The “Cancer Research Project” had been my father’s pride and joy. He’d devoted his life to helping people, and this project was meant to develop new treatments that could actually save lives.
I’d worked through my pregnancy, keeping the project going for months. It was only right before giving birth, when everything was finally starting to fall into place, that I allowed myself to breathe a little.
When I got to the company, my assistant was sweating like she’d run a marathon.
“Miss Genevieve, Mr. Sinclair has handed everything over to Miss Anastasia. Big, small… we don’t even know what’s happening inside.”
I said quietly, steady as I could, “It’s fine. Take me to the president’s office. I know the password to Jordan’s computer.”
Before I could move, Anastasia appeared, blocking the hallway.
“Miss Genevieve, wait,” her chest puffed out, lips swollen and red. I could see hickeys on her neck. She looked… untouchable.
“You can’t go in without the president’s say-so,” she added, her tone dripping with fake authority.
“Move. This is my project. I’ve overseen it from the start, and I have the right to check it myself.”
She narrowed her eyes and hissed, “You let this slide during your pregnancy, and now you want to swoop in and claim it?!”
I stared at her, my jaw tight. “You think you can steal months of work? You think it just falls into your lap? There’s no free lunch.”
She couldn’t stop me. She couldn’t. In her frustration, she started blurting everything she felt, like a child lashing out.
Just then, Jordan arrived, looking flustered. “Genn… why are you here already? You didn’t wait for me.”
I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Busy playing house with her, weren’t you? How could you even care about me right now?
I handed him a stack of documents. “Look at this, Jordan. Every original sample, every imported material for the treatments… it’s been swapped for cheap junk. Who changed the suppliers and pocketed the difference?”
He glanced at the papers and frowned, clearly realizing something was off.
Anastasia’s face was drained of color. “I… it’s nothing to do with President Sinclair. I just… I wanted extra money for my son. I didn’t think it would go this far. I’m sorry, Miss Genevieve…”
“Sorry? Sorry doesn’t cut it. You’re committing fraud. I’m calling the authorities.”
Before I could even finish, a small figure barreled into me, throwing me off balance.
“Mom! Don’t let her hurt you! Dad, make him pay!”
I froze.
Blair Evan Sinclair.
The hit wasn’t hard, but I’d just given birth a month ago. My body was still weak. When that little body slammed into me, pain shot through my stomach and I couldn’t stop the groan that escaped my throat. My vision blurred for a second.
The whole office went quiet.
Jordan rushed over like some heroic husband. “Genn, hey, look at me. Are you hurt? Does it hurt anywhere? Tell me.”
His hands hovered near my shoulders but didn’t really touch me.
Anastasia quickly pulled Blair behind her, wrapping her arms around him like she was shielding him from danger.
“Evan, that’s not polite,” she said gently, but there was no real anger in her voice. “You can’t push people like that. Say sorry to Auntie.”
Auntie? Me? Wow.
Then she looked at me with those watery eyes. “Miss Genevieve, please don't be upset. Don’t take it out on a child. He’s just protective of his mom.”
Protective.
Before I could even respond, Jordan spoke first. “Genn, don’t be harsh on him. He’s just a kid. He doesn’t understand adult matters.”
He turned to Anastasia. “Take Evan downstairs. I’ll talk to Genevieve. He didn’t mean anything by it.”
Didn’t mean anything?
I looked straight into Jordan’s eyes. “Explain what, exactly?” I asked slowly. “Explain why he called me a bad woman? Or explain why he called you Dad?”
The air turned heavy.
For a second, Jordan’s face stiffened. Then he forced a smile. “You’re overthinking. Kids call anyone they’re close to Dad sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Really?
I couldn’t stand there and watch them act anymore. I turned and walked out.
Jordan chased after me. “Genevieve, why are you making this a big deal? He’s six! You’re arguing with a six year old now?”
I stopped walking.
Six years old and already that vicious. Who taught him that? Who let him think I was the enemy? Was that not their responsibility?
I clenched my fists. “Kids don’t come up with that kind of hatred on their own. They learn it.”
His expression shifted instantly. He frowned like I’d offended him. “What are you implying? That he’s mine? Genevieve, that’s ridiculous! I only have one child. Our daughter.”
He said it so smoothly. So naturally.
Even now, he was lying.
I let out a laugh that didn’t sound like mine. “Then what’s our daughter’s name?”
He froze.
“You haven’t even named her yet, have you?”
He opened his mouth but nothing came out.
I remembered the name he’d once written in his memo. I’d seen it by accident months ago. He’d written, I hope my child grows up proud and unbreakable. The name attached to that wish had been meant for our baby.
And now that name belonged to Anastasia’s son.
I looked at him steadily. “Her name is Jennifer.”
He swallowed. His eyes flickered with something I couldn’t read, then he softened again, slipping back into that gentle tone.
“Jennifer,” he repeated with a small smile. “That’s beautiful. Bright and warm. Just like you. She’ll always light up your life.”
He reached out like he wanted to touch my hair.
I stepped back slightly.
“I’ve got a business trip for a few days,” he continued, like nothing had happened. “When I get back, we’ll talk properly. I’ll make things clearer for you.”
“Of course,” I cut in. “Work’s important.”
I didn’t wait for him to finish. I walked away.
