The timestamps? They’re from four, five years ago. Way before we met.
Jake swipes to another screen—account details.
Linked recovery email :[email protected]
Nora’s actual work email.
My stomach lurches.
No.
No way.
I get up and turn to leave, but Jake stops me. “Don’t walk away from this, Max.”
I whirl on him.
“Oh, I’m not walking away,” I bite out. “I’m shutting you down.”
He lifts both hands, all mock-innocence. “I thought you’d want to know. You’re welcome, by the way.”
I step closer. “You sat on this? For how long?”
Jake blinks. Doesn’t even pretend to deny it. “I’ve had it a while.”
“And you waited—what? Until things got serious between me and Nora? Until you could do the most damage?” My voice drops into something colder. “Why now?”
He shrugs, smooth as always. “Thought you’d figure it out on your own. But love makes people blind. Stupid.”
Something behind my ribs tightens.
“She’s not like that,” I say quietly. “Whatever that post was, it’s old. Anonymous. Could’ve been anyone using that email.”
Jake just tilts his head. “You really think that? Or do you just want to?”
I clench my jaw. Hard. The weight of everything—of what I’ve built with Nora—presses into my spine, demanding I hold the line.
“She didn’t come after me,” I say. “She didn’t even know who I was when we met.”
“You sure about that?” he shoots back. “Because you’re not just some guy—you’re Max fucking Donovan. Some girls play the long game. Sooner or later, she’s gonna drop the baby news. Trust me.”
I clench my fists under the table.
“She’s not pregnant,” I say firmly. “We’re careful. That’s not something we want right now.”
Jake’s mouth curves into a humorless smile. “Maybe not somethingyouwant.”
My pulse thuds like a warning drum.
“She’snotpregnant,” I say again.
Jake shrugs like it’s inevitable. “Just remember this conversation when she drops the news. And when she does?” He taps the side of his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I push back from the table so fast the legs screech against the floor. I can’t sit here another second, can’t breathe the same air as him.
“You don’t get to talk about her,” I snarl. “Not like that. Not ever.”
He doesn’t move.
