The Ticket Was Never for His Mistress Chapter 07

The Ticket Was Never for His Mistress Chapter 07

By then, the news had broken.

“Mercer Dynamics loses core technology to rival Callahan Systems.” Stock down twenty–two percent in a single day.

The analysts had a field day. “Who really built Lumen?” “Is Grant Mercer a fraud?”

I didn’t read the comments. Rhys had the PR team handle everything.

I had a job to do.

That Monday, I was presenting Lumen 2.0 to our engineering team when the room tilted.

Black spots danced in front of my eyes. My knees gave out:

An arm caught me before I hit the floor.

“I’ve got you.” Rhys. His voice right above my ear. “Hazel. Look at me.”

“I’m fine. I skipped breakfast.”

“You’re not fine. You’re grey.”

He didn’t ask permission. He just scooped me up, coat and all, and carried me to the elevator while twenty

engineers pretended not to stare.

“Put me down. This is humiliating.”

“You can fire me later.”

“You own the company.”

“Then you can yell at me later.”

The doctor on Harley Street said it was low blood sugar and stress. Nothing dangerous. But she wanted to check the baby anyway.

“Would your partner like to come in?” she asked, glancing at Rhys in the waiting area.

“He’s not “I started.

Rhys raised a hand. “I’ll wait out here.”

He always waited outside. He never assumed.

in the dim room, the screen lit up. Fourteen weeks now. Not a bean anymore. A tiny profile. A nose. A hand, opening and closing.

“Would you like to know the sex?”

I bit my lip. “Yes.”

“It’s a girl.”

A girl.

I laughed, and cried, and laughed again. A daughter. I pictured my mother’s crooked smile on a tiny face.

“She’s perfect,” the doctor said. “Strong heart.”

The door slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall.

“Hazel.”

My blood turned to ice.

Grant stood in the doorway.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. His suit was rumpled. His eyes were red. Snow melted on the

shoulders of his coat, and his hands were shaking.

He looked at me on the table.

Then at the screen.

At the tiny girl with the opening and closing hand.

For a second, his face did something I’d never seen. It crumpled. Like a boy seeing the ocean for the first

time.

Then his eyes slid past me. To the doorway behind him.

To Rhys, who had risen from his chair and was standing in the hallway, very still.

Grant’s face turned to stone.

“Sir, you can’t be in here,” the doctor snapped.

He ignored her.

He looked at Rhys. Then at me. His voice came out low and poisoned.

“How long?”

“Grant, get out.”

“How long have you been with him, Hazel? Before you left? Is that why you were so calm? Is that why you had

a ticket ready?”

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Brooke told me everything.” His voice rose. “She saw you. At this clinic. With him holding the door.”

“Brooke,” I repeated. “You flew five thousand miles because Brooke told you something.”

The doctor pressed an alarm button on the wall.

Grant stepped closer to the table. His eyes went back to the screen. To our daughter’s heartbeat, flickering in

green.

And then he asked the question.

The one I would never, ever forgive.

“Hazel.” His voice cracked down the middle. “Whose baby is that?”