A FatherA Broken Lover
Emery stood in front of the large mirror in the bathroom, drying her wet hair with a white towel.
Steam still lingered in the air from her shower. She wore a thin linen frock that fell just mid-thigh, its delicate straps barely clinging to her shoulders.
Her legs were bare, feet without shoes, and droplets of water still clung to her fair skin. Her hair hung in damp waves past her shoulders, the wet bangs framing her face.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” she said, not turning around.
The door opened. Jesse stepped inside, already dressed for the office. His dark hair was neatly combed, his light stubble trimmed to perfection.
He wore navy blue suit pants, a crisp white dress shirt, and a matching navy vest. The tie and jacket were missing, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His cologne, clean, woody, and painfully familiar, instantly filled the large room.
He stopped in his tracks the moment he saw her.
Emery looked at him through the mirror. His dark brown eyes were locked on her reflection, roaming over her damp hair, the thin straps of her frock, the bare length of her legs. This was the woman he had loved for three years. This was the sight that had always made him lose control.
He swallowed hard and exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself.
“What do you want?” Emery asked coolly, continuing to dry her hair with the towel.
Jesse’s voice came out rough. “I wanted to… tell you that… we can go have the paternity test today.”
Emery sighed and draped the towel around her shoulders. She turned to face him directly, arms crossing over her chest.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she said flatly.
Jesse’s gaze dropped to the floor immediately. “I’m sorry.”
Emery watched him for a moment, then spoke again, her tone distant. “You can call me and I can come to the office whenever you want. We can go to the hospital from there.”
Jesse nodded, still not meeting her eyes. “Or I can pick you up?”
Emery rolled her eyes. “That won’t be necessary.”
Jesse nodded defeatedly. “Right.”
She studied him for a beat longer, then stepped forward, voice low and sharp.
“Know this, Jesse Prescott,” she said, eyes locked on his. “If the baby is yours… you’re doomed.”
Jesse paled visibly, the color draining from his face. His lips parted, but no words came out.
Emery turned away from him, picking up a comb from the counter. “You can go now.”
Jesse stood there for another second, swallowing hard. “Alright. I’ll call.”
He turned and left the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him.
Emery stared at her own reflection in the mirror, heart pounding. The thin linen frock suddenly felt too revealing, the air in the room too heavy with everything they couldn’t say.
She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath.
The test was happening soon.
And no matter what the result was, nothing would ever be the same.
×××××××
Jesse’s office was quiet in the mid-afternoon lull. He sat behind his desk, reviewing documents, when the door opened without a knock.
Francesca Monroe stepped inside, wearing a tight black dress that hugged every curve, the neckline plunging just enough to be suggestive. Her perfume filled the room, sweet and heavy, as she closed the door behind her with a soft click and a knowing smile.
“Jesse, darling,” she purred, sauntering toward his desk. “I thought I’d surprise you. Your mother mentioned you’ve been working too hard lately.”
Jesse stood up immediately, putting distance between them. “Francesca, this isn’t a good time. I have to be somewhere in twenty minutes.”
She ignored the hint, circling the desk until she was close enough to trail her red nails lightly down his arm. “Then we’ll make it quick. You’ve been avoiding me. I thought we could… get to know each other better. Alone.”
She stepped even closer, pressing her body against his side, one hand sliding up to loosen his tie. Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “I know how to make a man forget his stress. Let me show you.”
Jesse’s jaw clenched. He caught her wrist gently but firmly and pulled her hand away. “Francesca, stop. I’m not interested.”
She pouted, undeterred, and leaned in closer, lips brushing his ear. “Come on, Jesse. Don’t be so cold. I can be very… accommodating. Your mother already approves. Imagine how good we could be together.”
At that exact moment, the door opened again.
Emery stepped inside, holding her folder she kept her pregnancy records in. She froze in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight of Francesca practically draped over Jesse, her hand still trying to slide down his chest.
Francesca noticed her first. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned her head with a condescending smile.
“Really? No manners at all,” Francesca scolded, voice dripping with superiority. “Walking into a man’s office without knocking like some clueless little servant. Didn’t anyone teach you basic etiquette?”
Emery’s chest burned... a sharp, searing mix of rage and jealousy that made her stomach twist. She gripped the folder tighter, knuckles turning white, but she refused to let it show on her face.
Jesse immediately stepped back from Francesca, creating clear distance. “Emery...”
