27. Genevieve #2
Conference room after conference room. Reports, projections, contracts back to back. Reid was there for all of them. And he didn’t look at me once.
He sat at the head of the table, sleeves rolled, posture immaculate, voice calm and razor-sharp as he dismantled arguments and redirected conversations. He spoke over executives twice his age without raising his tone. He smiled when necessary. Nodded when expected.
Here, he was absolutely untouchable.
Every time he directed me to speak, his attention shifted elsewhere. To another board member or his notes… I think even at one point the paint on the wall behind me. He was ignoring me for good reason. And his silence hurt more than his anger.
By the third meeting, my thoughts were unraveling.
This was my punishment.
When the meeting was adjourned, I caught sight of him down the hall, now standing with Alexander and another executive. He laughed at something one of them said.
And when I tried for his attention, for just a minute when he was alone: “Reid—”
“Send the revised speeches to Alexander; I’ve got a meeting with legal in ten.” he remarked, already moving past me.
I ended up standing there, stupidly frozen like I didn’t know what to do next. And the rest of the day didn’t get any easier.
Once I’d finished going over the notes from the PR team, it was inching closer to late afternoon.
The sun had begun its slow descent, casting long bands of gold across the glass walls as the elevators chimed less and less.
One by one, offices emptied. Voices faded.
The building dimmed into something quieter.
I should’ve gone back to his penthouse.
I wanted to kiss Eugene’s forehead, sit beside him while he rambled about comic books and superheroes and whatever small thing Cara did that felt monumental to him today.
I wanted to feel normal again. Even if it was only for one evening.
But when I returned to my desk and found the folded note tucked neatly beside my belongings, my body went still.
My office, 6:30.
—Reid
No explanation besides that.
Against my better judgement, I didn’t leave.
Instead, I stayed behind, pretending to work, opening files I’d already reviewed, rereading speeches and press notes I’d memorized, straightening stacks that didn’t need straightening. Anything to keep my hands busy, my mind from unraveling completely.
It was now 6:27.
Not that I was counting.
Over the last hour I played the sequence of events that led up to this point over and over again, my mind racing at what could happen at in his office tonight.
Would he throw me out? Tell me to pack my bags and leave his home, his life?
Who’s to say he hasn’t decided to just stay here, not return to the Newman Trust chaos across the country and rip my son away from me?
He had the resources and DNA to do it. Who’s to say he won’t make my life a living hell all because I deserve it?
The thought made my stomach twist violently. I tried to prepare myself for every outcome, but none of them felt survivable.
I checked the time again.
6:29.
My pulse thudded hard in my ears as I gathered my things. The hallway outside my office was nearly empty now, each step toward his office feeling heavier than the last. By the time I reached his door, my palms were damp, my breathing shallow. I lifted my hand, hesitating slightly before knocking.
“…Come in,” he said from inside.
I entered, closing the door behind me as I turned to look at him.
He was seated behind the desk, his suit jacket draped over the arm, sleeves rolled to his forearms, top buttons loosened as his tie was long forgotten. Atop his desk were no scattered papers, no disorder like the night before. Whatever cracks I’d seen in him then were gone now.
He looked up slowly. And for the first time all day, his eyes settled on me.
There was no coldness, no fury in them… They just seemed calm, decided even… like he knew exactly how this would all play out and I could only pray it wasn’t as bad as the possibilities my mind had constructed.
“Have a seat.” He spoke without moving his eyes, and I entered fully, taking a seat in the same chair I was in yesterday. If I should learn anything from that, and last night, it was to keep my hands and wandering eyes to myself.
Reid stayed silent for a minute or so before putting aside the folder in his hand, leaning back in his chair. I kept waiting for the cruelty to hit me, or whatever version of him I’d been bracing for all day.
Finally he spoke. “If you want my forgiveness,” he said evenly, “then we’re going to do this properly.”
My fingers tightened in my lap.
“I’m going to ask you questions,” he continued. “And you’re going to answer them. No more deflecting, no tears, no rewriting history to make yourself feel better.”
