Chapter 9 A Strong Lie
His eyes dropped to where her hand rested—right on his manhood.
Emma followed his gaze, her mind racing as she tried to understand his shocked silence, broken only by that one word.
The truth of where her hand rested hit her like lightning, and she gasped sharply. “Oh, my goodness!”
He pulled back quickly, and she fell straight to the floor. She rubbed her backside and looked up at him, wincing.
Ezra hurried to his seat, clearly embarrassed. “I’m so sorry about that,” he said, his voice full of regret.
She exhaled sharply and stood up. She brushed off her clothes and stole a quick look at him, only to see that he was now focused on the files on his desk.
Confusion washed over her. Did he not recognize her? The thought bothered her, and her heart raced, pushing her to want to run from the awkward moment.
When he finally looked up at her, he let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe we should talk?” he said, making Emma wonder what he meant.
Talk?
Did he know who she really was? Was that why he hired her?
The air in the room felt thick, and she felt her heart might burst if she stayed any longer.
“I called you here so I could talk to you. And—”
“I think I should leave,” Emma cut in quickly.
“Huh?” He was taken aback.
“I—I think I need some water,” she stammered, feeling her heart burning, then she rushed to the door and ran out.
Ezra sat there, confused, wondering if she was okay. Was she having a panic attack? She had touched him in a very inappropriate way—and he should have been the one panicking, not her.
He covered his mouth with his hand, a wild thought running through his mind: Has she never touched a penis before? It didn’t even feel like she grabbed his; it felt more like she didn’t know what she was doing.
Her shocked face replayed in his mind. He leaned toward the mirror on his desk and studied his reflection. “Am I really that terrifying?” he wondered, pressing his alarm to call Milan in.
When she entered, she walked toward him professionally. “Sir, do you need anything?” she asked with a small smile.
Ezra turned to her, hoping she could see the worry on his face. “Do I look frightening?” he asked, his hands on his cheeks.
Milan shrugged, confused. “Why would you ask that?”
“Miss Facer just ran away from me.” She'd seen that and wondered what happened in there. “Is she scared of me? Do I have a scary face?”
Milan gave a small smile. “You’re very handsome, sir, but everyone is a bit scared of you.” She was being honest.
Ezra sighed. “Oh my goodness, what did I do to scare her away?” He looked back at the mirror again. “Should I get plastic surgery?” he joked. “Maybe I should change my handsome face to something cuter?”
Milan watched him, amused by his thoughts, and wondered if Emma ran away because of the rumors about what happened when people looked into his eyes.
Emma burst into the office, breathing fast like she was about to have a panic attack. As she rushed to her desk, everyone turned to look at her, worry and curiosity on their faces. Gia exchanged a glance with Floria, sensing something was wrong.
“I think she looked into his eyes,” Gia whispered to Floria before walking to Emma. “Are you alright?”
But Emma didn’t answer. She dug through her bag in a panic, searching for her phone.
Floria watched her closely. “She’s not okay. I think she’s having a panic attack.”
Emma finally found her phone, jumped to her feet, and turned to Gia and Floria. “Where is the restroom, please?”
Gia pointed. “The restroom on this floor is to the left.”
Without saying anything else, Emma rushed out. She entered the bathroom, shut the door at once, and ran to the mirror, gasping for air as she turned on the faucet.
Her hands shook as she tried to unlock her phone. She searched for Phoebe’s number and called.
In one ring, Phoebe answered with a cheerful voice. “Hey, girl. How’s the company? I didn’t expect your call so soon.” She paused. “Aren’t you supposed to be working or something?”
Emma didn’t respond right away. Her heavy breathing said everything.
“Are you okay?” Phoebe asked quickly.
“You said—You said New York is a big city, Phoebe.”
Phoebe’s voice grew more serious. “What happened to you? Why are you breathing like that?”
Emma swallowed hard, her throat tight, the words barely pushing out. “E—Ez—Ezra—”
“Ezra? What happened to Ezra?” Phoebe’s voice sharpened with alarm. Then she gasped. “Wait! Did he find you? Did he call the police?”
