Page 49 of The Baby Plan

Sophie was so grateful she had her work to keep her occupied after Alana had gone to bed for the night. Her clients were pleased with her work, and she was getting more through word of mouth. She loved the freedom of working for herself and knowing she could drop everything if she needed to for her niece.

Though it was much more convenient for Sophie to work in the study rather than the kitchen table, she only did so when Samson wasn’t also in there: staring at him at the desk opposite was more than she could bear. Even if she managed not to look in his direction at all, she was sure she could feel his eyes on her as he tiptoed around her, the guilt that he knew he’d hurt her so evident on his face.

She had some client documents to print out and then be posted that afternoon, so was glad when Samson said he was going to take Alana and Mutt out for an hour; she could use the printer in the office in peace. She printed what she needed, and addressed the envelope, but realised she didn’t have a stapler — goodness only knew where hers had vanished to during the super speedy packing up of her flat.

She walked round to Samson’s desk to see if he had one she could borrow. The top of his desk was quite messy, but there was no stapler hiding in amongst the piles of papers. Absentmindedly she pulled open the top drawer on the side of the desk, thinking that would be where she’d keep a stapler; he’d told her more than once she was welcome to use any of his office supplies, and it wasn’t locked.

The drawer was a catch-all, packed full of random pens, elastic bands, receipts, and goodness only knew what else, making it difficult to get at what was inside. Her heart stopped as she saw what was written on a piece of paper stuffed in the top — they were the results of a paternity test. She pulled the paper out, careless in her hurry, scanning it swiftly to discover the results: it confirmed Samson was Alana’s father. Sophie subconsciously let out a sigh of relief, Samson and Alana loved each other so much, and had such a close bond, it would be devastating for Samson if he’d discovered he wasn’t really Alana’s father.

But her feeling of joy evaporated even swifter than it had come: he’d had the test done without her knowledge. The letter was only dated three days before. He’d had Alana tested and not said a word to her.

Why would he do that?

Because he’d decided to pursue sole custody and wanted DNA evidence to support his claim?

She couldn’t help but wonder what else he might be hiding. Checking underneath, she found her undeniable proof of his intentions: court papers. Adoption papers. Presumably what he needed because of not being registered on Alana’s birth certificate.

Sophie dropped the bundle as if it had burnt her, her instinct to bury it where she’d uncovered it as if doing so could turn back her ever having found it. Or better still, make Samson, of all people, not be deceiving her in this way. It couldn’t be anything else. There couldn’t be another explanation.

They hadn’t properly talked about what they were going to do formally with Alana, other than that they would work together to bring her up, but what had happened between the two of them to have changed his mind? He’d obviously regretted sleeping with her, but would that have spurred him to this? And she’d told him she’d only found out about Alana the night Natasha died of course! It was the perfect ammunition against her. That one fact weakened her whole guardianship case, and he wanted to use it against her. Oh, why had she ever thought it would be safe to confide in him? She was an idiot. How could she not have known any man her sister had had anything to do with would turn out to be completely untrustworthy?

He was doing his level best to get her out of the picture for good. He was trying to take their little girl. For him to have the best chance of success, she guessed it made sense for him to prepare everything in secret, build his case ready, then spring it all upon her. And expect her to fold without a fight?

Crushed by his betrayal, she broke down, her soul devastated.

Chapter 12

Rooted to the spot in the study, Sophie wavered, unable to move, unsure what to do. She never should have let her guard down with Samson. But how could she not have? She’d been blinded by her wishful thinking into a misleading dream, a dream that he wanted the same as she did and had the same feelings about her as she did for him. And that they could become a real parental unit for Alana.

It was easy to see why he was preparing and had kept his cards so close to his chest. He adored Alana and seemed to have settled into fatherhood naturally and easily. Why would he want her aunt hanging around? He didn’t need Sophie, he could easily afford a babysitter or a nanny. He had no loyalty to her, they had no history, other than that he’d slept with her and her sister — both relationships over as soon as they started — though, granted, it sounded like her sister had lasted slightly longer than she had. Having her stay may have been handy at the beginning when he had no idea what to do with Alana, but now her usefulness to him had expired.

Maybe. But in reality, she knew the truth: she’d given him the ammunition to use against her. That night, their night, she’d confessed how precarious her link to Alana was, that Natasha had hidden Alana from her too and her discovery of the baby wasn’t until after the terrible crash. That Alana hadn’t known her aunt.

Was there anything she could do? Anything that would mean she’d stand a chance if it came to a fight in court over Alana? She had nothing concrete in writing from Natasha to say she’d want Sophie to care for her baby. Having checked through all of her sister’s worldly goods, Sophie knew her sister hadn’t left a will. But Natasha had chosen not to tell Samson about their child for months, she must have had a reason. He’d more than shown his worth as a father in the time since, but could she leverage Natasha’s initial reluctance to include him in their daughter’s life? And she was Natasha’s only relative, Alana’s only relative on her mother’s side, surely that must give her some rights? But would it just get Sophie an afternoon once a fortnight with Alana?

That wasn’t enough. Alana was all Sophie had, was everything to her, was the reason and meaning in her life: she had no partner, no children, no home of her own anymore. She couldn’t let her go. There was nothing more important to her than her niece.

Should she leave and take Alana with her? But where would she go? How would she support herself and Alana, moving again? There were so many thoughts fighting through her mind, each desperate to receive the attention it deserved.

She heard the front door open and Samson call out he was back. What should she do?

Her mind raced. Flight or fight, she guessed. But what was best for Alana?

Samson’s voice echoed up from the kitchen, searching for her. Damn it! She needed more time. Time to organise her thoughts, sort through her feelings, weigh the options. She had to think about what was truly best for Alana — she needed her father, true, but she also needed a mother. And Sophie was the closest thing to her mother. She couldn’t have loved the little girl more if she’d been her own biological daughter.

She hurriedly shoved the papers back where she’d found them and tried to dry her tears carefully with her sleeve, not wanting to smudge her make-up and signal her distress.

Samson’s voice had reached the bottom of the stairs. She quickly slipped out of the study.

“I was in the bathroom. Did you enjoy your outing?” she said as nonchalantly as possible, heading him off before he managed to reach the landing.

“Yeah, it was nice. We had ice creams...” He trailed off when he saw her face; he could clearly tell she wasn’t right. “You OK?” he continued with concern.

“I’m fine,” she answered curtly and wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

Obviously not convinced, but warned off by her tone he said, “I’ve got half Alana’s ice cream on my shirt... I need to change but I’ll be downstairs in a minute... if you’ve got time to talk?”

“Sure,” she said, trying to modulate her tone to allay his immediate unease, a plan forming as she thought on her feet. She passed him and walked downstairs. Samson watched her back for a moment before heading to his bedroom.

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