Six Months After the Divorce, the Billionaire Boss Gets a Call — “Sir, She Named You as the Father.”

The Unexpected Call from Mercy Hospital

Nathan Reed stared at the New York skyline from his corner office on the 63rd floor. The afternoon sun gleaming off the glass and steel monuments to success that surrounded Reed Tower.

At 42, he had everything money could buy except peace. The phone on his desk rang, shattering his momentary reflection.

His assistant’s voice came through the intercom with a peculiar hesitation that made him sit up straighter.

“Sir, there’s a call from Mercy Hospital. They say it’s urgent.”

“Put them through,” Nathan replied, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair.

Hospitals rarely called with good news.

“Mr. Reed?” a woman’s voice, professional but gentle. “This is Dr. Elaine Porter from Mercy Hospital. I’m calling about Emily Brooks. She’s listed you as the father of her newborn son.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Emily Brooks, his ex-wife. 6 months since their divorce was finalized after 5 years of marriage that had begun with passion and ended with cold silence.

“That’s impossible,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, though no one was there to hear.

“We’ve been divorced for 6 months and before that,” he trailed off, remembering the last bitter year of their marriage.

They had lived more like hostile roommates than husband and wife.

“Mr. Reed, I understand this is unexpected. Ms. Brooks was admitted early this morning with complications. The baby was born premature at 32 weeks. She insisted we contact you.”

Nathan’s mind raced through calculations. If the baby was premature at 32 weeks and it had been 6 months since the divorce, the timing made it possible, barely.

But they had been practically separated for months before that, living under the same roof but orbiting each other like distant planets.

“There must be some mistake,” he said firmly, “or she’s lying.”

The doctor’s voice cooled. “Mr. Reed, Ms. Brooks is currently in recovery. The baby boy is in the NICU. She has no family listed as emergency contacts. You are the only name she provided.”

Nathan closed his eyes. Emily had been estranged from her family for years.

One of the many things they had in common when they met. Two ambitious orphans of circumstance.

They had recognized in each other a kindred determination to succeed at any cost.

“I’ll be there in 30 minutes,” he said finally, then hung up without waiting for a response.

He buzzed his assistant. “Cancel my meetings for the rest of the day. Personal emergency.”

20 minutes later Nathan strode through the sliding doors of Mercy Hospital. His tailored suit and commanding presence causing heads to turn.

At the information desk a young woman looked up, recognition flashing in her eyes. Nathan Reed wasn’t just wealthy. His face regularly appeared in business magazines and local news.

“I’m here about Emily Brooks,” he said without preamble.

The receptionist directed him to the maternity floor. In the elevator Nathan loosened his tie, feeling suddenly constricted.

The last time he had seen Emily was in their divorce lawyer’s office. Both of them signing papers with a detached efficiency that belied their once passionate relationship.

She had looked beautiful even then, her dark hair falling in waves around a face that had grown thinner during their last year together.

There had been a moment, just one, when their eyes met over the signed documents and Nathan had thought he saw something. Regret perhaps, but then it was gone.

Replaced by the cool mask she had perfected during their final months.

Dr. Porter met him at the nurse’s station, a tall woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor.

“Mr. Reed, thank you for coming. Ms. Brooks is resting but stable. The baby was delivered via emergency C-section due to preeclampsia. He’s small, 4 lb 3 oz, but his vitals are strong.”

“I want to see her first,” Nathan said.

The doctor nodded. “She’s in room 418. She’s been through a lot today so please keep the visit brief.”

Nathan found the room easily. He paused at the door, suddenly uncertain.

What did you say to the ex-wife who had just named you the father of her child?

A child that, if the timing was right, had been conceived during their last desperate attempt to save their marriage.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

Emily lay in the hospital bed, her skin pale against the white sheets, dark circles under her closed eyes.

An IV dripped steadily beside her. She looked fragile, a word he would never have associated with the fiercely independent woman he had married.

As if sensing his presence, Emily’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment, confusion clouded her features.

Then recognition dawned, followed by something Nathan couldn’t quite read.

“You came,” she said, her voice raspy.

“You named me as the father of your child. What did you expect?”

His tone was harsher than he’d intended, the shock still reverberating through him. Emily winced.

“I didn’t have anyone else to call.”

“Is it true?” He asked, moving closer to the bed. “Is he mine?”

She held his gaze. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”

Emily turned her face away. “Would you have believed me? We were barely speaking by the end.”

“That night in December,” Nathan said quietly.

Emily nodded. They both remembered it, a rare celebration dinner after Nathan had closed a deal that had been years in the making.

They had drunk expensive champagne, reminisced about better times, and for one night pretended the gulf between them didn’t exist.

They had fallen into bed with the familiarity of longtime lovers and the desperation of people grasping at something already lost.

“I found out I was pregnant 2 weeks after the divorce was finalized,” Emily said.

“I tried to call you but your number had changed.”

“You could have contacted me through the company,” Nathan pointed out, anger beginning to simmer beneath his composed exterior.

“And say what? ‘Sorry to bother you but that night we had pity sex might have resulted in a baby’?”

Emily’s own anger flared. “You made it very clear you wanted a clean break. No alimony, no shared assets, just a surgical removal of me from your life.”

Nathan ran a hand through his hair. “You agreed to those terms eagerly if I recall.”

“I wanted out too,” Emily admitted. “We were making each other miserable.”

A nurse poked her head in. “Ms. Brooks it’s time for your medication. And sir, the doctor mentioned keeping the visit brief.”

Nathan nodded. “I’ll go but we’re not finished with this conversation.”

Emily’s face softened slightly. “Have you seen him?”

“No.”

“Will you before you leave?”

Nathan hesitated. A baby, his son, was somewhere in this hospital.

A tiny person whose existence he’d been unaware of until an hour ago. The thought was overwhelming.

“Yes,” he said finally, “I’ll see him.”

The NICU was a quiet, controlled environment, a stark contrast to the chaos Nathan felt internally.

A nurse led him to an incubator where a tiny form lay connected to monitors.

The baby was impossibly small with translucent skin and a dusting of dark hair that reminded Nathan of Emily.

“You can touch him through these ports,” the nurse explained, indicating the circular openings in the incubator.

Nathan hesitated, then carefully placed his hand through the opening.

With one finger he gently touched the baby’s hand. To his surprise, the tiny fingers reflexively curled around his.

Something shifted in Nathan’s chest, a tightening that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

He stared at the small face searching for any resemblance to himself or Emily.

“Does he have a name?” Nathan asked, not taking his eyes off the baby.

“Not yet,” the nurse replied. “Ms. Brooks wanted to wait.”

As Nathan stood there watching the gentle rise and fall of his son’s chest, his phone buzzed in his pocket. The outside world intruding.

He carefully withdrew his finger from the baby’s grasp and stepped back.

“I have to go,” he told the nurse. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Outside the hospital, Nathan sat in his car, hands gripping the steering wheel.

Emily Brooks, the woman he had once loved enough to marry, the woman he had later barely recognized as they drifted apart, was back in his life.

And she had brought with her a son, his son. The question now was what to do about it.