3. Genevieve
Chapter three
Genevieve
Eugene snuggled into me deeper as the low hum of his favorite show played.
He had needed a nap this afternoon and found comfort with his head in my shoulders and legs and arms wrapped around me.
I didn’t mind it. Not when my own arms were wrapped around him the whole afternoon, afraid he’d disappear if I let him go.
Every so often, I’d nuzzle my nose in his hair, smelling the faint scent of baby shampoo and lavender that clung to him. Just to remind myself that my son was still in my arms.
I stared ahead, not focusing on anything really as I did my best to keep my thoughts from spiraling.
He was too young to understand the weight of what was coming. Too young to question why the adults around him were whispering more than they used to. Why Daddy was always tired. Why Mommy looked over her shoulder more often.
I was the one who understood. And I still couldn’t bring myself to face the impending reality.
“Mommy?” His voice was groggy, barely above a whisper. I looked down, brushing the hair from his face.
“Lovebug? You awake?” I murmured softly, and he hummed, snuggling into me.
“…Hungry,” was all he said, and I couldn’t help the smile that came to my lips as I kissed his cheek.
“Of course, honey. It’s almost dinner time, too. I’ll get you a snack to eat for now.”
He nodded sleepily, and I stood, carefully holding his slowly waking body to me as I walked to the kitchen.
Sitting him at the island, I grabbed a few graham crackers to give him before I opened the refrigerator and pulled out a small carton of milk, pouring it into his favorite cup with dinosaurs on it.
He munched happily on the crackers, crumbs catching on his lips, humming along to some tune only he knew.
Then the front door opened. Footsteps sounded in the hall, heavier and more than the rhythm I was used to with Gregory. His voice carried first, in a calm but desperate register. “…I told you, Dad, this isn’t the time—”
“It’s exactly the time,” Raymond cut him off. “You’re running out of options, Gregory.”
My stomach dropped.
Gregory appeared in the doorway, loosening his tie with one hand, jaw tight. Raymond trailed behind, expensive coat draped over his shoulders, eyes taking in the room like he owned it. Which, in a way, he did.
Eugene’s face lit up. “Daddy!”
Gregory’s tension melted just enough as he crossed the room to ruffle our son’s hair. “Hey, champ. You being good for Mommy?”
“Yes,” Eugene said around a mouthful of cracker, holding up his cup proudly. “Drinkin’ milk.”
“Atta boy.”
Raymond’s gaze softened slightly when it landed on Eugene and me before he nodded. “Gen.”
“Raymond.” My voice was steady, but I held Eugene a little closer, subconsciously trying to brace for the worst.
Gregory shrugged off his jacket, tossed it over a chair, and reached for the bottle of wine I’d set out earlier. “Let’s just eat,” he muttered, pouring himself a glass before he’d even sat down at the dining table.
Raymond took the seat at the head, like he always did, as I set the table, trying to ignore the tension between the two of them.
Gregory sat across from him, and I settled beside Eugene, cutting his food into small pieces before he began stuffing them in his mouth.
The clink of cutlery against porcelain filled the silence for a moment.
Finally, Raymond spoke. “The numbers don’t lie, Gregory.”
“I’m fixing them,” Gregory replied, his tone coming out bitter.
“And I’m telling you that you can’t this time. You’re sinking. The board knows it. Investors know it. And if you don’t accept the reality then—”
“I said I’ll fix it!” Gregory snapped, slamming his hand down on the table hard enough that the wine rippled.
Eugene jumped, startled. My hand immediately went to his back, soothing circles as he looked up at me in an instant.
“It’s okay, Lovebug,” I whispered, kissing the crown of his head.
Raymond didn’t flinch. “Your pride isn’t going to fix what you’ve destroyed. We need an investor, and there’s only one person who can pull the weight we need.”
The fork stilled in my hand as my blood went cold.
“We don’t need him,” Greg emphasized.
I could only listen in horror as Raymond shook his head. “Gregory…”
“He is not setting foot in this family again. I don’t care how much money he has. He’s not a Newman, he never was—”
Raymond cut him off, voice rising. “Reid is the only one who can save what you’re bleeding out. You think I want this? You think I enjoy crawling to him after what happened? This isn’t about you anymore. It’s about saving the company.”
My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears.
Reid.
Just hearing his name made the hairs on my neck stand.
My fingertips felt numb. I was sure sweat beads started budding on my forehead.
