Chapter 84 084
RYAN
Miranda didn’t answer immediately.
She just stood there, her fingers twisting together, her eyes flickering between me and the little girl still curled in my arms.
“Lie about what?” she finally said, her voice softer than usual. Careful.
Too careful.
I let out a low, humorless chuckle.
“Are you still going to deny it?”
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
That alone told me everything.
Zara shifted against me, her small body still trembling from earlier. I tightened my hold on her instinctively, my palm resting protectively at the back of her head.
Miranda sighed.
The sound carried resignation.
Then she took a few slow steps closer to the bed.
“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” she said quietly.
My expression did not change.
“Oh, you didn’t?”
She swallowed.
“I just… I like you, Ryan.”
The words hung in the air.
I stared at her, waiting.
“And I’ve liked you for a long time,” she continued, her voice gaining a bit of strength now. “You just never noticed because you were too busy with Emily.”
Something in my chest shifted at that name.
Not a full memory.
Not yet.
But something.
Miranda kept talking.
“You were always about her. Always choosing her. Always going back to her. Even when she didn’t deserve it.”
My jaw tightened.
Zara stirred again, her breathing uneven.
Miranda’s voice sharpened slightly.
“She never loved you the way you loved her. Everyone could see it. She hurt you, Ryan. Over and over again. And you just kept—”
My hands moved before I even thought about it.
I covered Zara’s ears gently, pulling her closer to my chest.
“Enough.”
My voice cut through her fables.
Miranda froze.
“I’m not interested in whatever story you’re trying to sell me,” I continued, my gaze hard. “Not in front of my child.”
The word felt strange on my tongue.
My child.
But it also felt right.
Unquestionable.
Miranda’s eyes widened slightly at my tone.
“Ryan, I’m just trying to explain—”
“I didn’t ask for an explanation.”
She took another step closer, desperation creeping into her expression.
“Please. You don’t understand. I did this because I care about you.”
I tilted my head slightly, studying her.
“Is that what you call this?”
“Yes.”
Her answer came quickly. Too quickly.
“I wanted you to be free from her. From all the drama she brings into your life. I wanted you to see what was right in front of you this whole time.”
I let out a quiet breath.
Then I looked at her properly.
Really looked.
And for the first time since she walked in, I saw it clearly.
Not concern.
Not love.
Ambition.
Desperation.
“I’m not ready to listen to your tales,” I said flatly.
Her face fell.
“You can go.”
She blinked, clearly not expecting that.
“Ryan—”
“Go.”
The single word carried enough weight to make her pause.
But she didn’t move.
Instead, she shook her head slightly.
“I’m not leaving like this. Not when you’re confused and—”
“Do you still want your job?”
The question cut through her sentence instantly.
She froze.
Her eyes widened.
The silence that followed was sharp.
Careful.
Calculated.
I watched her reaction closely.
Every flicker.
Every shift.
Because somewhere, deep down, something was starting to come back.
Not fully.
But enough.
Enough to know I was being played.
And enough to know I needed to play along.
Miranda swallowed.
“My… job?” she repeated slowly.
I nodded once.
“You heard me.”
Her gaze dropped for a second before lifting again.
Uncertain now.
Guarded.
“You wouldn’t—”
“Try me.”
My tone didn’t rise.
It didn’t need to.
She knew I meant it.
I could see it in the way her posture changed.
The way her confidence cracked just slightly.
“Ryan,” she said softly, trying again. “I care about you. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
I leaned back slightly against the bed, still holding Zara securely against me.
“Then prove it.”
Her brows pulled together.
“How?”
I held her gaze.
“You want me to forgive you?”
Hope flickered in her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Then you’re going to do something for me.”
She nodded quickly.
“Anything.”
There it was.
Desperation.
I let a beat of silence pass before speaking again.
“You’re going to keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing with my mother.”
Confusion replaced the hope.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will,” I said calmly.
“You’re going to stay close to my mother and continue this fake relationship narrative you’ve tried to push on me.”
Miranda stilled.
Her breathing hitched slightly.
I was starting to connect the dots and it fitted perfectly.
“And you’re going to tell me everything.”
Her lips parted.
“Everything?” she repeated.
“Everything.”
I leaned forward just slightly.
“What she says. What she plans. What she does.”
Miranda hesitated.
For the first time since this conversation started, she looked unsure.
Truly unsure.
“And if I don’t?” she asked quietly.
I met her gaze without blinking.
“Then you lose your job. And whatever chance you think you have with me.”
The words landed exactly where I wanted them to.
She went silent.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Weighing her options.
It didn’t take long.
“Okay,” she said finally.
The word came out softer than before.
“I’ll do it.”
Of course you will, I thought.
I nodded once.
“Good.”
She took a step back, her composure slowly returning.
“Does that mean you forgive me?”
I didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, I adjusted Zara slightly in my arms as she shifted again, her breathing evening out little by little.
Then I looked back at Miranda.
“That depends on how useful you are.”
She nodded quickly.
“I won’t disappoint you.”
“I hope not.”
Another silence.
Then she turned toward the door.
Paused.
Looked back at me one last time.
And then she left.
The door closed softly behind her.
The room fell quiet.
Finally.
I exhaled slowly, the tension in my shoulders easing just slightly.
Then I looked down.
Zara had stopped crying.
At some point during the conversation, her small body had relaxed completely against mine.
Her fingers were still curled into my shirt.
But her breathing had slowed.
Evened out.
She had cried herself to sleep.
Something tightened painfully in my chest.
I shifted slightly, adjusting her so she was more comfortable against me.
My hand moved gently through her hair.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured quietly.
The words came without thought.
Without hesitation.
“Daddy’s sorry.”
The word felt strange.
Heavy.
“I’m sorry I didn’t remember you.”
My throat tightened.
“And I’m sorry for everything I did to your mummy.”
Zara didn’t respond.
She just slept.
Peaceful.
Unaware.
I leaned my head back against the pillow, my eyes staying on her face.
Trying to memorize it.
Trying to hold onto something that felt like it was slipping through my fingers.
Then my mind shifted.
Back to my mother.
Her words.
Her actions.
Her tone.
Everything about her since I woke up.
It didn’t add up.
Not anymore.
The more I thought about it, the clearer it became.
Something was wrong.
Deeply wrong.
The way she spoke about Emily.
The way she tried to control every narrative.
The way she shut down questions before they could even be asked.
It wasn’t normal.