Forbidden Age-Gap Romance with Dad's Enemy and a Surprise Pregnancy

Chapter 1

Nora

I hadn’t even opened the door, and I was already exhausted. That seemed to be the feeling whenever I visited my parents nowadays.

I let out a sigh before I entered. “I’m here,” I announced, my heels clicking against the porcelain tiles as I shrugged my jacket from my shoulders.

Inside smelled like steak—which was my dad’s favorite. He could eat it every day without complaint.

“In here, sweetheart,” I heard my mom call.

Bertha, the maid, came over with a smile and helped me with my jacket.

“Thanks, Bertha.” I smiled, and she nodded as she moved to set it aside.

Bertha’s smile widened. “Long day?”

“Ask me again when I leave,” I murmured.

My smile was automatic as I entered the grand dining room, muscle memory from years of faking it. Once inside, I looked over at my parents sitting at the table, ready to be served. The room was polished right down to the place settings, formal enough that I always felt like I should sit straighter.

Dad was on his phone, his brows furrowed, his expression stern. Mom poured herself a glass of wine, smiling as she glanced my way.

“You’re here, honey. Come, take a seat,” she said.

I went over and kissed her on the cheek, then kissed Dad on the cheek. He grunted, smiled briefly, and went back to typing aggressively on his phone.

“We’re happy you could make it.”

“I always do, Mom,” I reminded her.

She smiled, her lips bright with red lipstick. “You’re right. Always the good daughter, aren’t you?”

I tilted my head. “You make it sound like a job.”

Mom took another sip of wine. “It shouldn’t be.”

I forced a smile and glanced down at the steak that had been placed in front of me. It was the only thing that got Dad off his phone. The only thing that made him genuinely smile.

“Perfect,” he said as he began cutting into it.

Before taking a bite, Dad glanced at me.

“I saw the lobby renderings your firm posted for that hotel on Madison. You worked on those?”

“I did the lighting plan and most of the furniture layout.”

“It looked good.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment.”

Dad cut another piece of steak. “Don’t fish, Nora. I said it looked good.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want to get greedy.”

I smiled because, as simple as his words were, praise from Dad didn’t come often. When I was twelve, he’d framed one of my room sketches and hung it in his office. Back then, I’d thought he understood. Some part of me was still twelve and stupidly pleased whenever he noticed my work.

“Thanks,” I said.

The clinking of utensils cut through the silence in the room. I ate, wondering when a good time would be to tell them I was leaving the city. I glanced at Dad, happily working his way through dinner, and decided I’d wait until he finished his steak. No point competing with his favorite cut of meat.

“So, how’s work going?” Mom asked, sipping her wine.

I shifted in my chair and cleared my throat. “I, uh…” I trailed off when my heart began pounding.

I guessed the right time was now.

“I… I actually handed in my resignation today,” I said.

Both heads snapped toward me at the same time. Dad’s frown deepened.

“What?” he snapped, his blue eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down my spine.

“I’m moving to Misty Pines,” I continued.

Mom’s eyes widened. Dad pushed his steak aside.

“M-Misty Pines?” Mom stuttered, her face going pale.

“Have you lost your mind?” Dad asked, his voice firm.

“I need a change of scenery,” I said.

Mom scoffed. “Then take a vacation—move to LA even—but Misty Pines? Don’t be foolish, Nora.”

Of course L.A. counted as acceptable. It was still a city. Misty Pines, to Mom, was the kind of place people escaped.

I raised a brow. “You both survived growing up there. I think I’ll manage.”

Mom stared at me, her gray eyes wide. “And if it weren’t for your father, I would’ve been stuck in some bakery, selling things at some farmers’ market. Nora, darling, please tell me this is a joke. We know that town.”

“You know what it was like for you.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I said.

Mom gasped. She turned to Dad so fast, she’d probably have whiplash tomorrow.

