Page 59 of The Grumpy Billionaire Baby Daddy

The throbbing in my head intensifies, and I can feel the blood pounding in my ears. My vision swims, and I realize with a sinking feeling that I am about to pass out.

Chapter 20

Jason

Ithadbeenaweek since Fiona and I became the subject of widespread scrutiny, and she had vanished into thin air. The nightmares had returned with a vengeance, and I had been unable to sleep more than six hours in the entire week. My head throbbed constantly, and I found it difficult to concentrate, no matter how hard I tried. Fiona's face haunted my dreams, sometimes a sweet vision, other times a twisted nightmare.

In moments of desperation, I would sneak into her room at home, searching for some sort of solace. There was a strange comfort in being surrounded by her things, as though she was still present in some way. Last night, I had curled up in her bed, clutching one of her pillows to my chest as I struggled to find some peace amidst the chaos. For a few hours, the pain in my head had receded, and I had slept a little better than usual.I got at least three hours of sleep and woke up feeling much better. There's so much to do at the office but with the decline in everything, it's getting difficult.

My office is a little cooler because I get hot and uncomfortable easily now.

I fold my shirt sleeve and power my laptop. One of the first things I do in the morning is to check the stocks for Consco, but the day the article was published, every Consco establishment stock began to crumble - from Consco Constructions to Consco Bank and even Ruthless. Now, I dread the charts, but I still have to do them.

When my laptop powers up, I go straight to the charts. As expected, they're all doing badly. I slam my fist on the table, cursing as if the numbers couldn't be low enough.

Picking up my phone, I dial a number.

"Hello, sir?"

"Send the customer charts over."

"Yes, sir."

In less than a minute, a notification pops up on my screen, and I head straight to my mail to check it out.

It's the third time this week I'm asking for the customer record because we're also losing customers at Consco Bank.

I zoom into the document, and sure enough, the customer decline is massive.

"For God's sake."

I lean back in my chair and shut my eyes, my mind reeling. So far, more articles have been published about me and my business.

The most ridiculous one was from yesterday. The heading read:

The Downfall of the Greene Empire.

I've never been more upset about an article in my entire life. I took a moment to glance over it, and words can't describe the magnitude of fear that gripped me. I began to believe it was really my downfall. Good thing I snapped out of it quickly.

I pick up my phone. Am I still trending on Twitter? I launch the app and check the trends. Sure enough, I am.

I've been on the trends the whole week. It would've been a good thing if people were sayinggoodthings. But it's been one vile tweet after the other. People have accused me of child trafficking and women trafficking, all in less than a week.

The worst part is Eva didn't take down the article.

The telecom startles me out of my thoughts.

"Yes, Emma?"

"Ms. Eva's here. Do I send her up?"

My breath hitches, a twinge of hope stemming up in my heart. What if she's come to apologize for the damage she's caused? What if she's planned to take it down? Without wasting another breath, I speak too fast.

"Send her up immediately."

I rub my palms against each other, adjusting my shirt and sitting up. I don't need her to see me appear dejected. She has to see that she didn't get to me with her silly little drama. I put my hair in order and clear the stock charts and emails from my screen. I'll appear to be doing some serious work, not having a full-blown meltdown in my office. In a few minutes, a knock comes on the door.

"Come in," I say, my full attention on the screen. The door opens, and I squint, pretending to read something off the computer. When I look up, she's seated in front of me.

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