Chapter 26 A Paternity Test
Emma shut the door behind her when she stepped into the house. Sharing that with Ezra made her feel nauseous. She had thought it would go well, but now she realized she was wrong. The house was silent, leading her to assume that Zoella had stayed the night again at Phoebe’s.
She reached into her purse to grab her phone. Once it was in her grasp, she dialed Phoebe. On the first ring, Phoebe's voice came through the line. “I’ve been waiting for your call. How did it go? I heard the party was a hit.” Emma remained silent for a moment, which was noticeable to Phoebe. “Alright. What happened?”
Emma inhaled deeply. “I feel so embarrassed, Phoebe. I don’t even think I should see him again.”
“What happened?”
“Ezra shouted at me after I told him about it. It’s like he refuses to accept that Zoella is his child. When I looked into his eyes, I saw anger and confusion.”
“Of course he’d be confused,” Phoebe said gently. “He just found out he’s a father out of the blue. If it were you, you might’ve reacted even worse.”
Emma hugged the phone tighter to her ear, pacing the room. “But it’s all a lie, Phoebe. All of it. I don’t think I can handle this anymore.” Her voice cracked. “When I told him, I felt sick with guilt. He wasn’t even angry about the money or the car. He was hurt because I left. He said I hurt him.”
There was a brief silence on the line.
“Then maybe it’s time to fix that,” Phoebe said softly.
Emma stopped pacing. “But how?” she whispered. “The damage is already done.”
“Emma,” Phoebe said, her tone shifting, knowing. “I know you like him. It’s written all over you. The way you suddenly became happy about going to work every morning, even though you kept saying it was ‘just for the paycheck’?” She laughed lightly. “Please. You wanted to see him.”
Emma swallowed. “I’m… not so sure about that anymore.”
Phoebe frowned on the other end. “So what are you saying?”
Emma exhaled shakily. “I’m going to quit.”
“What?” Phoebe snapped.
“I can’t even face work tomorrow,” Emma rushed on. “I don’t want to see him look at me like that again. I don’t want him getting upset just because I exist in the same space.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Well,” Emma said weakly, trying to sound firm, “just watch me.”
Phoebe scoffed. “So what about Zoella? What’s the plan there? Are you sending her back?”
Emma sank onto the couch, staring at the wall. “No.” Her voice steadied. “I refuse to send her back. She’s mine now. I’ll take care of her like a mother should. Tomorrow morning, I’ll enroll her in school and start looking for a new job.”
Phoebe inhaled sharply. “You’re completely out of your mind. You can barely support yourself, Emma, and now you want to support two people?” Her voice softened but stayed firm. “What about your family? Your siblings? Think this through. You need this job just as much as—” she paused pointedly, “—as you need Ezra Queen.”
Emma closed her eyes.
“I’ll come by your place at five to drop off Zoe,” Phoebe continued. “Use this time wisely. Decide what kind of future you want and how you plan to survive it.”
The call ended before Emma could respond.
She lowered the phone slowly, the silence in the room suddenly too loud. With a tired sigh, she slipped off her shoes and stretched her aching legs. Her eyes drifted to the outfit tossed carelessly on a chair—the one she’d worn the night before. It reeked of alcohol, memories clinging to the fabric.
A wave of discomfort hit her.
Without thinking, she jumped up and hurried to the bathroom.
Warm water poured over her head, soaking her hair, grounding her. As she washed, her thoughts unraveled. She had kissed him first. He had kissed her back—without hesitation. If he hadn’t wanted her, if he hadn’t felt something, he wouldn’t have done that… right?
So what did that mean?
She turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a robe, stepping out slowly. Her gaze dropped to the clothes on the floor—the ones he had put her in. Her chest tightened.
She moved toward the closet, but before she could reach it, her stomach growled loudly, betraying her.
Emma let out a small, humorless laugh.
"Great," she muttered.
She walked to the kitchen only to find the cabinet empty of food. Perhaps it was time for grocery shopping. She went for a pair of short jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. She dried her hair with a hairdryer, and left the house with the little change she had.
Emma placed her earpiece in her ear and crossed the street. She didn’t have to walk far to reach the market. As soon as she caught the scent of freshly baked donuts, her stomach started to growl again. Why not wallow in a little? She turned towards the store, opened the door, and stepped inside. After ordering donuts and an iced cup of Pepsi, Emma settled by the window. She took a bite, trying to enjoy the sugar rush, when sudden laughter rippled through the café.
She glanced up—and froze.
People were staring at her.
Whispers followed, eyes lingering too long. Confused, her brows furrowed just as one of the women stepped forward, excitement bright on her face.
“You’re the woman from the internet.”
Emma blinked. “What?” she asked, genuinely baffled. “What do you mean?”
“The designer from Queens,” the woman said eagerly. “The one who became Mr. Queen’s favorite designer.”
Emma’s breath hitched.
That title?
Her mind scrambled. She hadn’t even stayed awake for the announcement last night. She’d been drunk, emotional, gone long before anything official happened. She pointed to herself, disbelief written all over her face. “Me? I got the title?”
