Pregnant by my Ex-Boyfriend’s Father
I exhaled slowly, pressing my fingers into my temples.
See your doctor soon.
The thought landed heavier than it should have.
The work phone beeped.
Once. Sharp. Controlled.
I straightened immediately.
“Yes,” I said.
“Your meeting with the private investigator is in five minutes,” my chief of staff said. “He’s confirmed.”
“Good,” I replied. “I’m on my way.”
The line disconnected.
Joe Jones.
The name still annoyed me.
Too ordinary. Too forgettable. The kind of name that slipped through cracks and reappeared where it mattered. I had been told, repeatedly, that he was the best in the city. Not flashy. Not loud. Just thorough.