Toxic Truths and Bleak Choices

Clara

My thumb trembles so badly across the glass screen that I nearly misdial Sloane’s contact. In my entire life, I don’t think I’ve ever felt rage quite like this—a white-hot fury that blots out every other memory in my head.

“Hello?” Sloane picks up on the very first ring, her voice dripping with a sugary, artificial warmth that grates on my nerves.

“Sloane,” I say, skipping the pleasantries entirely. “Is Trent standing there with you right now?”

Heavy silence stretches across the connection for a beat too long before she lets out a flimsy laugh. “What? No, of course he isn’t.”

“Drop the act, Sloane. Do you honestly believe I’m still blind to the garbage the two of you have been pulling?” I snap, pressing the phone harder against my ear. “I’m not a total fool.”

“Clara, just hear me out—” she starts, clearly scrambling to piece together some pathetic alibi.

“Save it. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about your dirty little affair anymore, so just put him on the line right now,” I demand, keeping my voice hard and unyielding.

Another silence falls over the receiver, and when Sloane speaks again, the syrupy innocence is completely gone. “You couldn’t care less?” she echoes, genuine disbelief sharpening her tone. “You already heard that I’m pregnant?”

That particular revelation hits me straight in the chest. I curl my free hand into a tight fist at my side, squeezing the phone so hard in the other that the plastic casing feels ready to crack under my fingers. “And what is that supposed to be—some kind of prize you won?” I fire back bitterly. “Have you told him about this baby yet? Because a coward so terrified of being a father that he secretly poisoned my body for years won’t hesitate to do the exact same thing to the next woman.”

“Well, not yet, no, but he actually loves me, Clara—he would never—” she stammers, rushing to defend him.

“He swore he loved me once upon a time, too,” I cut in coldly. “It’s honestly incredible how well he plays the charming boyfriend when he’s rotten to the core. And how exactly do you expect him to pay for you and a newborn when the bastard doesn’t even hold down a job?”

“Yes, he does!” she shoots back indignantly. “He only kept his career hidden from you so you wouldn’t leech off his paycheck. Trent works as a stockbroker.”

“Oh, Sloane,” I let out a heavy, humorless breath. “Poor, naive, clueless Sloane. If Trent is a licensed stockbroker, then I’m a practicing sorcerer.”

“Quit speaking to me like I’m stupid! The man has plenty of cash—he buys me expensive things constantly!” she insists, her voice rising defensively.

“Using stolen credit lines he opened under my name!” I yell into the speaker, the last shred of my self-control snapping completely.

“What?” she squeaks, the wind knocked right out of her sails.

“You heard me. I just tore open the past-due notices ten minutes ago—he has completely wiped me out and left me bankrupt. I’m heading straight to the police station, and if you have half a brain left, you’ll pull up your own credit report today, because I’d bet my last dollar you’re his next mark,” I bark.

“No,” she whispers, sounding far less certain now. “You’ve got it twisted. Things aren’t like that between him and me.”

My throat tightens with a sudden, choking wave of emotion, making my voice thicken despite my best efforts to stay cold. “Truthfully, I don’t give a damn what happens to you anymore, Sloane, but if there’s really a child growing inside you, that kid deserves better than growing up in a city shelter—and that’s the exact place Trent is going to leave both of you.”

I jab the red icon to end the call before the burning tears in my eyes can spill over and let her hear me break down. How on earth did I swallow his endless excuses about hunting for employment for so many months? Piece by piece, he dismantled my life while wearing a gentle, loving smile, and I stood right there and let him do it.

Never again, I swear silently, wiping my cheek with the back of my hand. Nobody is ever going to play me for a fool like that for the rest of my days.

Making Trent pay for what he’s done is still high on my list, yet salvaging the wreckage of my own survival has to come first. Clearing my name of this crushing debt means going straight to law enforcement, because bringing a baby into this world while completely bankrupt is impossible—and right now, my only prayer is that the authorities will actually step in and help me.

________________________

“I’m very sorry, Miss Vance, but since your former partner has already skipped town, our hands are pretty much tied here.” The desk officer delivers the verdict with about as much empathy as a man stepping on a beetle on the sidewalk. “I can print out an incident number for you to forward to the lenders, yet that’s as far as our department can take this.”