My throat burned. “Okay.”
“If you lie to me,” he added, voice calm and merciless, “we’re done.”
I nodded once, and he stared at me silently, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”
The question landed like a slap to the face. The same way it landed the night at the gala when he asked the same thing after our moment on the balcony. Thinking back to how he’d acted then and now, I could only assume he knew then too.
I swallowed hard. “Because I was scared.”
“Of what?” he pressed immediately.
“Of you,” I admitted, the word tasting like ash on my tongue. “Of what you would do if you found out after being pushed out of the family. And I was afraid of Gregory finding out… of the safety net being yanked out from under us.”
“You could have sent a letter. An update on your life. He didn’t have to be mine if you did; I just could’ve known.”
“I know. With everything we’ve been through before, I at least owed you that much. I’m sorry. It’s just… by then,” my voice cracked, “everything felt too big and irreversible. I thought if I kept quiet, I could keep things… stable.”
“Stable for who?”
“For everyone,” I whispered.
“Wrong answer.” My chest tightened as his eyebrow rose. “Try again.”
“For me,” I said, tears blurring my vision. “I kept it from you because I was trying to protect myself and whatever life I was trying to build.”
“The life you tried building with Gregory?”
I closed my eyes, a defeated sigh leaving my chest as I nodded regretfully. “Yes.”
Reid’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why him? I could’ve given you everything.”
“I know that.”
“Yet you still chose him.”
I had no defense for that. Because he was right and there was nothing I could say that would make that truth hurt less for either of us.
“How did you know?” I asked instead of responding.
He watched me silently, processing the question. I half expected him not to answer at all given the arrangement of this so-called conversation.
“The timeline didn’t add up.” His jaw flexed.
“Every thought I spent three years burying came back all at once. And the moment I saw Eugene and the more time we spent together, I listened to those thoughts.” He folded his arms. “And when the opportunity presented itself, I stopped pretending this didn’t matter because I needed to finally know once and for all. ”
I swallowed hard as his eyes pinned me. “Reid,” I whispered, “…I-I know you don’t want to hear this for the millionth time…
but I truly am sorry. For leaving you… not giving you the truth you deserved.
For everything.” My voice shook despite my effort to keep it steady.
“I know sorry doesn’t change anything and I know it doesn’t undo what I took from you. But I needed you to hear me say it.”
His silence answered me, infuriating silence that felt loud in the room. Then he shook his head. “I’m not going to forgive you, Genevieve.”
The finality in his tone landed harder than it should’ve. My chest tightened painfully. “I—”
He stood, cutting me off. The chair scraped against the floor as he rose, every controlled movement unhurried, the space between us diminishing as the air tensed.
“You don’t get forgiveness because you’re sorry,” he said calmly. “And you don’t get it because you’re finally honest.”
I pushed back instinctively. “Then what do you want from me?” I moved to my feet, standing now, my pulse racing as he closed the distance one agonizing step after another.
He stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him making my skin feel electric. “I’m not interested in words,” he said. “Empty apologies, empty promises, none of them.” He stepped closer. “I want what should’ve been mine all along.”
My throat burned. “I don’t know how to give you that.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth. Then back to my eyes. “That,” he said, voice lowering, “isn’t my problem.”
His lips ghosted my cheek. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest against mine.
“You spent three years lying to me,” he murmured. “Choosing safety over truth… Him over us.“ His hand lifted, fingers grazing my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “And now you think words will fix what you broke?”
I shook my head, unable to speak, and felt cold the second he dropped his hand from my face, his expression turning emotionless. “Exactly,” he breathed. “Because they won’t.”
He took a step back. “Genevieve, you need to prove to me that you truly want my forgiveness.”
I shook my head. “I already apologized, Reid,” I whispered. “I begged you to forgive me. I told you everything you needed to know. What more could you possibly want from me?”
His eyes darkened as he watched me, that sadistic look in his eyes growing as he spoke the command that undid me right there.
“Kneel.”