Chapter 3 - Josiah
Her face has lost that cool, controlled calmness that has been consistent since the moment she walked into the interview room. She looks panicked now. Scared.
I never wanted to play dirty with her. I didn’t want to have to blindside her like this, but I didn’t see any other way of making this happen.
As soon as I heard her ask that question in the interview about benefits for single mothers, I told HR to hire her and give her whatever she wanted or needed to make sure she accepted the contract.
Then I called my private investigator. It didn’t make sense.
With all the alerts I had on her, I should have been told the second she was admitted, for any reason, to any hospital in the city.
I’d also have been notified if she got married, bought a house, or had anything major happen to her.
It was the only reason I was content to leave her be, knowing that if she ever needed me, I’d be alerted. It was my peace of mind.
I should have been notified of her pregnancy the second it got punched into the systems.
But I wasn’t.
The thing is, I never expected her to leave Chicago. She loves this place. She told me that there was nowhere else in the world she could picture herself living, and while she had dreams of traveling, she made it clear she would never move away.
But she did.
She moved to California, and that explains why I didn’t get any alerts.
Of course, after finding out she’d moved, I had my private investigator do a full deep dive into her life.
She gave birth to twin girls only six months after we broke up.
There is no room for doubt or denial here.
Those children are mine.
I am a father, and worse than that, I am a father who has missed out on five years of his children’s lives. Watching them grow up, getting to know them, watching them flourish. I missed so much.
Kayla is standing in front of me, looking down at the marriage certificate. I step forward to take it from her. “I’m sorry, Kayla. This is the way it had to be,” I inform her.
“Why? Why would you want this? You made it unquestionably clear the last time I saw you that you wanted nothing to do with me.”
She’s right.
When I broke up with her, I made sure I destroyed even the slightest hope or belief that we could reconcile. I can’t even blame her for hating me and not telling me about my own kids. I wouldn’t have told me, either. I forced her to hate me to stop her from coming back to me.
Sure, when I first realized that those two girls were mine, I was not as calm or accepting of her decision as I am now.
I was furious.
My entire world was shattering, and her betrayal cut into me like a sword. I wanted to scream and hate her. I wanted to punish her for what she’d done. But after the rage came the guilt.
Because no matter how I looked at the situation, no matter what angle I approached it from, it was my own fault. I created the exact situation that did not allow her to contact me again to tell me about our babies. She had no choice.
After the guilt came sorrow. All the time I lost. Realizing how badly I fucked up. Realizing how much I must have hurt her, which was my goal, to push her away, but for it to be so effective that she raised two babies alone instead of reaching out to me…
Last night I lay awake from dusk till dawn and thought of ways to make this right, and I pieced a plan together. Because there are many things I excel at, and determination and perseverance are high on that list. I can and will make this right. I can and will fix this.
“Josiah,” she snaps, “why would you do this to me?”
“Not just to you, Kayla. I did this for our children.”
Her eyes shoot wider when she realizes I know. She bites down, her jaw clenching as she holds her anger inside.
“As we speak, your belongings are being packed and moved into my mansion. Your nanny was rather surprised about the whole situation, but we sent a message ‘from your phone’ to let her know that the move to a bigger home was one of the perks of your new job. She will be joining you as well. The girls will need that familiarity, and I imagine it will be good for them to have someone they know with them while you and I are working.”
Her lips are parted. Her eyes are wide and flaring with anger.
But there are no tears. I don’t see self-pity or weakness, or, to be honest, hardly any overly emotional reaction at all. Oh, I can tell she’s pissed off, but she has such incredible self-control that I don’t feel like I’m looking at the same girl I once knew.
She looks the same. Yet different.
Somehow, impossibly, even more beautiful than before.
Her fierceness makes her eyes shine brighter, those light green pools I have stared into for hours, become lost in, been consumed by.
Her perfect cupid lips and sharp, feminine features…
she is as beautiful as ever, and the sight of her stirs something deeply primal within me. Urges I haven’t felt since…
Since I last saw her.
In fact, she’s the only one who ever made me feel this way.
I clear my throat, pushing away the tempting thoughts that flood my mind. Focus, every move you make from now on will shape the future of your life with your children.
Unfortunately, for the time being, I'm going to have to be the bad guy. It’s a sacrifice I am willing to make.
She is going to hate me before she learns to love me again.
I want my children in my life.
And I want her back.
And I always get what I want.
“You’re not going to get away with this, Josiah,” she huffs.
“I have already gotten away with it, sweetheart.”
“I’ll find a way to fight this. I’ll find a loophole or someone who is willing to help,” she scoffs.
“Kayla, the thing about money and power is that when you have enough of it, you can make anything happen. And you can stop anything from happening. You can do whatever you like to try and change the outcome, but this is happening. And you should understand, if you try to get out of your contract with my firm, I will make sure that there isn’t a single company in this city that will touch your job application. I am your only opportunity here.”
“You wouldn’t….” But she can see I would.
I stare at her face, watching the emotions shadow over it. Watching as she bites back her arguments, her pleas, her complaints. She knows better than to try.
She thinks I’m a villain. I guess I am a villain right now. And I’ll play the villain as long as I need to in order to make this work.
And as it turns out, it’s a role I play very well.