Hot indignation surges right up to my throat. There is zero doubt in my mind that this cop would never brush off my complaint with such lazy indifference if I weren’t a broke, out-of-work nanny standing on the wrong side of his counter. Walk a billionaire like Kaelen Thorne through those front doors, and this same officer would practically drop to his knees, moving heaven and earth to track down every missing cent. Clenching my teeth so I don’t scream in his face and get myself locked in a holding cell, I turn on my heel, march out onto the pavement, and immediately start dialing the fraud departments printed on the billing statements.

Every single representative I speak to drives another nail into my coffin, informing me flatly that until the police physically cuff and charge a suspect, the full balance of every single card remains legally mine to pay.

When the final customer service line clicks dead, it genuinely feels as though the concrete sidewalk is giving way beneath my shoes. How did my entire life collapse into total ruin in the span of forty-eight hours? Everything I worked for is gone. Without a glowing reference from Mrs. Hayes, not a single reputable family or agency will touch my resume, leaving me with zero income to cover next month’s rent or put groceries in the fridge. Under normal circumstances, I’d lean on Tessa until I got back on my feet, yet piling my financial disaster onto her shoulders when her own career is hanging by a thread is out of the question.

Tomorrow afternoon is my scheduled appointment at the clinic to find out if the procedure took, and until I opened my mailbox today, the quiet, unfamiliar shift inside my body over the past several days felt like a warm beacon of hope. Explaining the sensation is nearly impossible; nothing looks different in the mirror, yet deep in my bones sits an unshakable, instinctual certainty that I’m simply not the same woman who walked into that exam room last week.

Days ago, I welcomed that intuition as proof that a new life had begun, whereas now I’m desperately begging the universe for it to be nothing more than an overactive imagination playing tricks on my nerves.

Back inside my quiet living room, I grab the remote and flick on the television just to fill the suffocating silence, only to go rigid when Kaelen Thorne’s unmistakable face fills the broadcast. “Once our renovations conclude, the Moon Hollow children’s home will stand as a true sanctuary of warmth and support, dedicated to matching every vulnerable child with a permanent, loving family,” he says smoothly into the cluster of microphones. “Our foundation isn’t merely upgrading the daily living standards for the kids currently in residence; we’re establishing long-term oversight with adoptive parents to guarantee every child continues to flourish long after placement.”

What a masterclass in public relations from the great humanitarian, I think, a bitter taste rising in my mouth. He stands under the studio lights playing savior to the underprivileged while casually crushing the livelihoods of ordinary working women behind closed doors without a second thought. Seven days ago, watching a speech like that would have genuinely moved me, especially since Tessa and I grew up inside a bleak, underfunded state orphanage ourselves and know firsthand how brutal those places really are. Looking at him today, though, the only thing staring back at me is sickening hypocrisy. My sister grew up an orphan just like those kids at Moon Hollow, and she didn’t do a single thing wrong—so where was his noble mercy when he demanded her job? Reserved strictly for the evening news, apparently. It’s honestly chilling how believable his act is, though Trent managed to fool me just as thoroughly.

Then again, Trent never possessed an ounce of Kaelen Thorne’s striking, sharp-cut features, nor did he command a room with that sheer, suffocating authority. Never in my life have I crossed paths with a man built like him. Even yesterday afternoon, while he was tearing into me, rejecting my pleas, and ordering his staff to haul me off his property, some traitorous part of my brain was still completely spellbound by his dark good looks and raw, undeniable pull.

Giving my head a sharp shake, I mash the power button on the remote and plunge the screen into darkness. Have I completely lost my mind? The man is a ruthless, cold-blooded mogul who helped wreck my life, and here I sit staring at his broadcast like some lovesick teenager.

Exhausted to the marrow, I crawl under the covers long before my usual bedtime, hoping sleep will block out what awaits me tomorrow. Naturally, midnight comes and goes while I stare wide-eyed at the dark ceiling, haunted by the grim reality of what growing up unwanted in the system actually feels like—and knowing in my gut that I could never bring a baby into this world only to surrender it to that same cold, loveless fate. With every hour that my finances unravel further, the choices left in front of me narrow down to a brutal edge.

If tomorrow’s test comes back positive… am I actually going to terminate the pregnancy, destroying the one dream I’ve ached for my whole life?