Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“Good to see you, Gray. You look well,” she finally said.
I slammed my hand against the table, causing everything to bounce, and she jumped.
“What kind of sick game are you playing now?” Venom dripped from my voice.
She quickly composed herself, straightening her spine. “I know you’re a good man, but I needed to see who our daughter was going to be around before I decided to tell you.”
“Our daughter? If she’s my daughter, why the fuck would you wait more than three years to tell me?”
A man opened the conference room door and looked at Max. “Everything okay in here?”
Max’s hand went to her ear. She’d always had a habit of playing with her earring when she was nervous. Good. You should be fucking nervous.
“Everything is fine, Jack. Thank you for checking.”
The man gave me a second glance, and probably seeing daggers in my eyes, he hesitated and looked at Max again.
She had to reassure him. “Really. We’re fine. Gray and I go way back. We were just having a heated discussion over the futures market.”
The guy nodded, even though he looked like he didn’t believe a word she’d said, and slowly shut the door.
Max cleared her throat. “If I’d told you I was pregnant three years ago, you might’ve fought harder for your freedom, and then I wouldn’t have had my immunity.”
I stared at her. She’d basically just admitted everything I’d figured out was true. Not that I had any doubt about it, but I’d never expected her to come clean.
“Why are you suddenly telling me all of this? I’ve been out for almost two months, and you go to my girlfriend’s place of employment pretending to be a client so you can introduce her to a child you claim is mine?”
Max slid the folder in front of her across the table. I didn’t move to pick it up.
“I had no plans to tell you ever. I’d gotten what I wanted and moved on to start my life in Key West.”
“And what changed?”
She moved her eyes to the folder. “It’s all in there.”
My voice was eerily calm. “No more games. What’s in the folder, Max?”
She pushed back from the table and walked to the window. My patience wore thin during the long minutes she stared outside, but somehow I managed to wait until she spoke.
She kept looking out the window as she started. “I have stage four metastatic breast cancer. It’s spread to my lungs, liver, bones, and brain. My MRI, PET scan, and medical papers are all in that folder—along with a DNA test proving that Aiden is not the father and one proving that you are. I submitted your toothbrush and razor so they could collect a sample.”
She walked back to the table, held the top of the chair she’d been sitting in, and looked me straight in the eye. “There’s also a letter I wrote to you included in that folder.”
Of all the shit I’d imagined she might say today, that wasn’t it. I stared into her eyes. This was a woman who’d fed me lies for years, and I’d fallen for them all. I’d lost three years of my life because of her expertise in lying…. And yet…I could swear she was telling me the truth.
I slid the thick folder to my side of the table and removed the rubber band. With a deep breath, I opened it and began to sift through the pile of papers. Most of it was medical gibberish I didn’t understand. Words jumped out from the page as if they were highlighted and flashing, even though they weren’t.
Palliative treatment
Histopathology
Neutropenia
One particular section on the bottom of a Memorial Sloan Kettering PET CT study seemed to read in plain English more than the others. It confirmed everything she’d said, citing large tumors in her head, lungs, liver—the site of a double mastectomy even.
I looked again. My original assessment of her weight loss suddenly became clear. No body fat, thin face…I started to notice things I hadn’t before. Her skin was a sallow grayish yellow, her thin face had aged twenty years, and her hair was a different color and much thicker than it had been—she was wearing a wig. Once voluptuous, with curves even when she’d run herself too thin, she now had no breasts.
I closed my eyes for a moment and swallowed. It did nothing to clear my jumbled mind. Opening them, I looked up at the woman who’d stolen years of my life, along with my reputation and dignity. I didn’t want to see her as human. I wanted to see her as the monster I’d spent three years cultivating my hatred for—but I couldn’t. All I saw was a frail person. A woman. A mother. Someone’s child who was thirty years old and dying.
The inside of my chest felt hollow. My voice softened. “How long do you have?”