Page 73 of Silver Fox's Secret Baby

"I'm going to meet with my lawyer and make sure that my rights are protected. And only because of Pax, I'm going to keep my word to you. You can stay here and work for me as long as you need. In return, you're going to give me unfettered access to the boy and you're going to sign whatever document needs to be signed that says he's my son."

Her eyes were round and dazed, the epitome of a deer's eyes caught in the headlights.

"I don't know what plans you have for when you move out of here, but if they involve leaving New York City, I will demand that Pax stays here with me. I've already lost four years. I'm not going to lose any more."

Her breath hitched. Her lips quivered. I turned away, stomping on the minuscule part of my heart that wanted to feel bad for her. She had brought this on herself.

I reached the stairs before I realized the most important question hadn’t been answered yet. I turned again. "Does he know?"

She shook her head. "I thought we would tell him together."

I needed to get my shit together. I couldn't meet Pax as his father with all this anger toward Samantha raging through me.

"Meet me in Pax’s room in ten minutes."

She nodded. I headed up the stairs, taking them two-by-two to release the explosive energy raging through me. I made it to my room, shutting the door and leaning against it.

I had a son.

A son that I potentially would have never, ever met. If Gwen hadn't died, causing Samantha to return to New York, she'd still be in Seattle and I'd still be unaware. If Samantha's father wasn't such an asshole and hadn’t taken Samantha and Pax’s inheritance away, I wouldn't have given her a job and she wouldn’t have been in my house, and I would've never known Pax was my son. The idea that only through a set of very specific circumstances did I know about Pax was devastating to me. I never would've believed Samantha was capable of such cruelty, not just toward me but toward Pax as well. What had she told him about his father? What was she planning to tell him as he got older and asked questions about his father?

I went into my bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and studying myself in the mirror. I had to stop thinking about Samantha's betrayal and focus on Pax being my son. This sweet, smart child was my son. My heart filled with love.

Feeling more in control, I exited my room and took the stairs up to the third floor. When I reached the doorway, I looked in and saw Samantha sitting at the child-size table.

Pax was standing next to her, his head cocked to the side and his hands pressed against her cheeks. "Are you sad, Mommy?"

"Yes, I am."

"How come?"

She wiped tears with a tissue. "Because I kept a secret that I shouldn't have. And I hurt Henry."

"Why don't you say you're sorry?"

She gave him a soft smile. "I did. But some things are hard to forgive."

She took both his hands in hers and cradled them close to her chest. "When Henry gets here, I'll tell you what the secret is, and I hope that you'll be able to forgive me too."

"I'll forgive you, Mommy." Pax looked up at her with pure love. Would he look at me the same way?

“I hope so.”

“And if Henry doesn’t, I’ll punch him.”

“Oh, no, sweetheart. We don’t hurt people for being upset at us.”

I hated that I was coming out of this looking like an asshole. Pax was only four years old and probably wouldn’t completely understand the full ramifications of Samantha's deception. But as he grew older, he would. Would he harbor any resentment when that time came?

I stepped into the room, and Pax and Samantha looked up at me.

Pax took a step in front of his mother, his eyes narrowing at me. "When someone says they’re sorry, you're supposed to say that's okay."

My heart ached that even now, my own son was chastising me. My resentment toward Samantha grew that she would set me up like this.

Samantha tugged Pax back to her. "Remember how sometimes you get angry at me? And that doesn't just go away. I hurt Henry. He has a right to be upset."

I pulled out the chair from the small table and sat, hoping it would hold my weight.

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