THE BILLIONAIRE'S SECRET SON: BETRAYAL AND BLOODLINE

station is supposed to

r walked in my sh

It was terror, a creeping, inviting terror that burrowe

ant two weeks after

as if mocking me. The illness wasn't running sickness-it was fear churning in my sto

just one

e the plutocrat dissolved like a bank. Damien-a name I vaguely recalled. I didn

obbling and exhaling like I'd learned in some compositi

gna

o myself as if

r, her scarf draped over the table, her Bible lying open on the spirituals, and her slippers set in careful li

od and call

voice came alive at the other end

d the news broke.

a long shriek. Hold on, "I w

n she saw my face; she just went on in and hugged me. It was the first time I had allowe

he settee, her shoulder under my head as t

ea what you are goin

t have a job, no family, and no plutocrat.

ve me,"

ragging you

did not drag me in. I walked by myself. You a

road in front of me seemed to have no judgment, no direct

eed when I could not feel my own strength. My mornings were a blur of nausea and dry toast. Fried oil painting smelled

y job that would pay the rent and antenatal vitamins. But the mo

lthy," one director murmured, his smil

not hire someone who will be out on

ners. I waited in long lines at food banks and walked long distances to the public clinic just to get a checkup. Ever

ing too thin. Defended landlords and indeed stood up to a gangster on the road who tried to

h back to the nig

rectly over my bed. I was in bed, soaked to the bone, shivering, cling

was cut off. Kattie worked at home with

screamed into my pillow, punched it, and smelled it. I cursed Damien for h

that I decided not

ped my face,

an honest job, and I would raise my child

rious, but it was safe. They had nurses, counselors, and food. I got settled in my six

day, but with every kick inside my belly, I k

one night as we folded and bestowed bab

ho

The in Che

ed, "Occa

ou mis

fter, "but I wonder. What if he had s

they have five other girls? You got what you demanded th

as a memory-a mistake th

ch his face in my dreams, those black eyes surveying me like he formerly knew th

ha

s name until the n

fort, no private room for me. Just me, sweat, p

at the top of my lungs, blood in my eyes, and thi

ming with further inten

ed him on my chest, t

mine, brown

ur mummy,

t strong, firm, and enduring. All the

later with a teddy bea

e laughed and crie

an. "He came beforehand

my forehead. "You did it,

why his skin is the color of fried coffee and his hair the gold of the sun, I fla

save

arding him from the truth, from the wo

me a night of Pluto Crate and