Chapter 20 Convenient
"Vanessa came here yesterday morning," I repeat. I swallow hard and force myself to continue. "She showed up at the penthouse. Around six-thirty."
Caius stands up slowly from his chair. I can see the tension in every of his muscles. His hands are clenched at his sides, and there's a vein pulsing in his temple that I've only seen a handful of times before, always right before someone got fired.
"And you're just telling me this now?" He asks quietly, but it sends a chill down my spine. "A full day later?"
"I tried—" I start, but my voice trembles. "I tried to tell you last night. When you got home. But you wouldn't listen. You slammed the door in my face."
Even as I say it, I know it's the wrong approach. I can see it in the way his eyes narrow.
"Don't you dare try to turn this around on me," his jaw clenches. "Don't you dare make this about me being too upset to listen when you had an entire day to call me. To text me. To send me an email or a message or literally any form of communication to tell me that my ex-girlfriend showed up at my home while I was gone."
"You were in the middle of negotiations—"
"I don't give a damn about the negotiations!" He slams his hand down on the desk, and I actually jump. "You should have called immediately to inform me."
I chew on my bottom lip, unable to meet his gaze.
"What did she want?" He lowers his voice. "What the hell did Vanessa want?"
"You," I say simply, looking up now. "She wanted you."
I watch his expression carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. But his face gives nothing away. It's like looking at a marble statue.
"She showed me photos," I continue. My hands are shaking, so I clasp them together in front of me. "Of the two of you together at a restaurant. She said you met with her a month ago. That you told her you missed her. That you wanted to work things out."
Even now, there's still nothing from Caius. No denial or explanation.
Just that cold, impassive stare.
"Is it true?" I ask quietly. "Did you meet with her? Did you tell her those things?"
For a long moment, he doesn't answer.
Then he moves around the desk, closing the distance between us in three long strides. He stops about two feet away from me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to look him in the eye. Close enough that if I wanted to, I could reach out and touch him.
"Yes," he says flatly. "I met with her a month ago."
My stomach drops even though I already knew the answer.
"Why?" I ask.
I don't even know why I'm asking. Don't know what answer I'm hoping for. But I need to understand. Need to know what was going through his head when he reached out to his ex-girlfriend a month ago.
"Because I needed options." He runs a hand through his already disheveled hair, making it stick up at odd angles. "The court was making it clear they wouldn't approve custody without evidence of a stable, two-parent household. I thought... I thought maybe if Vanessa and I could reconcile, it would solve the problem. It would give me a real relationship. A real partner. Someone with the right background, the right connections. Someone the court would approve of without question."
"But it didn't work out," I say.
"No." His laugh is bitter. "It didn't work out. She wanted promises I couldn't make. Commitments I wasn't ready for. A timeline I couldn't give her. So we agreed to go our separate ways."
I should feel relieved. I should feel vindicated that their reunion failed, that he chose a different path, that he ended up with me instead.
But all I feel is sick.
Because I understand now what I am to him.
I'm not a choice. I'm not even second best.
I'm just the convenient option that happened to be available when Plan A fell through. The backup plan. The last resort when everything else failed.
He didn't choose me. He settled for me.
There's a difference, and it hurts more than I expected it to.
I let out a heavy sigh, become asking my next question. "Did you... did you sleep with her?"
It's only when the question is out that I realise how stupid I sound for asking that. Maybe I should have worded it differently. My cheeks flush slightly.
Caius's eyes flash with irritation. "That's none of your concern."
And he's right. What he did or didn't do with his ex-girlfriend a month ago is absolutely none of my business. We're not really married. This isn't a real relationship. I have no claim on him, no right to be jealous or hurt or bothered by who he shares his bed with.
But I ask anyway because I need him to know. Need him to understand why this matters.
"She—" I start to say. "She claims she's pregnant. With your baby."
The color drains from his face so fast I'm worried he might actually pass out.
For the first time since I walked into this study, he looks genuinely shocked. Genuinely caught off guard.
"She's what?" He asks. "What did you just say?"
"Pregnant," I repeat, and my own voice is shaking now. "She told me yesterday. She said she's carrying your child. That's why she came back. That's why she's here."
Caius takes a step back. Then another. Like my words are physically pushing him away.
His hand comes up to his mouth. He's staring at nothing, his eyes unfocused.
"That's not possible," he finally says, but he sounds uncertain. Like he's trying to convince himself.
"Those were her words," I say. "And she seemed pretty certain about it. Pretty confident too."
He's spiraling. I can see it happening. The same way I've seen him spiral when a major deal falls through or a key employee quits without notice.
"She's using it as leverage," I continue, trying to pull him back to the present. To the actual problem we're facing.
That gets his attention. His eyes snap to mine. "Leverage for what?"
This is it. The part where I have to confess just how badly I've failed him. How catastrophically I've messed everything up.
My throat feels tight. Like someone's wrapped their hands around it and is slowly squeezing.
"She wants me gone," I manage to say. "She wants me to leave. To divorce you. To disappear from your life completely."
"And?" He asks, sharply. "What else? What else did she say?"
Here it comes. The truth that's going to change everything.
"She recorded me." I mumble. "She recorded our entire conversation yesterday. Everything I said. Including the parts where I told her about the custody case. About the contract. About how we're not really together. How this marriage is just an arrangement."
Silence settles in the room.
I can hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Can hear my own shallow breathing.
Caius just stares at me. His face has gone completely blank. Empty of all expression.
It's worse than anger. Worse than yelling.
It's just... nothing. Nothing at all.
Then he speaks, slowly.
"You... You did what Lia?"