It was lunchtime, but Gracia was still at her desk. She had a sandwich wrapped in foil, but she hadn't opened it.
Her personal phone buzzed on the desk.
Birdie Calling.
Gracia grabbed it instantly. She looked around. The office was mostly empty, just a few people eating salads at their desks with headphones on.
She answered. "Hey, baby."
"Mommy," Birdie's voice was small and wet. "My tummy hurts. Like the bad hurt."
Gracia's heart stopped. "The bad hurt" meant the cramps that sometimes preceded a seizure.
"Where is Grandma?" Gracia asked, keeping her voice low and calm.
"She went to the pharmacy. She said to wait. But it hurts now."
Gracia checked the time. 12:15 PM. If she left now, she could be there in forty minutes. But she had a meeting with Brenda at 1:00 PM. If she missed it, she was out.
She heard the heavy thud of footsteps on the carpet behind her. A group of people. Men.
She glanced over her shoulder. It was Bridger. He was walking with the CFO and two other suits, heading toward the conference room at the end of the hall. He was ten feet away.
Panic spiked in her chest. If Birdie kept talking, if she mentioned anything specific...
Gracia had to control the narrative. She had to make Birdie sound like a normal child with a normal, present father.
She raised her voice slightly, pitching it so it would carry just enough.
"It's okay, sweetie," she said into the phone. "Don't be scared. Let Daddy come get you, okay?"
On the other end of the line, there was silence. Birdie was confused.
"Daddy?" Birdie whispered.
Gracia saw Bridger's step falter. Just for a fraction of a second. His back stiffened.
He slowed down, his head turning slightly toward her cubicle. His eyes were narrowed, scanning her.
"Yes," Gracia continued, her hand sweating against the plastic phone case. "Daddy is right near the house. I'm calling him right now on the other line. He'll take you to the doctor."
She was acting for an audience of one.
Bridger stopped completely. The CFO stopped with him, looking confused.
Bridger stared at Gracia's back. She could feel his gaze burning through her cheap blazer.
"Okay, Mommy," Birdie said, sounding small and scared but trusting.
"Be a brave girl. Daddy is coming."
Gracia hung up. Her heart was hammering so hard she thought it might bruise her ribs.
She didn't turn around. She stared at her black computer screen, waiting.
Bridger stood there for another five seconds. He was dissecting the conversation. Daddy. So the husband was around. He was involved. He was the one who picked up the sick kid.
A surge of irrational, hot jealousy flooded his veins. He hated this imaginary man. He hated that Gracia relied on him.
"Jennings?" the CFO asked.
Bridger snapped out of it. His face hardened into a mask of stone.
"Let's go," he growled.
He walked past her cubicle without another glance, but the air around him felt turbulent.
Gracia slumped in her chair. She immediately texted her mother: Emergency. Go home now. Birdie is in pain.
She waited until the three dots turned into On my way.
Ten minutes later, an email hit the general inbox.
From: HR General.
Subject: Policy Reminder - Personal Calls.
Effective immediately, all personal calls must be taken outside of the work area. Family matters should not interfere with core business hours. We are a place of business, not a daycare coordination center.
Gracia read the email. Her hands curled into fists.
It was petty. It was cruel. And it was directly aimed at her.
She looked toward the glass office at the end of the hall. Bridger was in there. She couldn't see him, but she knew he had dictated this.
He was punishing her for being a mother. He was punishing her for having a "husband."
Gracia swallowed the lump in her throat. Fine, she thought. You want a war? I can take it. As long as you never find out that you're the Daddy I was talking about.
