Chapter 40 We wait
The meeting between Jaxon, Elena, and Maya stretched longer than any of them had anticipated.
What had started as a necessary conversation had slowly evolved into something far heavier—an emotional standoff layered with unspoken fears, resentment, and carefully concealed truths. They sat in a private lounge tucked away from the noise of the city, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of glass towers and endless traffic below. Yet none of them seemed to notice the view. The air inside the room felt thick, almost suffocating, as though every word spoken weighed more than the last.
Maya was the first to break the silence.
“I would be coming to the penthouse,” she stated suddenly, her voice firm, almost rehearsed.
Elena’s head snapped in her direction.
“Oh girl, that will not happen,” Elena replied coolly, her tone calm but unyielding.
Jaxon’s gaze shifted between the two women, tension tightening his jaw. He leaned back slightly in his chair, already sensing where this conversation was headed, yet unsure how to stop it once it gained momentum.
Maya straightened in her seat. “You don’t get to decide that, Elena. This concerns me too.”
“And it concerns my home,” Elena shot back, her eyes steady. “The penthouse is not a waiting room for unresolved situations.”
Maya scoffed softly. “Unresolved? You make it sound like this is a business merger gone wrong.”
Elena folded her arms. “Isn’t it? Everything about our lives has been negotiated, signed, and sealed. This is no different.”
The words hung in the air, sharp and uncomfortable.
Jaxon exhaled slowly. “Can we all just slow down?” he said, rubbing his temple. “This isn’t helping anyone.”
“Then speak,” Elena replied without looking at him. “Say something useful.”
Maya’s lips parted, then pressed together again as though she were carefully choosing which truth to reveal and which to bury. “I’m carrying your child,” she finally said, turning to Jaxon. “I can’t pretend this doesn’t change things.”
“It changes some things,” Elena interjected, “but not everything.”
Maya’s eyes flashed. “You’re being unfair.”
“No,” Elena replied calmly. “I’m being rational.”
The tension in the room escalated, emotions brushing against one another like exposed wires. Maya’s hands trembled slightly as she clenched them together on her lap. Elena noticed—but she did not comment. Sympathy, she knew, could be mistaken for weakness.
“I will not be hidden away,” Maya said after a moment. “I won’t be treated like an embarrassment.”
Elena’s expression hardened. “You’re not being hidden away. You’re being protected. There’s a difference.”
“Protected from what?” Maya demanded.
“From scandal,” Elena answered. “From the press. From the board. From people who would tear this apart for sport.”
Jaxon frowned. “Elena—”
She raised a hand, stopping him. “For all we know,” she continued, her gaze locking onto Maya’s, “this pregnancy could be a lie.”
The words landed like a slap.
Maya shot to her feet. “How dare you?”
Jaxon stood immediately. “Elena, that’s too far.”
“No, it isn’t,” Elena replied, standing as well.
“It’s the uncomfortable truth. We barely have facts, yet we’re already rearranging lives.”
Maya’s eyes glistened. “You think I would lie about something like this?”
“I think people lie when they’re desperate,” Elena said evenly. “And desperation makes even the kindest people reckless.”
Silence followed—deep and heavy.
Jaxon looked between them, conflict etched across his face. “There has to be a way to confirm this,” he said quietly.
Elena nodded once. “Exactly.”
Maya crossed her arms defensively. “And how do you propose we do that?”
“A DNA test,” Elena replied without hesitation.
Maya laughed bitterly. “That won’t be possible until the baby arrives.”
Elena tilted her head slightly, studying her. “That’s not entirely true.”
Maya frowned. “What do you mean?”
“There’s something called non-invasive prenatal testing,” Elena said calmly. “NIPT. A friend of mine is a doctor—she once explained it to me. Through a simple blood test, fetal DNA can be detected as early as seven to ten weeks.”
Maya blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“It exists,” Elena said. “And it’s accurate.”
Jaxon turned sharply to Maya. “How far along are you?”
Maya hesitated.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
She looked down, then back up, her voice quieter when she finally spoke. “Two weeks.”
Elena’s lips pressed together thoughtfully. She did not react immediately. Instead, she picked up her bag, adjusted the strap on her shoulder, and met Maya’s gaze with a composure that felt almost unsettling.
“Then we wait,” Elena said simply.
Jaxon frowned. “Wait?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Until the timeline allows us to confirm the truth. Until then, this stays between us.”
Maya opened her mouth to protest, but Elena raised a finger.
“No penthouse. No announcements. No emotional decisions driven by panic,” Elena said firmly. “If this is real, we’ll deal with it properly. If it isn’t, we won’t have destroyed lives over a possibility.”
Maya studied her for a long moment, uncertainty flickering across her face.
The silence returned—thicker than before.
And for the first time since the conversation began, all three of them understood the same thing.
This was no longer just about a pregnancy.
It was about timing, power, and who would lose the most when the truth finally surfaced.
Elena arrived at her parents’ mansion just as the late afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow across the expansive estate. The wrought-iron gates slid open smoothly, welcoming her into a space that had always felt like safety, history, and quiet strength. As she stepped out of her car and walked toward the entrance, a familiar sense of nostalgia settled over her. She had missed the air around the house—the calm, the certainty, the way everything here felt untouched by chaos.