“No—” Emma’s voice cracked as she tried to steady her breathing. “No. I… I met him today. Ezra is—he’s my boss. He’s the CEO of Queen Fashion.”
“What?”
Emma let out a trembling sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. “Exactly!”
“Did he recognize you?” Phoebe pressed.
Emma squeezed her eyes shut as the memory flashed—that look. His eyes only sharpened like that after she touched him. “No. I don’t… I don’t think so,” she stammered, her voice shaking uncontrollably.
“Then you’re safe,” Phoebe tried to reassure.
Emma shook her head violently, panic spiking again. “Safe? SAFE?” Her voice broke. “Phoebe, if he recognizes me, I am finished! I’m— I’m going back to the office right now to resign. I need to resign. It’s better to be safe than caught. I can’t— I can’t risk this!”
“Oh no, Missy. You’re not doing that. Listen to me.”
Emma’s heart hammered so fast she could barely hear anything else. “No—no, I can’t listen today. I’m too stressed! I can’t—Phoebe, I can’t.”
But Phoebe pushed on. “He doesn’t recognize you, and you can use that to your advantage. Just hear me out, okay?”
Emma squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself. She knew Phoebe too well. Whatever was coming next out of her mouth was definitely going to be insane.
“Why not tell him who you are first?” Phoebe said.
Emma froze. “Are you out of your mind? Do you hear yourself right now?”
“I hear myself perfectly,” Phoebe insisted. “And you should do it before he figures it out. This is your only option, Emma. Trust me. I have an idea, and it could save you.”
Emma let out a shaky breath, and her nerves were on the point of collapsing. She already knew—whatever Phoebe was about to suggest was going to drag her into even more trouble. “I don’t think I want to hear this,” she whispered.
“I’m doing this to protect you,” Phoebe said softly. “And I swear this will keep you safe. Please… trust me.”
Emma swallowed hard. “Alright… what are you suggesting?”
There was a short, heavy pause.
“Are you alone?” Phoebe asked.
Emma checked every stall in the restroom, her hands trembling as she pushed each door open. When she finally confirmed she was alone, she hurried back to the mirror, gripping the sink for balance.
“Yes… I’m alone,” she said, breath shaky.
“Good,” Phoebe replied. “Now listen carefully. We need a story. Three years ago, he took your virginity, and you haven’t been with anyone since.”
That part was true, but hearing it out loud made Emma’s stomach twist.
“Phoebe… What are you trying to say?" Emma whispered, confused and terrified.
“I’m saying that three years ago… you had a baby.”
Emma’s entire body went still. “A baby? Are you serious?”
“Very serious,” Phoebe said without hesitation. “When you found out you were pregnant after being with him, you ran away.”
“Oh my God,” Emma breathed, her voice cracking. “You want me to lie?”
“You already lied,” Phoebe said calmly, almost too calmly. “This one just…matters more.”
Emma shook her head quickly. “I can’t. He won’t believe it. Ezra is not stupid.”
“He will—if you have a three-year-old daughter with you,” Phoebe insisted. “Emma, the story fits. You panicked when you woke up beside him. You had never done shit with a man before, let alone a stranger you just met. You were terrified.”
“And that made me steal from him?” Emma asked, her voice rising in panic.
“You acted without thinking,” Phoebe explained. “You ran out of the hotel, you were shaking, you even lost your phone on the way. Then you found out you were pregnant, but you didn’t know his last name, or where he worked, or how to find him. Anyone would believe that. And it will protect you.”
Emma stared at her reflection. She was pale, trembling, and her eyes widened with fear. She hated lying. She hated it. But Ezra finding out the truth was worse.
Much worse.
“Fine,” she whispered, the word barely escaping her. “But how do we prove I had a child?”
“Leave that to me,” Phoebe said confidently. “When I come back next week, we’ll go to every orphanage in town and out of town, to find a three-year- old who looks similar to you or him. Hopefully we find her.”