"I can't believe Josh literally did that." I practically choked the words out, my voice muffled with laughter as I leaned forward in my chair. I was with my coworker, Doris, and she was spilling all the details about her disastrous date with another worker in the company.
I had been on edge since Damien left Chicago three weeks ago, my heart constantly racing, my stomach twisting into knots every time my phone buzzed or Lucas walked into a room. He had jetted off the day after that awful dinner, and surprisingly, he hadn't breathed a word to Lucas about that night. I'd been terrified, waiting for the shoe to drop—for Damien to suddenly call or show up and shatter everything. But he hadn't. It seemed like he was willing to keep his mouth shut, burying the secret as deep as I was trying to. I hadn't mustered the courage to tell Lucas myself. I loved him too much; the thought of losing him made my chest ache with a hollow pain. But the guilt was a relentless monster, gnawing at me from the inside, leaving me sad and withdrawn for weeks. Doris's company was a lifeline today...her gossip pulling me out of my head, making me laugh for the first time in what felt like forever. Maybe everything would be fine after all. Maybe I could move past it, pretend it never happened.
"Yeah," Doris said, rolling her eyes dramatically, her lips pursing in annoyance. "I'm definitely not going out with him again. I literally felt so irked the whole time."
"Well, I don't really like him much anyway," I replied, shaking my head with a small grimae. "He has this very weird vibe about him."
"Well, lucky you," she teased, her eyes sparkling with envy as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "You're out of the dating pool, and very soon you'll be married. How long again?"
I sighed dreamily, a genuine smile tugging at my lips despite the weight in my heart, my hand instinctively touching the engagement ring on my finger. "Two weeks' time. I literally can't wait—this has been my dream for so long."
Doris opened her mouth to respond, her eyebrows shooting up playfully, but her gaze shifted to something behind me, her expression turning mischievous. "Speaking of the devil, here comes your prince charming."
I turned with a warm smile blooming on my face, expecting to see Lucas's usual charming grin as he approached. But my heart plummeted when I saw him stomping toward me, his face a mask of fury—jaw clenched so tight. His fists were balled at his sides. Something was horribly wrong. My smile faded instantly, replaced by a knot of dread twisting in my gut. Oh God, did I mess up the files he asked me to compile? Lucas had been pushing for my promotion, giving me more responsibilities to prove I was worthy of a higher position in his family's company. If it was that bad—if I'd screwed up enough to make him this mad—then the promotion was gone.
When he reached me, his chest was heaving with barely contained rage. I started to speak, my voice trembling slightly, my hands rising in a placating gesture. "Lucas, what's wro—" But I couldn't finish. His hand shot out, grabbing my arm in a vise-like grip, his fingers digging into my flesh with bruising force. He yanked me up from my seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, and started dragging me out of the office area. Pain shot through my arm, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation burning in my cheeks as heads turned, whispers erupting around us. Coworkers stared with wide eyes and open mouths, their curiosity palpable, making my skin crawl.
I tried to wrench my arm free, my free hand prying at his fingers.
"Lucas, what's wrong?" But he only tightened his hold, his nails biting into my skin, sending fresh waves of pain radiating up my arm. I winced, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I bit my lip to hold them back.
"Shut up, you fucking bitch," he snarled, his voice low and venomous, his face inches from mine as he glanced back, his eyes blazing with betrayal. The words hit me like a slap, stealing my breath. He had never spoken to me like that....never with such raw hatred.
He dragged me to the closest supply closet, shoving the door open with his shoulder and flinging me inside. I stumbled, catching myself against a shelf, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.
He slammed the door shut behind him and whirled to face me. His face was terrifying..red with fury, veins bulging in his neck, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. I pressed back against the wall, my body trembling.
"Lucas," I whispered, my voice breaking, my hands raised defensively, tears now blurring my vision. "What's wrong? Is it the file? I'm sorry if I made a mistake....I went through it like a million times…"
"I don't care about the stupid file," he spat, his voice rising, his hand slashing through the air dismissively. "Your test results came out today."
