Chapter 5

The next day at ten a.m., Ethan appeared at the door of my studio apartment.

"I know."

He stood outside, his expression complicated—not angry, more like a kind of patronizing helplessness.

"Know what?"

"That you're pregnant. Blair told me."

She hadn't kept her promise after all.

Ethan walked in and looked around the room—less than a hundred square feet—and frowned.

"Vivian Stone, what are you planning to do with this child?"

"Have it."

"Have it and then what?" His voice rose slightly. "You make thirty-five hundred a month. You can barely support yourself."

"You don't need to worry about me."

"I'm worried about myself."

Ethan sat on the only plastic chair, hands clasped. "Blair's pregnant too. You know that, right? She's further along than you—already seven weeks."

"She showed me the ultrasound."

"Right." Ethan nodded.

"Let me be clear. My first child should be with Blair. Yours... isn't appropriate."

"Ethan Moore, are you sure you want me to abort your child?"

"We're already divorced. Even if you have this child, it'll be a single-parent family. That's not good for anyone." He stood up. "Get an abortion. I'll pay for the procedure and nutrition costs. Is fifty thousand enough?"

The door was pushed open from outside.

My mother-in-law.

She walked in carrying a plastic bag and looked around.

"This is where you're living?" My mother-in-law put the plastic bag on the table. "There's twenty thousand dollars in there for the abortion. Plus the thirty thousand from Ethan, that's fifty total. Enough for you to start over."

"I told you, I'm keeping the child."

My mother-in-law's face darkened.

"Vivian, don't be ungrateful. You know what Blair's family is like. She's Ethan's legitimate wife. You're carrying a bastard..."

"This isn't a bastard. It's Ethan Moore's child."

"If my son doesn't acknowledge it, then it isn't." My mother-in-law's voice rose. "You think getting pregnant means you can latch onto our family?"

"Vivian Stone, I'll say this one last time." Ethan didn't look up from his phone. "Get rid of the child and we'll part on good terms. If you don't, I'll go to court and apply for a paternity test and fight for custody. I have a house and a company. You have nothing. The court will award me the child."

"And then I'll let Blair raise this child."

Let Blair raise my child.

That sentence was like a knife, stabbing precisely into me.

My mother-in-law pushed me. "Did you hear? Don't think pregnancy gives you leverage. You're nothing in front of us."

Ethan's phone screen lit up. A message from Blair popped up. I glimpsed a line of text:

[Ethan, is it handled? I bought your favorite cheesecake.]

Ethan replied, locked the screen, looked up at me, waiting for my answer.

My mother-in-law stood beside him with her arms crossed, like a supervisor.

I touched my stomach.

This child was the Stone family heir, the child my entire family had waited over a decade for.

Ethan wanted to fight for custody? He had no idea who he was challenging.

I took out my phone and found a number I hadn't called in three years.

I dialed. It was answered after one ring.

"Dad, come pick me up. I'm pregnant."

Ethan and my mother-in-law both looked at me.

My father's voice came through the phone, very calm, but every word carried undeniable weight.

"Give me twenty minutes."

I hung up.

Ethan frowned. "Who did you call?"

"My father."

My mother-in-law laughed mockingly. "Your father? Didn't you say your father was a farmer in the countryside? Calling some old farmer to back you up?"

I put my phone back in my pocket.

"Ethan Moore, you just said you want to fight for custody."

"That's right."

"Fine. Then wait."