It was practically a miracle I hadn’t fainted yet.
The room was shrinking. My breaths turned shallow, quick, barely pulling in air. My chest felt like it was caving in.
I tuned out the rest of the conversation. My hand moved without thought, combing through Eugene’s hair as if to remind myself that this wasn’t a dream. He chewed another bite of chicken, swinging his feet under the chair, blissfully unaware, no care in the world.
But I couldn’t hold it together. My body was betraying me. The tremor in my hands, the shallow rise and fall of my chest, the way my vision blurred at the edges until only my son was clear.
All I could hear was his name, over and over in my head.
The man I had loved. The man I had betrayed.
He was coming home.
It felt like everything I’d built was going to fall apart at the seams. Every lie, every secret, unraveling thread by thread. And I didn’t think there was anything I could do to stop it.
A few sleepless nights had gone by. Gregory came home late and left early the next morning for most of them. So for the most part, the house was quiet.
When I tucked Eugene into bed, his little hand curled around mine as if he knew I needed anchoring. I stayed beside him longer than I needed to. Watching his chest rise and fall. Memorizing the innocence on his face. Pretending, for just a moment, that everything was okay.
Soon enough, I slipped into my own room only to see Gregory already waiting, restless energy pouring off him. His tie gone, shirt undone, sleeves rolled up in a way that reminded me of him.
“Come here,” he murmured, reaching for me.
I went over, my hands wrapping around his head as he lay it on my chest, his hands caressing my hips as I stood between his legs.
“Another long day?” I whispered, and he sighed, his forehead pressing harder to my chest.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, voice frayed. His hands gripped tighter at my waist.
I stroked the back of his head, murmuring soft, empty reassurances he needed to hear. “You’re doing everything you can, Greg. You’ll fix it. You always do.”
He exhaled deeply. I knew he wanted to believe me. Then his mouth pressed to the thin fabric of my nightgown, his hands sliding higher until he pulled me down into his lap.
“Stay with me tonight.” His words were a desperate plea disguised as a command.
I placed a kiss on his lips to say yes, because that’s what I did. Because he needed me and I needed a distraction.
His mouth demanded mine. I let his hands tug the nightgown over my head, let him push me down onto the bed, and climb over me like he was proving to himself that he was still in control of something.
I closed my eyes and tried to give him what he wanted. I moaned when I was supposed to. I arched my back when his thrusts grew harder, faster, chasing a release he was certain he could give me if he just tried hard enough.
But every sound was rehearsed. Every gasp, every whispered “yes” was a performance. My body played the part, but my heart wasn’t in it.
In an instant, however, the atmosphere of the room shifted.
The weight of a stare, another person, pressed harder than Gregory’s body over me. My eyes snapped open, darting around the room discreetly before they froze, locking onto—
Reid.
My eyes locked on him leaning against the doorway, shirtless, his chiseled chest on display, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other cradling a glass that held what looked like his favorite scotch.
His hooded eyes were still visible in the moonlit room, his jaw sharper than before, his hair more tousled but still styled enough to exude that same feeling of control he always had.
He didn’t speak or move. He just stood there, watching.
My breath caught, my body tightening as though every nerve had been pulled taut.
Gregory groaned my name, oblivious, rutting harder, whispering, “That’s it, baby. That’s my girl.”
But my gaze was locked to Reid’s. He sipped from his glass slowly, never looking away from me. And then it hit me… the reason my body was trembling, why the pressure was coiling tight in my core, why I suddenly could barely catch my breath.
It wasn’t Gregory.
It was him.
His gaze pinned me to the mattress harder than Gregory’s weight ever could, then—
An earth-shattering orgasm tore through me, so sudden and suffocating. I bit down on a cry, but it still slipped free from my throat, raw and broken. My nails clawed at the sheets.
I wanted to close my eyes, to block him out, but I couldn’t. He held me there. Every thrust, every sound, every broken gasp was his, even though Gregory thought it was his doing.
“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, but Reid knew better.
He raised his glass in a slow, mocking toast, the amber catching in the moonlight. His eyes burned with something darker than lust, deeper than hate.
Then, as silently as he’d come, he turned and vanished into the dark hallway.
Gregory collapsed beside me, chest heaving, content in his delusion. I lay rigid, staring into the darkness, every nerve still alive and firing.
Because I had performed for Gregory. But I had broken for Reid.