I froze, my blood turning to ice, my eyes widening in confusion and dread. Over the past few days, I'd been feeling ill—nauseous, exhausted. Two people in the office had come down with the flu, so we'd chalked it up to that. Lucas had insisted on calling his family doctor to check me out and run some tests. But now, seeing the rage in his eyes, my mind raced. Was it serious? God, was I dying?
"You're pregnant," he said, the words exploding from him through clenched teeth.
The news hit me like a freight train. I blinked rapidly, my mouth falling open, denial surging through me. No, that couldn't be right. There had to be a mistake. My mind flashed to that night with Damien—the alcohol, the haze, the lack of protection. But I was on the pill. I couldn't be that unlucky.
"No. No, I'm not," I stammered, shaking my head frantically, my voice rising in pitch, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I can't be."
He yanked a crumpled letter from his pocket, his movements jerky and aggressive, and threw it at my face. The paper smacked against my cheek, stinging, before fluttering to the floor. "See for yourself," he growled, his eyes boring into mine like daggers. "The doctor confirmed it."
I snatched it up with trembling hands, my fingers fumbling as I unfolded it, my vision swimming with tears. I skimmed the contents desperately, my breath hitching, but my eyes locked on the damning words: positive pregnancy test. This couldn't be happening. Panic clawed at my throat...I was supposed to be safe. The pill should have protected me. But deep down, a sickening truth settled: it was Damien's. Oh God, what had I done?
"I know it's not mine," Lucas spat out.
Even I knew it probably wasn't his—we hadn't been intimate around that time—but I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't face the horror of it all. "I asked for the dates," he continued, his lip curling in disgust. "It couldn't possibly be mine. So now, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"
I opened my mouth, words failing me, my mind a whirlwind of guilt and fear, but he cut me off, his voice thundering. "Don't even dare lie. I'll know if you do."
"I'm so sorry," I choked out, my voice cracking, sobs wracking my body as I sank against the wall, my hands clutching the letter like a lifeline. "I was going to tell you."
He let out a dry, bitter laugh, throwing his head back, his eyes flashing with incredulity. "Was going to tell me?"
"I meant it," I pleaded, stepping toward him, my hands outstretched, tears streaming down my face, my lower lip quivering. "I was scared at first, but I swear it was a mistake. I didn't mean for it to happen. I was drunk, and I didn't know what I was doing."
"Who is the father?" he demanded.
"Lucas, please listen to me," I begged, my voice hoarse, my body shaking uncontrollably. "I didn't mean—"
"Who is the father, Camille?" he roared, leaning in close, his breath hot on my face, his eyes wild with rage.
"Lucas, please, I'm sorry," I whimpered, covering my mouth with my hand, sobs muffling my words.
"Who is the father?" he shouted, slamming his palm against the wall beside my head, making me flinch.
"I don't know," I whispered, my eyes squeezing shut, shame flooding me. I could have told him who it was but I knew it would be a whole lot worse. Lucas would never forgive me if he found out that his best friend was the father.
"You don't know?" he echoed, his voice dripping with disbelief, his face twisting in revulsion.
"I was drunk, Lucas," I cried, my knees buckling as I slid down the wall, hugging myself. "I didn't know what I was doing."
"You fucking slut," he snarled, pacing the small space like a caged animal, his hands raking through his hair in frustration. "How many times did it happen? Jesus, how many people have you fucked during our relationship?"
"Lucas, it was just that one time," I sobbed, looking up at him through tear-streaked lashes, my face crumpled in despair. "It was a mistake. I didn't mean for it to happen. I was going to tell you, but I was scared of your reaction."
"When were you going to tell me?" he mocked, his voice laced with sarcasm, his arms gesturing wildly. "When you'd passed the child off as mine? Huh?"
"I was never going to do that," I insisted, shaking my head vehemently.
