Chapter 6

"Mrs. Hayden, I'm serious too," I said, my voice turning cold. "Tell me, how much do you think your precious grandchild is worth? Is 30 million dollars enough?

"Or 60 million dollars? The Hayden family's supposed to be all high and mighty, right? I bet that fancy bloodline of yours is worth a fortune, huh?"

"Clara, don't push your luck," Sharon said, her voice finally cracking. "You think just because you had this baby, you can waltz into the Hayden family? Let me tell you, Nicholas is already seeing the daughter of the Clark family. You—"

I cut her off. "Mrs. Hayden, let me stop you right there. First, I never wanted to join the Hayden family. That door's way too narrow for me. I'd probably get stuck trying to squeeze through.

"Second, whoever Nicholas is seeing has nothing to do with me. Even if he marries an alien tomorrow, I'll still send him a wedding gift. Third, this baby is mine. I'm not selling him. Got it?"

Sharon was furious. "You—"

I said, "Mrs. Hayden, I have work to do, so I'll hang up now. Hope you stay healthy and get everything you want, and maybe hold your grandchild soon. But sorry, this one's off-limits. It's my child."

I hung up, my hand still trembling.

I wasn't shaking from fear. I was mad as hell.

Harry poked his head out from the kitchen. "What's up?"

I replied, "Nothing. My ex-mother-in-law just called, trying to buy my baby."

Harry went quiet for a moment, then silently pulled a kitchen knife out from under his pillow.

"Harry, put that down!" I hurried over and grabbed his arm. "Chill out! This is a country of laws, okay?"

"She's bullying you," he said.

"She's not bullying me. I pissed her off big time," I said, snatching the knife from his hand. "Seriously, what are you gonna do, storm the Hayden family with a kitchen knife? You're a soldier, you can't break the law."

Harry paused, then set the knife down and grabbed his phone.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He replied, "I'm calling my buddy. After leaving the military, he joined the police force. I'll have him see if the Hayden family has any criminal record."

I said, "Harry, it's a step up from the knife, but it's still not really legal."

Harry ignored me and dialed the number.

I sighed and rubbed my belly.

I said, "Little Bean, your uncle is a real badass. If anyone ever tries to mess with you, he'll grab a kitchen knife. Wait, scratch that, he'll use the law to protect you."

*****

At eighteen weeks pregnant, I felt my baby move for the first time. It was like a tiny fish blowing bubbles inside me, a gentle little pop.

I was sitting at my drawing desk, pencil in hand, when I suddenly paused.

Then, another little pop.

I looked down at my belly, and suddenly, tears started falling out of nowhere.

"Little Bean?" I whispered. "Is that you moving?"

My belly gave another little pop, like it was answering me.

I started crying even harder, my face a mess of tears and snot.

Harry came rushing out of the kitchen, spatula in hand, looking all worried. "What's wrong? Is your stomach hurting?"

I sniffled. "No. The baby. The baby just moved."

Harry's face went from worried to confused, then to something I couldn't even begin to understand.

He set the spatula down, crouched in front of me, and gently placed his hand on my belly.

After a moment, Little Bean moved again.

Harry's hand trembled. His eyes filled with tears.

My cousin, a six-foot-tall tough guy who never blinked even with bullets flying, actually got teary-eyed from feeling a baby move inside me.

"It kicked me," he said, his voice hoarse.

"That's not a kick. It's saying hi," I corrected him.

Harry said seriously, "It's got some real strength. Like a little soldier."

I joked, "Can you not turn everything into a military thing?"

But Harry didn't listen. He whipped out his phone and called Mom. "Aunt Sophie, the baby just moved! It's got some real strength. I bet it's gonna be a soldier someday."

I couldn't catch what Mom said on the other end, but I was pretty sure she was chewing him out.

Life went on quietly for a few weeks until Nicholas showed up again.

This time, he didn't come alone. He brought his assistant, a young lawyer with gold-rimmed glasses and a briefcase, clearly here to cause trouble.

When they showed up, I was in my pajamas, drawing in my studio, my hair was messy, and pencil marks still smeared all over my face.

Harry opened the door.

When Nicholas saw the six-foot-one, buzz-cut, broad-shouldered guy standing there, he was stunned for a second.

"Hello, I'm here to see Clara," Nicholas said, flashing a businesslike smile.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, like he was grilling a suspect.

"I'm Nicholas Hayden, Clara's ex-husband," Nicholas said.

Harry gave him a once-over, his eyes cold as ice and sharp as an X-ray. "So you're Nicholas Hayden?"