Page 72 of Discretion at Its Finest

The thought made my stomach twist violently. I tried to prepare myself for every outcome, but none of them felt survivable.

I checked the time again.

6:29.

My pulse thudded hard in my ears as I gathered my things. The hallway outside my office was nearly empty now, each step toward his office feeling heavier than the last. By the time I reached his door, my palms were damp, my breathing shallow. I lifted my hand, hesitating slightly before knocking.

“…Come in,” he said from inside.

I entered, closing the door behind me as I turned to look at him.

He was seated behind the desk, his suit jacket draped over the arm, sleeves rolled to his forearms, top buttons loosened as his tie was long forgotten. Atop his desk were no scattered papers, no disorder like the night before. Whatever cracks I’d seen in him then were gone now.

He looked up slowly. And for the first time all day, his eyes settled on me.

There was no coldness, no fury in them… They just seemed calm, decided even… like he knew exactly how this would all play out and I could only pray it wasn’t as bad as the possibilities my mind had constructed.

“Have a seat.” He spoke without moving his eyes, and I entered fully, taking a seat in the same chair I was in yesterday. If I should learn anything from that, and last night, it was to keep my hands and wandering eyes to myself.

Reid stayed silent for a minute or so before putting aside the folder in his hand, leaning back in his chair. I kept waiting for the cruelty to hit me, or whatever version of him I’d been bracing for all day.

Finally he spoke. “If you want my forgiveness,” he said evenly, “then we’re going to do this properly.”

My fingers tightened in my lap.

“I’m going to ask you questions,” he continued. “And you’re going to answer them. No more deflecting, no tears, no rewriting history to make yourself feel better.”

My throat burned. “Okay.”

“If you lie to me,” he added, voice calm and merciless, “we’re done.”

I nodded once, and he stared at me silently, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”

The question landed like a slap to the face. The same way it landed the night at the gala when he asked the same thing after our moment on the balcony. Thinking back to how he’d acted then and now, I could only assume he knew then too.

I swallowed hard. “Because I was scared.”

“Of what?” he pressed immediately.

“Of you,” I admitted, the word tasting like ash on my tongue. “Of what you would do if you found out after being pushed out of the family. And I was afraid of Gregory finding out… of the safety net being yanked out from under us.”

“You could have sent a letter. An update on your life. He didn’t have to be mine if you did; I just could’ve known.”

“I know. With everything we’ve been through before, I at least owed you that much. I’m sorry. It’s just… by then,” my voicecracked, “everything felt too big and irreversible. I thought if I kept quiet, I could keep things… stable.”

“Stable for who?”

“For everyone,” I whispered.

“Wrong answer.” My chest tightened as his eyebrow rose. “Try again.”

“For me,” I said, tears blurring my vision. “I kept it from you because I was trying to protect myself and whatever life I was trying to build.”

“The life you tried building with Gregory?”

I closed my eyes, a defeated sigh leaving my chest as I nodded regretfully. “Yes.”

Reid’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why him? I could’ve given you everything.”