"I gave you everything you could ever wish for," he hissed, pointing a finger accusingly at me, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Made you relevant. Made you someone. And this is how you pay me back?"
"I didn't mean for it to happen," I whispered, my body heaving with sobs, my hands reaching out to him in vain. "I swear it."
"Go to your desk and clear your things," he said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion now, his face hardening into stone as he turned away. "You're fired."
"Fired? You can't fire me," I gasped, my voice trembling with disbelief as I pushed myself up from the floor, my hands shaking as I braced against the wall. "I haven't done anything wrong."
Lucas's face hardened, his dark eyes narrowing as he loomed over me, his jaw clenched tight with fury. "I don't want you working in this company again. I'm giving you an hour to leave the premises, or I'll call security."
I stood fully now, my legs wobbly, my heart pounding in my chest as I faced him. "I haven't done anything, Lucas. Just give me a chance to explain," I pleaded, my voice cracking, my hands outstretched toward him in desperation.
"I don't care what you have to say—you cheated on me," he spat, his voice low and venomous, his fists balled at his sides. "Nothing will justify what you did. I don't want you in my life or in my office."
"You can't fire me," I insisted, my tone rising with defiance, as I wiped tears from my cheeks. "What happens in our private life doesn't concern our work life. I haven't done anything to warrant being fired."
"It's my company," he snarled, stepping closer, his voice dripping with authority as he pointed a finger at me, his face inches from mine. "What I say goes here. I want you to leave this company, or I'll have security throw you out."
Lucas turned sharply, his movements stiff with anger, and moved toward the door. But he stopped, his hand on the knob, and turned back to me. His lips curled into a condescending sneer, as he delivered the final blow. "Oh, and make sure you clear your things from my house. I don't want to see a trace of you there."
With that, he slammed the door behind him, the sound reverberating through the small closet like a gunshot, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts. The weight of it all crashed down, and I broke into tears, my sobs tearing from my throat as I slid back to the floor. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, my hands covering my mouth as I rocked back and forth. I had lost everything...my life, my job, my fiancé...all because of one stupid, drunken mistake.
I don't know how long I sat there, lost in my grief, until the door creaked open. A security guard stepped in, his expression stern as he cleared his throat. "Miss, Mr. Vaughan asked us to escort you out of the building," he said.
He helped me to my feet, his strong hand steadying me as I wiped my face with my sleeve, my legs trembling beneath me. He led me to my office, where another guard was already packing my things into a box...my photos, my mug, my personal files. The office buzzed with curiosity, every head turning as I passed. Whispers followed me, and I felt the weight of their stares burning into my back. Most of the women watched with glee, their lips curling into smug smiles, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction. It wasn't a secret they'd wanted Lucas for themselves, and now, with my downfall, they reveled in it.
When my things were packed, the guards escorted me out of the building. They left me standing outside, the cool air hitting my tear-streaked face, my eyes still red and puffy from crying. I had stopped sobbing, but the ache remained. Passersby glanced at me curiously, their gazes lingering, but I had nowhere to go. I'd moved out of my apartment weeks ago to live with Lucas, and returning to his townhouse was out of the question.
I stood there, my arms wrapped around myself, when Doris emerged from the building. Her face softened with concern as she hurried toward me.
"Camille, what happened?" she asked, her voice gentle, her brows knitting together as she took in my disheveled state.
"Oh dear," she murmured, stepping closer and placing a hand on my arm. "Let's get you home."
"I can't," I whispered, my voice breaking, my eyes dropping to the ground. "Lucas… he said I shouldn't come back."
"Let's go to my place," she insisted, her hand squeezing my arm reassuringly.
"But… you still have work," I protested weakly, my gaze flickering back to the office building.
"I took permission to leave," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Besides, everyone's worried about you. Let's get out of here."
She hailed a cab with, guiding me into the backseat with a protective arm around my shoulders.