Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
“Will there be champagne on the flight?” the third quips while doing something in the mirror. “But seriously, do you think she knows?”
Know what? the voice in my head whispers. What are they talking about?
The woman’s friends pause before answering.
“I don’t think so,” the first one drawls. “It didn’t seem like it.”
“No one would be smiling so much if she knew,” the second one adds. “Either that, or she knows and is some kind of psycho.”
Knows what?!?!? the voice in my head screams now. What don’t I know?
“She’s not his type,” the third one adds. “I thought he liked exotic beauties, and that other lady was definitely his type. What was her name again?”
“I can’t remember,” the second one says. “Maybe Hari? Or Haddath? It was something like that.”
“Hadassah,” the third chimes in. “I remember, because she told us that it means myrtle tree in Hebrew.”
“Right,” the second one muses. “And how far along was Hadassah when we met her?”
All of the women pause for a moment, as if in thought.
“Second trimester,” the first one says. “At least.”
“So do you think he’s having two children with two women simultaneously?” one of the ladies asks. “Or has Hadassah’s baby been born already?”
“I don’t know,” the third answers in a skeptical tone. “So many questions with no answers. Seriously, Nick Bannister is a player, and it looks like he’s getting away with murder.”
“Unless she knows,” the third adds. “But who knows who knows what, and what exactly they’ve agreed on? This is a crazy situation, and it’s not for us to get involved. But yeah, Nick Bannister is more than a player. He’s a fucking asshole.”
Then, with that, the women finish their primping and teeter towards the exit in their high heels. The door swings shut in their wake, even as I sit on the sofa immobilized. Who is Hadassah? It seems that Nick has a type, and I’ll bet that Hadassah is exactly his type with sloe-eyes, a curvy figure, and dark hair. Even crazier, it sounds like she was, or is, pregnant with his child! At the same time as me?!?! What the hell?
My breathing is labored and my head goes light. I can’t believe this is happening. I thought that I was developing a relationship with the billionaire. I thought we were getting to know each other, bit by bit, day by day. But it seems that Nick’s neglected to tell me something huge, and that’s that there’s another woman pregnant with his baby right now. Either that, or she’s already had his baby, and these women are surprised to see me because I’m obviously not Hadassah.
Oh my god, oh my god, what do I do? My pulse is racing and my vision goes black for a moment. My fingers clutch the sofa’s arm but the strength has already drained out of my form, and I’m in big trouble. My consciousness begins to fade, and my mind rings with only one thought: Please, God. I don’t care what happens to me but please please please spare my baby from any harm.
10
Ella
Sixteen months later.
I gaze fondly at my son as he wobbles in the living room. Marty’s dressed in a red and green onesie with a Santa hat on his bald head. He can’t quite walk yet, but he’s upright with one hand on the ledge next to the fireplace.
“Mama,” he babbles while shooting me a toothy grin. “Mama, Mama.”
“Yes, I see you, sweet boy,” I coo. “Are you ready for your first Christmas? Are you excited for Santa to come tonight?”
Of course, Marty has no idea who Santa is because he’s still a baby, but I’ve gone all out with the tree, presents, and holiday decor. There are garlands on the stone fireplace, as well as two stockings hanging from the mantel, one spelling “Marty” and the other “Mama.” The cottage gleams bright and cozy, and I let out a sigh of happiness because my life was rocky for a while.
I don’t have too many memories of what happened after passing out in the women’s lounge. What I do know is that I was heartbroken, overwrought, and suffered heart palpitations. Someone found me slumped on the floor, and 9-1-1 was called on the spot. Paramedics whisked me to the hospital, and when I woke, Nick was at my side, a tortured expression on his handsome features.
“Ella,” he murmured, taking my hand in his own. “I was so worried.”
I struggled to sit upright, but even that movement made my head spin and I lay back down again, dizzy and out of breath.
“You’re expecting another child,” I croaked, my heart feeling as if it might explode from my chest.
Nick’s expression was downcast, and he couldn’t meet my eyes.
“Yes,” he replied. “My son will be born any day now.”
I stared at him, my gaze accusatory.