He just stared at me intensely, as if trying to see through me or waiting for the moment I’d say this was all a joke.

Well, it wasn’t.

Dad’s stare hardened. “You made all these decisions without saying a word.”

“I knew what you’d say.”

“Then you knew better.”

“No. I knew you’d try to stop me.”

To Dad, disagreeing with him was proof enough that I was wrong.

“Grandma asked me to visit more, and I never did. I hate that. Misty Pines feels like the right place for me now. I could even run her inn,” I said. Just saying it made me want to get started. An old inn was something I could work on room by room, something I could still do for Grandma now.

“Sweetheart, if you’re feeling guilty about not visiting, look at a postcard or something. And running her inn?” Mom scoffed, followed by a dry laugh. “That thing’s probably crumbled.”

I shook my head. “Last time we spoke, she said it was still standing. She just needed help with the upkeep.” I frowned as Mom’s words sank in. “Why are you talking about her as if she was a stranger? She was family.”

Mom sighed. “I appreciate Ellen for raising your father, but if it were up to her, your father would be stuck in that place—we both would be. You wouldn’t even exist!”

“I’m sure she had her reasons,” I argued.

Mom gave a short laugh. “You’re trading a career for an old inn in a town we worked to escape.”

“I’m not asking you to understand it.”

“You’re asking us to watch you waste everything you worked for.”

“Good thing it’s mine to waste.”

“You’re not leaving to go to some old town barely visible on a map. You have work here to do,” Dad finally said, and I stiffened, my heart racing.

“I quit, Dad. There’s no job to go back to.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re my only child. You should’ve been working by my side from day one. Come work for me. Forget that design job of yours.”

“I don’t want to work for you.”

Dad’s mouth hardened. “You don’t know what you want right now.”

“I know enough to have quit a job I actually chose.”

My throat constricted.

“That’s right,” Mom added. “You’re an Adams; it’s about time you started acting like it.”

I looked between them. “So being an Adams means Dad picks my job and where I live?”

Dad’s expression didn’t change. “It means you stop treating your future like a tantrum.”

I sat there watching as Dad went back to his steak as if the conversation had never happened. Mom had a smug smile on her face, as if proud that he’d intervened and put me in my place.

Staying another day in this city would be torture, and I wasn’t interested in arguing with my parents anymore.

I was twenty-five. I had my own condo. I had money saved.

It wasn’t enough to be careless, but it was enough to leave.

I could get the repairs started and live on it for a while.

If the inn was worse than Gran had let on, I’d have to stretch every dollar.

Heck, I was an adult—not some ten-year-old who depended on her parents for everything.

I was going, whether they liked it or not.

Since Grandma Ellen passed five months ago, I’d had plenty of time to reflect—mostly on family and the life I was living in the city. I’d finally admitted how lonely I was there.

The more I thought about it, the more the city felt like a place where I worked and slept, not somewhere I wanted to stay.

My condo was mine. My career had been mine.

Somehow, none of it felt like home. I’d spent so much time trying to make my parents proud that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stopped to ask myself what I wanted.

Grandma had died alone in that small town she refused to leave.

Dad said she was stubborn, hated progress, and didn’t have an ambitious bone in her body.

When Grandma passed, he ordered her cremated without a funeral service or even a memorial.

No service. No room full of people telling stories about her.

No chance to stand somewhere and say goodbye.

Mom didn’t have a say in the matter; she’d lazily grumbled that it was my father’s mom, so it was up to him to do as he pleased.

They both agreed to it and moved on as if the matriarch of our family hadn’t just died.

I had to leave this place. I had to take a break. It didn’t feel like home anymore, and if I was being honest, it hadn’t felt like home for a very long time.

Dad had made his name in the city as one of New York’s finest businessmen, and Mom was like a First Lady at his side, there to support his every move while she lived her fairy-tale life—a small-town girl now among the elite.

It was my turn to live the life I wanted, whether they liked it or not.