just like that.Joel’s twins. Obviously.Rico—Rico who felt like a safe place once—turns out he was just a rest stop on this warpath I call life. That wasn’t love. I don’t even know what it was anymore. But it ended in screams, silence, and abandonment.My name’s now a stain across the internet. A smear campaign flourishing so fast you’d think I was a politician and not just… a girl who wanted to be

#Dorothy’s POV#They said “just breakfast.”Just a stupid family breakfast. With cameras.And yet, here I am, sitting in front of the mirror like I’m about to be embalmed.The maids stand around me, not really touching anything unless I ask. They just quietly move my makeup kit from one side to the other, straighten the accessories I haven’t even worn, and stand with their arms behind their backs like they’re observing a funeral prep.Because honestly, that’s what it feels like.Like I’m being pampered for a casket.I’m not even sure how I got the strength to stand, or to dress, or to draw my brows with a pencil that kept snapping, but I did. I couldn’t say no to the directive. Not under his roof.Another maid peeks in, her face tense. “Ma’am… you’re late. Very late. Sir Joel is already asking for you.”I don’t flinch. I just nod once.Not like I’m eager to see him anyway.I walk out the room, heels clicking softly against the floor. My fingers brush against the wall for support more

#Dorothy’s POV#I open my eyes but I might as well not have.There’s nothing to look at. Nothing I want to see. The white ceiling above me just hangs there. The clock ticks like it’s teasing me. And everything inside me feels so still I’m sure I died somewhere between the press lights and the hospital bed.I don’t even know how long I’ve been here.They said it was afternoon.No visitors.No calls, except Cass—who keeps trying, bless her soul. But I can’t talk to her. I can’t talk to anyone. I can’t even lift my arms.Of course Joel left.Of course he did.Probably after instructing his PA to call an ambulance and toss me in like a dying UPS package. And Rico… maybe he got another call from Paulina. Maybe he realized he’s done his quota and ran back to his real life. Who knows.Nobody’s been in here.Just machines.Beeping.Monitors.Silence.I’m tired.I’m just tired.The door clicks, and I barely react. I expect another faceless nurse to check my vitals and disappear like all the re

#Joel’s POV#Fuck myself.Yeah. That’s it. That’s all I got left in me right now. The only thing I’ve earned the right to say.I sit in this shithole bar that smells like piss, beer, and sweat-soaked lies. The stool under me squeaks every time I shift, like even it can’t stand to hold me up anymore. The bartender keeps glancing like he’s worried I’ll throw up or die. I don’t blame him. I kinda hope I do both. This place wasn’t chosen with any thought. I just… drove. Turned corners till I landed in the loudest, cheapest hole I could find where no one knew my name.And now I’m drinking. Really drinking. None of that sipping with manners or slow swirls bullshit. Just pouring it down like I can drown whatever the hell this emotion is. Guilt? Rage? Grief? Self-hate?All of it.The glass is cold in my hand. My fingers are shaking. I’ve had… five? Seven? I don’t know. I don’t care.I deserve worse.Rico was right.Every damn word he screamed at me at the clinic stuck like fucking arrows in m