Page 141 of Babies for the Big Shot
“You willneverhave to find out, because as you know, I’m not going anywhere.”
My throat tightens again, but this time it’s not from panic. It’s from that strange, overwhelming kind of comfort that only comes from someone who’s seen you through every version of yourself and never once flinched.
I smile into the phone. “I love you.”
“I know. Now hold your head up high, will you? Kick some ass.”
When I step out of the stairwell, I feel… better. Not invincible, not fixed. But steadier. Like I’ve found solid ground beneath the wobble.
I can do this.
Iwilldo this.
I have to.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Nick
The call comes justafter six. Early enough to be serious. Late enough that Jonah has already had time to vet whatever’s landed on his desk.
I take it in the kitchen, phone pressed between shoulder and cheek, one hand braced on the counter.
“She’s moving,” he says. No greeting. No small talk. Just two words that settle in the pit of my stomach, heavy as stone.
“How bad?”
Jonah doesn’t answer immediately, which is answer enough.
“Talk to me.”
“She’s got a draft in queue for Thursday morning. Digital release, top of the front page,Edge’s biggest slot.”
My fingers tighten around the edge of the marble counter. “What does she have?”
“The pregnancy. That it’s triplets. That you and Sara are together, though she doesn’t use the word ‘together,’ she says, ‘embroiled in a high-profile liaison that’s raised more than a few eyebrows in elite circles.’”
I close my eyes. Exhale through my nose. “What else?”
“She refers to Sara as ‘the latest addition to the Ashford dynasty’ and implies you’ve kept her hidden for image control.She mentions your father, the estate. There’s vague but pointed reference to your ‘complicated lineage’ and speculation about a fractured relationship with extended family.”
My jaw tenses. I say nothing.
“She stops short of naming anyone outright,” Jonah adds. “But it’s enough. Anyone who’s followed your family for more than a decade will know where to look. What threads to pull.”
“And her source?”
“One. Anonymous. Cited as ‘close to the family,’which could mean anything from an ex-gardener to someone who once stood next to you in a photograph.”
I stare out the window, watching the first edge of sunrise cut between buildings. It should feel steadying. It doesn’t.
“She wants comment?” I ask.
“She’s requested it. Says she’s holding the story for one business day to give you the opportunity. That she’s trying to be fair.”
I let out a humorless breath. “Fair.”
“She’s playing with theater,” Jonah says. “She wants a reaction.”