She walked in gracefully, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
Almost immediately, her mother appeared from the hallway, her face lighting up with a smile so wide it seemed to erase years of worry.
“Ohh, El,” Vivienne exclaimed warmly as she wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter.
Elena laughed softly, slightly muffled by the embrace. “Mum… I can’t breathe.”
Vivienne chuckled and loosened her hold, resting her hands on Elena’s shoulders as she studied her face. “You look beautiful,” she said fondly. “And tired.”
Elena smiled faintly. “That obvious?”
Vivienne waved it off. “Come, sit. You must be exhausted.”
Elena glanced around the living room—the same cream sofas, the grand chandelier, the quiet elegance that had defined her childhood.
“Where’s Dad?” she asked.
“He’s in the study,” Vivienne replied. “But he’ll be down soon.”
“Okay then,” Elena said lightly. “I’ll have some tea while I wait.”
Vivienne nodded, signaling one of the maids, who immediately disappeared into the adjoining room.
Elena took a seat, crossing her legs neatly, her posture composed despite the storm quietly brewing within her. She wrapped her hands around the porcelain cup when it arrived, inhaling the familiar scent. For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe—to simply exist without titles, obligations, or expectations.
Footsteps echoed from the staircase.
“Isn’t that my only beautiful daughter?” Richard’s voice rang out warmly as he descended the stairs.
Elena looked up, her lips curving into a genuine smile. She stood immediately, and before another word could be spoken, they were in each other’s arms. His embrace was firm and grounding—the kind only a father could offer.
They pulled apart after a moment.
“You don’t look so bad,” Richard remarked with a teasing glint in his eyes.
Elena laughed softly. “That’s reassuring.”
Vivienne took a seat beside her. “Tell me,” she said, unable to hide her curiosity, “how is it at the penthouse?”
Elena hesitated for only a second. “It’s been going well… yeah,” she answered carefully.
Richard nodded, as though confirming a thought he’d already formed. “That’s actually the reason I beckoned you, dear.”
Elena straightened slightly. “Why, Dad? Is anything wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” Richard said calmly. “I spoke with Mr. Wentworth today. We suggested that the wedding should take place soon.”
Elena blinked. “Soon?” she echoed. “Isn’t that a bit… fast?”
“It isn’t,” Richard replied firmly but kindly“You’re already engaged. You’re living together. And you both claim to be in love. I don’t see the wisdom in postponing it further.”
Vivienne nodded in agreement. “People will begin to talk.”
Elena felt a familiar knot tighten in her chest. She looked at her mother, then back at her father. “Very well,” she said after a moment. “I’ll speak to Jaxon when I get back.”
A satisfied smile crossed Richard’s face. “Good.”
Elena rose to her feet, picking up her bag. “I should get going. There are a few things I need to attend to.”
Vivienne stood as well. “Oh, dear, won’t you stay for dinner?” she asked sincerely.
Elena shook her head gently. “Not tonight, Mum. Maybe next time.”
Vivienne pulled her into another hug. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” Elena replied softly.
She hugged her father as well, then turned and walked out, her steps steady, her expression composed.
Outside, the evening air was cooler. She unlocked her car with a soft beep and slid into the driver’s seat, placing her bag on the passenger side. For a long moment, she didn’t start the engine.
Instead, she leaned forward, resting her head against the steering wheel, and took a deep breath.
Slow. Measured. Heavy.
The weight of everything she wasn’t saying pressed down on her chest.
Caleb set the porcelain coffee cup down carefully on the glass table beside him, the soft clink echoing faintly in the otherwise quiet room. He crossed one leg over the other, his expression unreadable as he looked up.
“Tell me,” he said calmly, his voice smooth but commanding, “what do you have for me today?”
The investigator, dressed entirely in black, straightened where he stood. “She met with Jaxon and Elena today,” he reported.
Caleb’s brows lifted slightly. “And?” he prompted.
“They spoke for over two hours—”
“What did they talk about?” Caleb cut in, his tone sharpening just a fraction.
The investigator hesitated briefly before answering. “It appears Miss Maya is pregnant,” he said carefully. “She claims the child belongs to Jaxon.”
Silence followed.
Then Caleb let out a slow, amused breath.
“Oh,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair. “Interesting.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips—not one of warmth, but of calculation. Pieces were beginning to fall into place, aligning far too neatly for coincidence.
“Very well,” Caleb said after a moment.
“Continue doing your work. Do it well, and I may consider giving you a bonus.”
He tilted his head slightly toward his assistant, who immediately stepped forward and handed the investigator a thick envelope.
The man accepted it with both hands, bowing slightly. “Thank you, sir,” he said respectfully before turning and leaving the room.
Once the door closed behind him, Caleb rubbed his palms together slowly, his eyes dark with intent. He turned to his assistant, his gaze lingering on her far longer than necessary.
“Go to the room,” he said coolly. “Get naked. Wait for me.”
She stiffened, clearly unsettled. “Sir, I—”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he rose to his feet. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
She swallowed hard, nodded once, and quietly left the room.
Caleb remained where he was, staring ahead as his smile returned—slow, deliberate, and dangerous.
Everything was unfolding exactly the way he wanted.