Page 62 of His By Contract

“Hey, baby,” she whispered, fighting to keep her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. “Mommy’s here now.”

She crossed to their kitchenette, grabbing a clean dishcloth from the drawer. The tap water ran cold over her trembling hands as she soaked the fabric. Water dripped down her wrists as she wrung it out, her movements quick.

Back at his bedside, she pressed the cool cloth to his forehead. “Remember the story about the brave knight?” Her voice filled the quiet room, desperate to drown out the sound of his shallow breathing. “The one who fought the dragon to protect his village?” She kept talking, weaving tales of heroes and adventures, anything to keep the panic at bay.

The last time he’d been this sick flashed through her mind. That endless night of fever dreams, his small body racked with coughs. She’d held him then too, helpless without insurance or the means to get him proper medical care.

Georgia settled on the edge of the mattress, gathering Theo into her arms. His head lolled against her shoulder, heat radiating through his pajamas. She pressed her cheek to his forehead, whispering soothing words as his fever ebbed and surged.

A thought crept in, unbidden and bitter—if Adrian knew… would he even want to know? Would he care about the boy he never asked for, never even knew existed? Would he see Theo as a problem to be managed, something that didn’t fit into his carefully controlled world? Or would he resent her for making the choice alone, for keeping their son out of his reach?

She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. That life was long behind her, a life full of power games and calculated moves. She’d chosen to protect Theo from that, to keep him safe from the tangled web of ambition and dominance that surrounded Adrian. This was their reality, just the two of them, getting through each challenge together.

The hours crawled by. Georgia hummed softly, old lullabies her mother used to sing, while Theo’s fever rose and fell like the tide. Exhaustion pulled at her bones, but she kept watch, monitoring each labored breath, each shift in his temperature.

Dawn’s first gray light filtered through their cracked window when she felt the change. The burning heat finally began to fade from his skin. Georgia sagged against the headboard, relief flooding through her tired body. Her fingers threaded through his hair, now merely damp instead of soaked with fever sweat.

“We made it, baby,” she murmured against his temple. “We made it through.”

A soft knock at the door shattered the morning quiet. Her heart jumped into her throat as she glanced at Theo, but he didn’t stir. She rose and crossed the worn floorboards on silent feet, careful to avoid the spots that creaked.

The door hinges protested as she cracked it open. Mr. Peterson stood in the hallway, his jacket hanging loose on his frame, deep lines etched around his mouth.

“Miss Phillips.” He kept his voice low, matching her careful silence. “We need to discuss the rent situation.”

Her stomach clenched. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re still paying the old rate. Rent went up two months ago.” He shifted his weight, hands tucked into his pockets. “You’re behind by about four hundred.”

Georgia’s mind raced through a blur of bills and late notices. Had she missed something in the stack of mail she barely had time to sort?

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize.” She gripped the doorframe, steadying herself. “Could I have a little more time? Just until my next paycheck?—”

Mr. Peterson rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze drifting down the empty hallway. “Look, you’re usually good about paying on time. But I can’t keep making exceptions. Property taxes are killing me this year.”

“Please.” The word caught in her throat. “I’ll figure something out.”

“One week.” He met her eyes, his expression tired but firm. “That’s all I can give you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Peterson.” Georgia’s voice came out steadier than she felt. “I appreciate the extra time.”

She closed the door with a gentle click, her forehead dropping against the cool wood as tremors ran through her hands. The knot in her stomach twisted tighter, each breath a battle to keep quiet, to stay calm. Theo needed her strong, not falling apart.

Another soft knock made her jump. Mrs. Miller stood in the hallway, her silver hair tied back in a loose bun, worry lines creasing her face.

“I couldn’t help but overhear.” Mrs. Miller stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have some money saved up. Let me help with the rent, just this once.”

Georgia shook her head. “I can’t accept that.”

“Please, dear. I know what it’s like, trying to make it on your own.” Mrs. Miller’s eyes held a familiar weariness. Georgia had seen the prescription bottles lined up on her neighbor’s kitchencounter, had noticed how she counted pennies for her cancer treatments.

“We’ll figure something out.” Georgia managed a small smile, though it felt brittle on her face. “But thank you, really.”

Mrs. Miller hesitated, her hand reaching out to squeeze Georgia’s arm. The touch held more comfort than words could express. With a final concerned look, she retreated to her apartment.

Georgia locked the door and slid down against it, her legs giving out. The panic clawed at her chest, threatening to overwhelm her. She forced herself to breathe, counting each inhale until the worst of it passed.

Later that night, the apartment fell silent except for Theo’s soft breathing beside her. Her empty stomach cramped, but she ignored it, focusing instead on her son’s peaceful face. The warmth of his small body pressed against hers filled her chest with fierce determination. They would survive this, like everything else.

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