I Hid My Secret Son From My Ex-Fiancé For Seven Years — Now I Have To Work For Him
Part 1
I tightened my grip on the handle of my suitcase, staring at the glossy marble floor of the hotel lobby.
The city skyline outside the sliding glass doors looked exactly the same as it did seven years ago.
Returning to this place was a mistake.
Tyler tugged at the hem of my jacket, his small fingers sticky from the cherry lollipop he was eating.
I crouched down and wiped his cheek with my thumb.
He had his father’s deep brown eyes and that same slight curl in his dark hair.
We were only supposed to be here for a few weeks until my law firm finalized a massive corporate IPO.
I stood back up and pulled out my phone to check my emails.
A sudden hush fell over the busy lobby.
I glanced up and felt the breath knock entirely out of my lungs.
Greg walked through the entrance, flanked by three men in tailored suits.
He looked older, his shoulders broader, his jawline sharp and unforgiving.
Gone was the college quarterback I used to cheer for under the Friday night lights.
He wore a custom charcoal suit that commanded the space, radiating cold authority.
My chest tightened as I grabbed Tyler’s hand and pulled him behind a tall potted palm tree.
Panic hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I pressed my back against the wall, closing my eyes and praying he wouldn’t look in this direction.
The heavy thud of his footsteps echoed on the marble as he walked past.
A shaky breath escaped my lips only when the elevator doors chimed shut.
Seven years ago, Greg was the love of my life and we were weeks away from getting married.
His younger sister, Megan, had started dating a boy named Craig.
Craig was deeply involved with a local street gang.
Trying to warn Megan only pushed her further away.
One night, the gang targeted Greg’s family in a brutal attack.
Megan didn’t survive.
Stepping in to protect me, Greg took a brutal beating that shattered his knee.
His football career was instantly destroyed.
His mother, Heather, stood in the hospital waiting room and screamed that the blood was on my hands.
She demanded I leave the city and never come back.
Packing my bags that same night, I drowned in guilt, believing I had ruined his life.
Two weeks later, alone in a new city, I discovered I was pregnant.
Telling him felt impossible when his mother wished I was dead and he was grieving his sister.
Raising Tyler entirely on my own became my only focus as I built a career as an attorney from the ground up.
The next morning, I walked into the glass-walled conference room at my new firm.
My boss had spent the entire week bragging about the shadow corporation we were taking public.
Arranging my legal pads on the oak table, I straightened my posture.
The heavy wooden door swung open.
Greg stepped into the room.
He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes locking onto mine.
The air in the room instantly plummeted by ten degrees.
My hands trembled as I gripped the edge of the table.
Oblivious to the tension, my boss stepped forward to introduce us.
Greg didn’t blink, his gaze burning into my skin.
Extending a hand across the table, his expression remained completely blank.
He announced he was looking forward to working with the new senior attorney.
Taking his hand, the familiar calluses on his palm sent a jolt straight up my arm.
He dropped my grip almost immediately and took his seat.
For the next two hours, he ruthlessly dismantled every legal strategy I presented.
Impossible revisions and midnight deadlines were piled onto my desk.
He wanted me to quit.
Keeping my chin high, I swallowed the lump in my throat.
This promotion was the only way to provide a stable life for Tyler.
When the meeting finally ended, Greg cornered me near the elevator bank.
Leaning in close, the scent of his familiar cedar cologne made my chest ache.
He whispered that seven years hadn’t changed how selfish I was.
A cruel smirk crossed his face as he asked if my husband was waiting for me at home.
Looking away, I stared hard at the elevator buttons.
My voice shook slightly as I told him I was just here to do a job.
A harsh, bitter laugh echoed in the hallway as he stepped onto the elevator alone.
I spent the entire weekend trying to push the encounter out of my mind.
Taking Tyler for a picnic at the new community park downtown felt like the perfect distraction.
The sun was shining brightly, and the park was packed with families.
Spreading out a checkered blanket on the grass, I started unpacking our lunch.
Tyler grabbed his football, his face lighting up with a massive grin.
He asked if he could go practice his throwing by the trees.
Nodding, I watched him run off toward the open green space.
I busied myself with the sandwiches, enjoying the brief moment of peace.
A few minutes later, I looked up to check on him.
My stomach plummeted to the ground.
Tyler was standing near the fountain, talking to a tall man in a dark overcoat.
Scrambling to my feet, I abandoned the food on the grass.
I broke into a sprint, my pulse deafening in my ears.
Pushing past a group of teenagers, I called out Tyler’s name.
The tall man turned around at the sound of my voice.
It was Greg.
He was holding Tyler’s football in one hand, looking down at my son.
Stopping a few feet away, my lungs burned for air.
Tyler pointed up at Greg with a bright, innocent smile.
He proudly announced the nice man showed him how to hold the laces properly.
Greg slowly shifted his gaze from Tyler to me.
The color completely drained from his face.
His eyes darted between Tyler’s dark curls and his own reflection in the boy’s features.
He took a slow step forward, the football slipping from his grasp and bouncing on the concrete.
He demanded to know exactly how old the boy was.
