Page 25 of Worship Him

“Right.” I skim through the pages, but words blur together into an unreadable mess.

“You sure you’re okay?” Derek presses.

“I said I’m fine.” My tone sharpens like a blade. “What’s next?”

He hesitates but then continues. “We’ve got a meeting with marketing at ten.”

“Cancel it.”

“But—”

“I said cancel it,” I snap. “Tell Claire to do it before marketing gets on my ass about it. I’ve got more important things to deal with.”

He nods and retreats from my office without another word.

I slump into my chair, staring at the papers spread before me.

A knock on the door pulls me out of my concentration.

“Come in,” I call out.

Claire enters, holding a steaming cup of coffee. She sets it down on my desk without a word.

“Thanks,” I say gruffly.

She nods and leaves me to my solitude once more.

I take a sip of the coffee, its warmth spreading through me. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine what might have been—what should have been—if Destiny hadn’t betrayed me.

The two of us, raising a child, going on family trips, showing the little one the company, and teaching them how to take over once I’m ready to retire.

I look out of the window. There’s no way that’s happening now. Or ever. I’m not going to trust a woman again, it’s proven to not be worth it.

Another sip of coffee helps me draw myself out of these thoughts. There’s no point in dwelling on that now. What’s done is done.

With renewed determination, I turn back to the reports in front of me. There’s work to be done and no time for distractions.

10

DESTINY

Avery’s cries pierce through the quiet of my apartment, dragging me back from the edge of sleep.

I force myself out of bed, muscles aching from the past three days of restless nights. I hurry over to her room, the carpet soft and comforting under my bare feet.

“Shh, cupcake,” I murmur, lifting her gently. Her tiny body quivers with sobs, and I hold her close, inhaling her sweet baby scent. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here.”

We settle into the rocking chair by the window. The rhythmic creak of wood against floorboards mingles with Avery’s soft whimpers.

I hum a lullaby, one I’ve sung countless times since she was born. Slowly, her cries fade into contented coos.

I can’t help but think about Adam’s face in the courtroom. The way his eyes darkened with anger, his jaw clenched.

How did we get here? The man who once looked at me like I was his entire world now wants ‘a clean break.’

I sigh and glance at my phone on the nightstand, half-expecting it to buzz with another call from Barrett or even Adam’s lawyer. Instead, it remains silent—a brief respite.

Avery squirms in my arms, her eyes fluttering closed. I carefully place her back in the crib and tiptoe out of the room.

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