Page 77 of Babies for the Big Shot
“Get out, Rebecca.”
She adjusts her blazer, composed. “Fine. But do give her my regards. Context is everything.”
Finally, she exits, head high, heels sharp, performance complete.
The door closes behind her.
A beat later, Emily appears, hesitant. “She said she was just… dropping something off.”
“She wasn’t.”
“No,” she agrees quickly. “She was asking questions. About Sara. Where she works, her schedule…”
Of course she was.
“She’s not allowed back up here. Not ever.”
“Yes, Mr. Ashford. It’s just…” Emily hesitates. “She doesn’t exactly… take no for an answer.”
I grit my teeth.
This needs to end. Now.
I don’t wait. I walk past her, past the elevator, straight to the street.
If I know Rebecca, and I do, she won’t have gone far. She likes to linger. To observe the damage firsthand.
I find her two blocks away, exactly where I expect her.
Bleeker & Bond. All reclaimed wood, hanging plants, and twelve-dollar pastries. The kind of place that thinks character is a mood board.
She’s outside. Oat milk cappuccino. Massive sunglasses. Smiling smugly to herself.
I stop in front of her. She doesn’t even blink.
“You’re predictable,” I say.
She lifts her cup in salute. “You always liked my taste.”
I don’t sit. I don’t blink.
“I’ll ask once,” I say quietly. “Are you the one snooping around Sara?”
Rebecca tilts her head, innocent on the surface. “Snooping? Darling… I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“You knew exactly where to start,” I say evenly. “You always said there wasn’t a secret you couldn’t dig up.”
She smirks, lazy and pleased with herself. “Flattering, really, how much faith you still have in me.”
“Cut the theater. You were supposed to be digging, not meddling.”
She reclines in her chair, perfectly composed. “And here I thought I was being helpful. One dramatic entrance, and suddenly everyone’s awake again.”
“Don’t dodge,” I say. “Did you find anything out or not?”
“Nothing actionable,” she says lightly. “Just whispers. You know how these things go.”
But I see it.
