The Child I Carry Is Not Your Heir Chapter 02

The Child I Carry Is Not Your Heir Chapter 02

“Don’t worry about me, Mom. Your daughter’s not reckless. I’m heading off to work.”

I grabbed my handbag and headed toward the garage.

Beside the trash bin sat a cardboard crate stuffed full of my belongings—small trinkets I’d once left inside Jay’s vehicle over the years.

Back when I chased him relentlessly, I’d hopped rides with him constantly, clinging to our childhood bond.

On frigid winter nights, I’d brought my thick coat over to ward off his chill after nights of heavy drinking.

A tiny cross pendant I’d gotten after praying for his safety at church rested inside the box too.

A compact first-aid kit I’d carefully assembled to nurse him through colds and fevers filled another corner.

The leftover clutter consisted of stray lipsticks and false eyelashes I’d accidentally left behind on our outings together.

If I meant nothing to him, all these mementos were worthless trash in his eyes.

I glanced toward his parked car. Through the passenger window, I spotted the newly customized seat decked out for someone else.

Pastel pink seat cushions lined the space, fluffy plush toys hung from the headrest, and a miniature plastic steering wheel sticker decorated the dashboard.

All these thoughtful upgrades were tailored for his new partner.

Once upon a time, tossing out any small ornament I’d placed in his car had been his immediate reaction.

He’d snapped at me without hesitation. “If I leave silly decor like this lying around, people will assume I’m taken.”

Now that he had a girlfriend, he’d happily decked out his whole car in cute accessories.

My throat burned with quiet heartache. This was what exclusive affection from him looked like.

I’d barely settled into my office when my best friend Chloe bombarded my phone with an urgent call.

“Grace! Word’s out—Jay’s officially getting engaged!”

The news barely rattled me anymore.

“I just found out myself.”

“Did you check his Instagram? We’re all stunned! The guy never posts a single update, and he dropped five full nine-photo carousel posts back-to-back! Everyone assumed you’d be the bride, but turns out it’s someone else entirely…”

I cut her off before she could ramble further. “Want to hear something far more shocking?”

Chloe perked up instantly. “What is it?”

Warm fondness softened my eyes. “I’m pregnant. You’re gonna be the baby’s godmother.”

I snapped a photo of my pregnancy paperwork and sent it over. She nearly cried from pure excitement.

“I’d fully convinced myself you’d never move on from Jay! I was about to beg you to stop banging your head against that brick wall, and here you are expecting a kid! This is amazing news!”

“Spill the details—who’s the baby’s dad?”

I kept her hanging playfully. “Once he wraps up his busy work schedule in a few days, you’ll be the first person I introduce him to.”

Shortly after our call ended, Chloe uploaded a public social media post.

[OMG! My best friend Grace’s having a baby, and I scored godmother duties!]

I was about to message her to keep things low-key.

Jay’s comment popped up beneath the post seconds later.

[? Are you in on this fake act too?]

Chloe shot back without delay.

[People with kids don’t have time for petty skeptics! Can’t you see the official hospital stamp on her paperwork?]

A huge chunk of my pent-up frustration melted away thanks to Chloe’s fiery retort.

I hummed a soft tune while plowing through my afternoon workload.

Later, I took a picture of calming fresh flowers the mystery father had delivered and posted it online.

[It’s nice being cared for.]

Against all odds, Jay left another reply.

“Quit lying to yourself, and don’t claim these flowers came from me.”

In his mind, I held absolutely zero worth.

I ignored his message entirely.

I waited curbside for my ride after work when a familiar vehicle rolled to a stop directly in front of me.

Jay rolled down his window, irritation sharp on his features. “Get in the car.”

I stayed rooted where I stood. “Someone’s already coming to pick me up.”

“I’m not asking nicely. Get inside.”

I texted my driver to cancel the pickup reluctantly.

Out of old habit, I headed toward the passenger door, only to catch his cold glare. I circled around and settled into the backseat instead.

He’d decked that front passenger spot exclusively for his new fiancée; I had no right to sit there anymore.