Chapter 1

For three years, I was nothing more than Jefferson Whitfield's bedmate.

Every time it ended, he would head to the shower alone, tossing the same line over his shoulder.

He said, "You're easy to be with. Don't overthink it. We're just giving each other what we need."

A week later, staring at the two lines on the pregnancy test, I ended things without hesitation.

Later, I sat alone in the hospital after the procedure.

The woman beside me struck up a conversation. "Why are you here by yourself? Where's your partner?"

I said, "We broke up."

She sighed. "Men are all the same. Just find someone decent. Don't be so picky."

I kept my voice calm. "Marriage is the only family you get to choose in this life. If I have to settle for that, then what's the point of living at all?"

A cold voice cut in from behind. "Other than me, who else are you planning to choose?"

I paused and then lifted my eyes, looking indifferent. "What we had is over. Now we go our separate ways."

*****

The day I found out I was pregnant, I ended up at the private club Jefferson owned.

I wasn't there for him.

After our project team dinner, he told me to bring his car keys over, said he'd had too much to drink and would just let his driver take him home.

I was standing outside the private room, about to push the door open, when my hand froze in mid-air.

There were voices coming from inside. "Mr. Whitfield, you always bring that ops manager with you. What's up with that?"

Jefferson swirled his glass lazily. "She's handy. It's just convenient to have her around."

Someone teased, "Handy? In what way exactly?"

He took a sip, grinning carelessly. "Her mind's sharp; her body's even sharper. That's mutual benefit. She's smart and knows exactly what she's doing."

A wave of suggestive laughter filled the room.

"What if she gets serious about you?" someone joked.

Jefferson paused, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the weather. "Serious? Just hand her some money and let her leave with a bit of dignity.

"Someone from her kind of background is easy to deal with."

Another chimed in, "Yeah, for a small-town girl who studied her way out of nowhere, landing you is like her ancestors are smiling down on her."

Jefferson just smiled, saying nothing.

My hand instinctively reached for the pregnancy report in my bag. That flimsy piece of paper felt like a hot potato right now.

Inside, the conversation kept going.

"Honestly, she's got some great skills. Even your grandpa didn't think that project would work, but she managed to pull it off."

Jefferson just hummed. "That's why she's so useful. She's got a clear head; she's pretty, and she doesn't make a fuss. She does whatever I ask."

"How long are you planning to use her?" someone asked.

"When I get tired of her, I'll decide if she stays or goes," Jefferson said.

Then someone changed the subject. "By the way, Brisa's coming back next week. Isn't your family always trying to match you two up?"

Jefferson stayed silent.

After a few seconds, someone tried to smooth things over. "Mr. Whitfield knows what he's doing. The Trevino family and the Whitfield family are well-matched, and Brisa's a suitable marriage partner."

Jefferson finally spoke, his voice unreadable. "Brisa is Brisa. Shannon's Shannon. They're two different stories."

"So, Mr. Whitfield, are you planning to keep both—a wife and a side piece? Living the dream, huh?"

Jefferson just laughed, offering no reply.

Hearing that laugh, I suddenly felt utterly worn out, a weariness that was both sad and bone-deep.

I was so exhausted that I couldn't even bring myself to push the door open.

I handed the car keys to the attendant at the entrance, asked him to hand them over, and walked away.

As I stepped out of the private club, the cool night air hit me.

I leaned against a streetlight, staring at the pregnancy test results for a long time.

At the bottom, the diagnosis read "Early pregnancy".

The diagnosis was right there in black and white, but damn, it hurt to look at.

I grabbed my phone and did the math.

The abortion would run me about 1,000 to 2,000 dollars.

Taking three days off work would cost me another 1,300 dollars in lost wages.

And I'd need another 700 dollars for post-op care.

Altogether, it was not even 4,000 dollars

After tallying it all up in my head, I ripped the pregnancy report to shreds and tossed it in the trash.

Then I opened my notes app and started making a list.

First, finish the project report by next Monday.

Second, set aside the year-end bonus for Mom's medical expenses this year.

Third, the apartment lease ended in early March. Time for a fresh start in a new city.

My thoughts were slowly coming together.

Back home, I made myself a cup of coffee and opened my laptop to update my resume.

It had been three years.

It was time to move on.

I typed out a text to Jefferson: [Let's break up.]

The city lights were blazing outside. I hit the last key on the keyboard and leaned back in my chair.

Suddenly, I thought back to the first time I met Jefferson.

Three years ago, it was at a company project meeting.