The woman hesitated, studying her more closely, doubt creeping in. “Maybe… maybe it wasn’t you,” she said slowly. “You do look like her, though. Yesterday, she wowed everyone, even the media with a stunning dress. Her name is Emmaline Facer.” She shook her head lightly. “She’s incredibly beautiful. You can’t be her.”
Emma’s heart pounded, but she forced a quick nod, playing along. “You’re right,” she said calmly. “I’m not her. You must’ve confused me with someone else.”
“I suppose I did,” the woman muttered. She straightened and raised her voice. “Wrong news! She is not Emmaline Facer. She just looks like her!”
Just like that, the small crowd dissolved, interest evaporating as chairs scraped and conversations resumed. Emma released a long, shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Relief washed over her… followed immediately by something warmer.
She had received the title.
The thought sent butterflies fluttering through her stomach, but her smile didn’t last. Reality settled in quickly. She couldn’t go back to the company. She couldn’t face Ezra again. No matter how much her chest ached at the idea.
She told herself that again.
Her phone buzzed on the table. A message from Phoebe.
It was a link.
Emma tapped it, and her breath caught.
There it was—her name, her picture, splashed across the screen.
Emmaline Facer — Favorite Designer of the Year.
Her hands trembled as she stared at it.
As he reached for another shot of alcohol, Ezra let out a sharp, exhausted sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it all.
“Stop it.” Scott snatched the bottle from his hand. “You’ve finished an entire bottle already, and now you’re reaching for another?”
Right after Emma left, Ezra had called Scott for advice. He knew—ironically—that Scott was the last person he should be turning to, but tonight, he had no one else.
Scott studied him for a moment before speaking again. “So tell me. Why did you call me here? You said it was an emergency. You sounded really worried on the phone.” He narrowed his eyes. “The last time I heard you this anxious was three years ago. When you got tricked and dumped. And now you’re drinking yourself into a stupor.”
“The ghost from the past has returned.” Ezra lifted his head slowly, his gaze unfocused.
Scott’s brows furrowed. “Ghost?” He let out a short laugh. “Now you’re being ridiculous. What ghost? There’s no such thing.”
“She’s back,” Ezra said hoarsely. “The ghost is back, and she’s here to haunt me.”
“You’re not making any sense, man.” Scott helped him up. “Let’s get you to bed. You need to sleep.”
“She was pregnant, Scott.”
Scott froze. He looked at him.
“Who was pregnant?” he asked carefully.
“I saw her again. Yesterday. At the party.” Ezra swallowed. “I saw her again, and she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His voice cracked. “What do I do now that she’s back with—” He hiccupped. “With our child?”
Scott stared at him. “Wait. Slow down. I don’t understand any of this.” He leaned forward. “Who was pregnant? Who had your child? Is she the same ‘ghost’ you keep talking about?”
Ezra nodded weakly.
“And she was at the party yesterday?”
Another nod.
“I brought her home when she was drunk,” Ezra continued, words tumbling out. “She told me everything. About the child. About three years ago. About how she couldn’t find me until she got a job at the company.” His eyes lifted to Scott, glassy and wounded. “She hurt me by leaving. And now…” He laughed bitterly. “Now I’m a father?”
“Damn it!” Scott snapped, anger flaring as he eased Ezra onto the bed. “That woman—”
As Scott turned to leave, Ezra grabbed his wrist, desperation tightening his grip.
“One of us needs to take action,” Scott said. “And it’s clearly not you.” His jaw tightened.“Just look at you,” he said quietly. “I’ll handle this.”
“What do you plan to do?” Ezra asked, his words slightly slurred, though his eyes were sharp, too sharp for someone who had drunk that much.
“Send her back to Mexico—where she belongs. She needs to leave my city today.”
Ezra let out a short, serious laugh and shook his head, the room tilting just a little. “How… how did you even find out about all this?”
Scott swallowed. “Some time ago.”
His brows knitted slowly. “And you didn’t… didn’t think to tell me?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Of course,” Ezra murmured, nodding as if that settled it. Scott always did that. Stepped in, took control, decided things for him. He dragged a hand down his face. “No. No. Don’t… don’t go there.”
“Ezra,” Scott said firmly, “she’s manipulating you again. Do you remember how much pain she caused you back then?” He paused, putting his hands on his hips. “So what’s your plan now? You just found out you’re a father. Are you going to start playing daddy?” He scoffed. “If you insist on that, at least get a paternity test first.”
“Scott, I—” Ezra swallowed, blinking hard.
“Ezra.” Scott chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings for her again.”
Ezra shook his head, slower this time, then looked up. “They never… they never went away,” he admitted softly. “Not even once.”
Scott’s jaw tightened. His fist clenched. “Then what about Heather?”
Ezra closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as if grounding himself. When he spoke, his voice was steady, intended. They were too honest to be careless. “Heather and I?” He let out a quiet exhale. “We were never going to work, and you know that.”