Chapter 7 No.7

Julian slammed his office door shut. The heavy mahogany vibrated with the force of it.

He loosened his tie, furious. He paced behind his desk.

"You assaulted an employee," he accused. His voice was low, dangerous.

"She insulted my father," Vivian defended herself. Her voice shook, but she stood her ground.

Julian waved his hand dismissively. "Words, Vivian. You responded with violence."

"She called me a charity case. She mocked his death."

Julian stopped pacing. He looked at her. There was no sympathy in his eyes, only annoyance.

"Olivia is vital to Serena's launch," he said. "She is the marketing lead. You cannot go around slapping people because your feelings are hurt."

"My feelings?" Vivian laughed incredulously. "This isn't about feelings. It's about respect."

"You are damaging the company image," Julian cut her off. "We are in a delicate transition period."

Vivian felt the injustice burning in her throat like acid. He cared more about the campaign than her dignity.

"You need to apologize to her," Julian commanded.

"No," Vivian said firmly.

Julian stepped closer. He used his height to intimidate her, looming over her.

"Do it, or the divorce settlement changes," he said.

Vivian looked at him with disbelief. He was blackmailing her.

"I can tie the assets up in court for years, Vivian. You'll get nothing."

Vivian looked at the man she had married. He was a monster. A pragmatic, cold-blooded monster.

She decided to test him. One last time. She needed to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Julian, does anything about us matter?" she asked.

He frowned, impatient.

"What if..." Vivian placed a hand on her stomach. "What if I were pregnant?"

Julian froze.

The room went silent. The air conditioning hummed.

His eyes narrowed. He scanned her face, looking for a lie. His gaze dropped to her stomach, then back to her eyes.

"Are you?" he asked sharply.

Vivian held her breath.

"Hypothetically," she whispered.

Julian let out a harsh laugh. He ran a hand down his face.

"Don't play games, Vivian."

He walked back to his desk and sat down, putting a barrier between them.

"The contract is clear. Any pregnancy would be a disaster right now."

Vivian felt her heart stop.

"And frankly," he looked her in the eye, his gaze steady and cold. "I would never want a child to be born into this mess. If you were pregnant, I would expect you to handle it. Or I would handle it for you. No child of mine will be raised in a broken home."

There it was. The truth.

"Handle it." That meant erase it.

Vivian felt something inside her shatter. It wasn't her heart-that was already broken. It was her hope. The last thread that connected her to him snapped.

She reached into her pocket and gripped the bottle of pills. She needed to protect this baby. From him.

"I understand," she said. Her voice was dead. Flat.

"I'll apologize."

"Good," Julian said without looking up. "Make it convincing."

Vivian turned. She walked to the door. She hid the single tear that escaped her eye.

She walked out to find Olivia. She apologized mechanically, her words hollow. Olivia smirked, triumphant.

Vivian walked to the bathroom. She locked herself in a stall.

She took the bottle of prenatal vitamins out of her purse. She looked at the label she had handwritten earlier: "Stress Relief / Ulcer."

She looked at the bottle.

He would never know. She would die before she let him "handle" her child.