I slept better than I had in months.
The next morning, I started packing.
I opened the closet and stopped. Two of Graham’s suits still hung in the corner.
Pine. His cologne. It hit me before I could brace for it.
Everything I’d packed away in my head came rushing back.
I closed my eyes.
I had no interest in keeping his things, but I wasn’t going to trash them either.
I boxed everything up before I packed for my flight.
Not much, but every piece cost more than my rent.
Better to send it all straight to him.
While I waited for the courier, I texted Graham to let him know the box was coming.
The message failed. Not Delivered. A red exclamation point sat right next to the bubble.
It took a second to sink in.
He’d blocked me.
Graham, who thought blocking people was petty and beneath him, had blocked me.
I scrolled up. He’d been messaging me every day that week. I just hadn’t looked.
[Three days. Rest up. Then meet me at the café downstairs from the office.]
[Talked to Camille. She’ll give you the full commission. She just needs her name listed as the project lead.]
[I’m traveling for work the next few days. You’re pregnant, Mara. Take care of yourself, even if you hate me right now.]
[Who was your point person on the Briarfield project? I need their contact.]
[Are you doing this on purpose?]
…
[Last chance. If I don’t hear from you by morning, we’re done.]
That last one was sent at two a.m.
So his big follow-through was blocking me.
Childish. Not like him at all.
My phone buzzed again.
Graham’s mother.
Against my better judgment, I picked up.
Her voice was warm. It always was, at first.
“Mara, dear. You’ve met Camille by now, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
“Good. She’s Reginald Sutton’s daughter. She and Gray go way back. They grew up together and dated in school. The two of them never really…”
I cut her off.
“Mrs. Whitaker, just say what you called to say.”
The warmth vanished.
“Men have needs. Gray wanted you, so I looked the other way.”
“At least you were low-maintenance. Quiet. Less trouble than the others.”
“The Whitakers only ever have one heir per generation. When I mentioned a baby, I was being generous. I never actually expected you to go through with it.”
Every word landed like she was handing me a check and spitting on it at the same time.
“I know what you’ve been doing: going silent, making him chase you.”
“But Cami and Gray are engaged. If you’re smart, you’ll stop trying to be Mrs. Whitaker.”
“When the baby comes, the family will take custody. But the marriage? And that branch manager nonsense he promised you? Forget it.”
For a split second, I almost hoped Camille would marry into that family.
One attacked you to your face. The other smiled while she did it.
If those two ever turned on each other, Graham’s life would be a circus.
She took my silence for hesitation.
“Name your price. The child gets the Whitaker name, and we’ll set up a trust. As for you, you’ll need to relocate. Out of the country.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“…Excuse me? So you’re really going to dig your heels in?”
“No. The day I walked away from Graham, I terminated the pregnancy.”
“So don’t worry. I’m not clinging to anything.”
The sound that came through the phone was barely human.
“What… what did you just say?”
“Don’t call me again. I’m done with Graham, and I’m done with your family.”
“You… you monster.”
“That was my grandchild! That baby was a Whitaker!”
Her voice cracked into something raw and ugly.
I hung up.
Blocked her number. Deleted the contact.
Two hours later, I was in the air.
The wheels left the ground, and for the first time in weeks, the weight in my chest lifted with them.