I need to talk to her. Need to make sure she’s actually okay with this pregnancy and not just going along with what we want.
I head out of my office toward her room. The hallway is quiet, and most of the staff are occupied with their afternoon tasks. When I reach her door, I hear her voice.
She’s on the phone.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she says, voice tight with stress. “You don’t understand the pressure I’m under.”
I pause outside the door, not quite eavesdropping but not announcing myself either.
“I know what I promised,” she continues. “But everything’s different now. I can’t just—” She stops. Listens. “No. No, I’m not backing out. I just need more time.”
Silence.
“I have to go.” Her voice drops lower. “I’ll call you later. Goodbye.”
I knock and push open the door.
She’s sitting on her bed, phone in her hand, face pale.
“Were you on a call?” I ask casually.
“What?” She shoves the phone into her pocket. “No. No, I wasn’t on a call.”
The lie is immediate. Reflexive. And completely transparent.
I just heard her say goodbye to someone, and now she’s telling me she wasn’t on the phone.
“Are you sure?” I step into the room. “I thought I heard you talking.”
“I was just—I was thinking out loud. Practicing what to say for a work presentation.” She’s talking too fast, words tumbling over each other. “You know how I get when I’m nervous about client calls.”
Another lie.
I’ve watched her handle client calls. She’s confident, prepared, and never nervous enough to pace her room, rehearsing presentations.
“Alright.” I let it go. “I wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re feeling okay after this morning.”
“I’m fine.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Just tired.”
“Samantha.” I move closer. “If something’s wrong, you can tell me. You know that, right?”
For a moment, she looks like she might actually confess whatever she’s hiding. Her eyes fill with tears, and her mouth opens. Then she closes it and shakes her head. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just adjusting to everything. The pregnancy, the changes. It’s a lot.”
“It is a lot,” I agree. “But we’re here. Whatever you need, we’ll handle it together.”
“Thank you.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
I pull her into a hug, and she clings to me like I’m the only solid thing in her world. I hold her until her breathing steadies, then kiss the top of her head. “Get some rest. Doctor’s appointment is tomorrow morning.”
“Okay.”
I leave her there and head back to my office with more questions than answers.
Who was she talking to? Who is she promising things to? What pressure is she under that she can’t tell us about?
My first thought is Logan. Maybe she’s been in contact with him. Maybe he knows about the pregnancy and is demanding something. Money. Access. Revenge for how things ended.
The thought makes my jaw tighten. If Logan is harassing her, I’ll handle it. Permanently.
