Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 61160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
The book's cover read, “The Prince and Princess of Rogue Publishing.”
I trailed my finger against Chloe’s cheeks and sighed.
The door to my office suddenly opened, and I braced for another executive.
No one from my staff stepped through the doorway, though.
It was Hazel.
“Oh, I…” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
“I don’t see why I wouldn’t be.” I set down the book. “There are a shit ton of fires to put out. All thanks to you.”
“I owe you an apology.”
“You can keep it.”
“I was acting out of emotion,” she said. “I didn’t think they would take things this far.”
“No, you knew they would.” I clenched my jaw. “You wanted to hurt her, and you did. You wanted to destroy her alone, but you destroyed everything instead.”
“I thought you liked me.”
“I tolerated you,” I said. “As a ‘barely there’ co-CEO and colleague.”
“I can put out another statement if you like. I can fix this.”
“You’ve done more than enough. Be sure to grab whatever you need from your office on your way out.”
“Wait.” Her face paled. “You were serious about me resigning from the company I made successful?”
“No, Chloe made it successful,” I said. “You were using her the entire time. That’s neither here or there, though. You have until this evening to sign the letter I wrote for you.” I glared at her. “Or else.”
“Or else what?”
“I’ll give the press a very good reason to harass you, so you can get a taste of how you fucked with Chloe.”
“Fine.” She sucked in a breath and grabbed her binder. “If that’s how it has to be.”
“It is.”
She left the room without another word, and I still sent letters to the press about Hazel anyway.
I didn’t owe her anything.
I owed Chloe.
Some Things Don’t Change
Chloe
30 weeks pregnant
“Chloe?” Kristin hit the lights in the guest room. “Chloe, what the hell are you doing?”
I groaned and adjusted the pillow behind my head, looking up at the ceiling. The babies were relentlessly kicking and punching my stomach, preventing me from getting any sleep.
It’s as if they could tell something was wrong. Their usual routine was long gone.
Kristin slumped down onto the floor next to me, wiping my eyes with her fingertips.
“Do I need to get you a doctor?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Can I ask you for something without you judging me?”
“Does it involve giving you your cell phone?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re still front page news, Tyler is still calling every half hour, and he’s also texting me and Madison.”
“I don’t need you to give it to me,” I said. “There are videos in my ‘Thirties’ album, in my cloud. Can you play the latest one as loud as it can go?”
She pulled it from her pajama pocket and tapped the screen.
Within seconds, Tyler’s voice filled the room.
“Your mother isn’t talking to me right now, but she’s always insisted that I read a new short book to you every night,” he said. “I don’t even think you can hear my voice, but since I don’t want to miss a night, I’m sending these via video so she can play them for you.”
The babies’ kicks and punches slowed, and I rubbed my stomach like Tyler would do if he were really here.
“This is Goodnight Moon. Spoiler alert, it has absolutely zero plot, and I will be banning your mother from selecting any new books in the future.”
Kristin set the phone on my chest and lay next to me, and the babies calmed as Tyler read them five more stories.
An Unwanted Reunion
Tyler
Seattle, Washington
Chloe: Your babies are as big as butternut squashes now. 17-18 inches. 5 lbs. Congratulations on reaching a new week.
Me: Is this really Chloe texting me? Or is this Kristin?
Chloe: Kristin.
I tossed my phone onto the sofa.
Unable to take the sight of my place without Chloe in it, I grabbed my jacket and took the lift to the garage.
When the doors glided open, I spotted my security guards arguing with someone near the exit. I was about to ignore it, but the person’s tone was unmistakable.
Father?
“Mr. Carrington has made it more than clear that you’re not welcome here, sir,” one of them said.
“He’s my fucking son.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re not allowed to let you inside.”
“You can let him by this time,” I said. “I’m on my way out, anyway.”
They stepped out of the way and let him through.
“How did you know where I lived?” I asked.
“It’s not hard to find with news crews everywhere…”
“Oh, yes.” I rolled my eyes. “What a perk.”
“Your stepmother said you mentioned something about being dead soon.”
“I said I was dead to you and the family,” I said. “Then again, maybe I should figure out a way to fake my death. Since you’re hell bent on planning a new royal event, I’m sure you’ll do wonders with my funeral.”
“I’m sure you’d want a private one, correct?”