Page 163 of Babies for the Big Shot
Evelyn squeezes my arm. “What can I do to help you?”
But right now I feel impossibly, catastrophically alone, and I don’t think anyone can help me. Not even someone who’s been through it before.
“I need to go,” I choke out, already grabbing my bag.
“Where?”
I don’t have an answer. Home? Nick’s office? The moon?
Every step toward the door feels heavy. The article might as well have hooked talons into my back.
The bell jingles overhead, far too cheerful for what’s happening. Outside, a gust of February air slaps my cheeks, sharp as betrayal.
The chapter of my life where I was invisible is over.
And the next one, whatever it is, has started with a headline I never agreed to.
CHAPTER FORTY
Nick
I don’t likethe offices ofEdge Magazine.
Not one bit.
The building itself is forgettable, glass and steel wedged into Midtown like every other over-styled monument to ambition, but the atmosphere inside is calculated. An affectation of minimalism that somehow screams for attention.
I didn’t come here to be impressed.
Jonah walks beside me, silent, but I can feel the tension coming off him in waves. He knows better than to intervene when I’m in this state.
I’m not here as CEO. I’m not here as a man looking to negotiate. I’m here as someone whose patience has worn paper thin.
Sara’s face is out there. Her name, her past, her image, our children, all of it laid bare in a glossy exposé that never should’ve seen the light of day.
She trusted me. And I failed her.
I thought I’d silenced Isla. Thought I’d given her an offer she couldn’t refuse.
It’s safe to say I was wrong.
The assistant at the front desk, barely out of college by the look of her, recognizes me instantly. Her expression flickers from surprise to unease as she points toward the executive wing without waiting for me to announce myself.
Of course she knows why I’m here. They all do.
I walk the length of the corridor without hesitation.
Isla Vale is standing by the floor-to-ceiling window when I enter, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on her mouth. The skyline stretches out behind her, a backdrop she commissioned for moments just like this one.
She doesn’t offer a greeting.
“Ms. Vale,” I say, closing the door behind me. “I’m sure you were expecting me.”
Her smile sharpens. “The numbers speak for themselves, don’t you think? I made the right choice going with my news story.”
“This wasn’t news,” I say flatly. “It was an invasion.”
“Pfft, come on. You’reNick Ashford.You’re used to the spotlight.”
