I had sponsored a girl from poverty for three years. When she mentioned wanting a summer job, I pulled a few strings to get her an internship at my husband's company.
I never expected that a few months later, she would barge into my office, cradling a visible baby bump, and interrogate me through her tears.
"I knew it all along! You didn't sponsor me out of kindness!" she wailed. "Now that I'm pregnant with Mr. Sawyer's child, he's suddenly vanished. Did you hide him?"
Her brother looked even more ferocious, jabbing a finger in my face. "If it weren't for your fake charity, my sister never would have met that bastard! He got her pregnant and thinks he can just run away? No chance!"
He slammed his hand on my desk. "Either pay up, or divorce him and let my sister be Mrs. Sawyer. You choose!"
The scandal spread like wildfire. Online, a chorus of insults erupted. Everyone accused me of being a pimp, using my charity work as a front to procure mistresses for my husband.
I almost laughed out loud.
If this girl really was pregnant with my husband's child, I'd need to apply for a scientific patent immediately.
——
Red ink bled across the student essay beneath my pen when my office door crashed open.
"You! Matthews! Where is your husband? Did you hide him?"
Alex Donaldson stormed in, murder written across his face. "He knocked up my sister and wants to bail? Keep dreaming!"
Georgia Donaldson stood behind him, hands cradling her stomach like a shield. Her eyes were swollen, ringed with red. Beside her, another girl held up a phone—the red recording light blinking.
Livestreaming.
I set down my pen. "Georgia? Why are you here?"
Her voice cracked with performative sobs. "Ms. Matthews, I really have no other choice. Mr. Sawyer has cut off all contact. I can't find him anywhere…" She sniffled. "And the doctor said my constitution is too weak—I can't have an abortion…"
I leaned back, studying her. The trembling lip. The downcast eyes that wouldn't quite meet mine.
"So? You came here today demanding what, exactly?"
Alex sneered. "Two options! Either Sawyer marries my sister, or you pay up! My sister is a top student at a prestigious university—she was completely ruined by that beast of a husband of yours!"
The girl with the phone turned it toward me, playing to her audience. "Family, look at this! This is Ms. Matthews, supposed to be a role model! She used her charity program to pimp for her own husband! Georgia is so pitiful—she studied her way out of the countryside only to be pushed from the frying pan into the fire!"
Comments scrolled across the screen in a frenzy:
*"Is this real? That teacher looks so quiet, who knew she was a monster?"*
*"The girl looks barely eighteen. Her whole life is over!"*
A crowd of students had gathered at the door, their whispers rising into a low roar. Phones appeared. More cameras. More witnesses.
I stood up, walked to the water cooler, and poured myself a cup. The water was lukewarm. I took a slow, deliberate sip.
"Are you finished?"
Alex's face reddened. "What kind of attitude is that? That's your husband's seed in her belly!"
"Impossible." The paper cup hit the trash bin with a dull thud. "The child she's carrying is absolutely not my husband's."
Georgia's tears spilled instantly, running mascara tracks down her cheeks. "Ms. Matthews, I know it's hard to accept, but it's the truth! That night… Mr. Sawyer got me drunk. When I woke up…" Her breath hitched. "He said he truly liked me…"
"Oh?" I arched a brow. "Dominic Sawyer told you personally that he likes you?"
She nodded vigorously, pulling a stack of photos from her bag and fanning them across my desk. "Here is the evidence. If I'm lying, may heaven strike me down!"
I picked up the top photo.
The angles were calculated—deliberately tricky. But Dominic's profile was unmistakable. Georgia pressed against his side. The timestamp on the hotel surveillance screenshot was clear: one night, three months ago.
"The photos are real," I admitted.
Alex's grin split wide. "See? I told you—"
"But the child isn't my husband's." My voice dropped to ice. "Georgia, take your people and leave. I can treat today's scene as if it never happened. But if you continue to cause trouble, I will call the police."