Francesca cut him off with a laugh. “Oh, look at her. Standing there like a lost puppy. Is this what the Prescotts have been reduced to? Letting the replacement wander around like she owns the place?”
Emery’s stormy eyes flashed. She lifted her chin, voice steady despite the fire raging inside her.
“I'm here for Jesse. He called me here so we can leave together for my appointment,” she said coolly. “I didn’t realize I needed permission to enter my husband’s brother’s office.”
She placed the folder and her purse on the desk with deliberate calm, then turned her gaze to Francesca.
“And as for manners,” Emery continued, her tone quiet but cutting, “perhaps you should learn not to throw yourself at a man who clearly isn’t interested. Some of us don’t need to beg for attention.”
Francesca’s smile faltered for a split second, genuine irritation flashing in her eyes.
Jesse looked between them, tension radiating from every line of his body. “Francesca, you should leave.”
Francesca straightened her dress with a huff, shooting Emery one last venomous look before sauntering toward the door.
“This isn’t over,” she muttered under her breath as she passed Emery.
The door clicked shut behind her.
The office fell into heavy silence.
Jesse turned to Emery, guilt and something deeper burning in his dark brown eyes. “Emery… I didn’t—”
“You don’t have to explain,” she said coldly, already turning to leave. “It’s none of my business.”
But as she walked out, her chest still burned with that ugly, unwanted jealousy, and the painful reminder that Jesse was free to be with anyone.
While she was trapped.
×××××××
The private wing of the hospital was quiet and clinical. Emery sat on the examination table in a paper gown, her hair tied back neatly, eyes fixed on the wall. Jesse stood a few feet away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, tension radiating from every line of his body.
The nurse explained the procedure calmly and professionally.
“This is a non-invasive prenatal paternity test. We’ll draw a small blood sample from you, Mrs. Prescott, and take a cheek swab from Mr. Prescott.
The fetal DNA in your blood will be compared to his.
It’s highly accurate after nine weeks. We’ll have results in five business days. ”
Emery nodded silently. She barely flinched when the needle went into her arm. A few vials of blood were drawn, labeled, and set aside. Jesse sat down for his cheek swab, a quick, painless scrape inside his mouth. The nurse sealed everything and gave them a polite smile.
“You’re all set. The lab will contact you when the results are ready. Take care.”
As soon as the nurse left the room and closed the door, the air grew thick.
Jesse turned to Emery, his eyes already glistening. His voice cracked the moment he spoke.
“Emery… I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t look at him. She slowly buttoned her blouse, movements mechanical.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he continued, voice trembling.
“You’re carrying a baby… and it might be mine.
After everything I did, pushing you away, asking for that stupid break, you’re the one paying for it.
You’re the one who has to lie every day.
You’re the one who has to live with Alexander while I… ”
His breath hitched. Tears slipped down his cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away.
“I love you,” he whispered brokenly. “I never stopped. And now there’s a child, and I have to pretend I’m just the uncle.
I have to watch you go home to my brother every night.
It’s killing me, Emery. I can’t sleep.
I can’t breathe. Every time I see you, I want to fall to my knees and beg you to forgive me. ”
Emery finally looked at him. Her expression was closed off, cold, and exhausted.
“Stop,” she said flatly. “I don’t have time for your tears, Jesse.”
He flinched as if she had slapped him.
“I have to wake up every morning in your brother’s bed,” she continued, voice low and cutting.
“I have to bare it when your mother insults me. I have to lie to doctors, to your family, to myself, all because you were too much of a coward to claim me when you had the chance. And now you’re sobbing in a hospital room like your pain matters more than mine? ”
Jesse’s shoulders shook with silent sobs. “It does matter. Because I did this to you. To us. To our baby.”
Emery stood up, smoothing her blouse with steady hands even though her own eyes were wet.
“I don’t care how much it hurts you,” she said coldly. “I have no time for your emotions. I have to figure out how to raise this child in a house that hates me. I have to pretend the father is the man I sleep next to every night. So save your tears, Jesse. I don’t want them.”
She walked toward the door, pausing only long enough to deliver the final blow.
“You made your choice that night. Live with it.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
Jesse remained in the empty examination room, tears streaming down his face, fists clenched at his sides.
Five days.
In five days, he would know if he was going to be a father… or if he had lost the woman he loved forever.
And either way, the pain felt unbearable.
×××××××