Chapter 57 The Pressure
JAMES’ POV
There were a lot of things that my mom didn’t know.
And now, because of this mess, because of one small crack that had turned into a full-blown disaster, she was going to find out everything.
I sat there in silence for a few seconds longer than necessary, my eyes fixed on the floor as my mind raced, trying to find a way out, trying to find words that wouldn’t destroy everything I had worked for. How could I tell her the truth without sounding like a complete fraud? How could I admit that the formula everyone praised me for wasn’t entirely mine? That the foundation of it — the brilliance behind it belonged to Anna?
That I had taken something I didn’t fully understand, rushed it, polished the surface just enough to make it look perfect, and then built my entire career on it.
My throat felt dry.
“You don’t understand the pressure,” I finally said, choosing the safer route, the one I had always used whenever things got uncomfortable. “The board, the investors, the timelines. Everything is under scrutiny now. One wrong move and they’ll tear me apart.”
She didn’t reply immediately, and that made my chest tighten.
“They’re already tearing you apart,” she said calmly, but there was a sharp edge beneath her tone. “And if this keeps going, you’ll lose more than just your reputation.”
Her words hit too close to home.
I clenched my jaw, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me at once — the company, the lies, the expectations. I ran a hand through my hair slowly, dragging my fingers through it like that would somehow clear my thoughts. Deep down, I already knew she was right.
This wasn’t something I could smooth over with confidence or speeches anymore.
Then she stopped speaking.
I looked up and found her staring at me, her eyes narrowed slightly, her expression unreadable. It felt like she was peeling layers off me without touching me, like she was studying every reaction, every pause, every breath.
“Don’t tell me it’s what I think it is,” she said slowly.
“What’s that?” I asked, even though my heart was already pounding, even though I knew exactly where she was going with this.
“You haven’t fixed the problem,” she said, her voice firm now, “because you don’t know how to.”
My chest tightened.
That was just how well my mom knew me. I didn’t need to say it out loud for her to see through me. I didn’t need to confess for her to sense the truth sitting heavy on my shoulders. She knew when I was confident, and she knew when I was pretending.
Her brows squeezed together, and her gaze drifted away as if she was piecing together memories, old conversations, moments she had brushed aside back then.
“No,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I refuse to believe this.”
I swallowed hard.
“I wasn’t the one who created the formula, Mom,” I finally said, the words tumbling out like a confession I had been holding in for years. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. “The person who created it,” I continued, my voice dropping, “it was…”
“That girl,” she cut me off immediately, disbelief filling her tone. “From all those years ago. She was telling the truth when she said she created it.”
My eyes snapped up to meet hers.
She was staring at me now, shock written all over her face. I didn’t even need to answer her. She had already connected the dots on her own, already seen the full picture without me spelling it out.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “She created it, and I took credit for it.”
Saying it out loud made it feel heavier than it ever had in my head.
My mom let out a shaky breath, bringing a hand to her chest like she needed to steady herself. “What have you done?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “That girl… how could you do that? I attacked her that day because I thought she was lying. I thought she was just trying to force her way back into your life now that you had gotten promoted. I thought she was a gold digger.”
She looked genuinely shaken now.
“And now I’m hearing this,” she added, her voice softer, filled with regret.
“Don’t even do that, mom,” I said, irritation bubbling up despite the guilt eating at me. “Don’t make me look like the only villain here. You attacked and disgraced her way worse than I ever did.”
“Because I thought she was a gold digger,” she shot back. “A thought you put in my mind.”
I turned my gaze away, my jaw tightening. “Well, it’s already happened,” I said, my tone colder now. “There’s no point wallowing over the past.”
She was silent for a moment, then she exhaled deeply. “You’re right,” she said. “Let’s focus on how to solve this.”
She straightened up, slipping back into problem-solving mode. “Even though you didn’t create it, there are other genius medical scientists out there. People we can pay to fix this. Why haven’t you done that?”
“There are no funds for that now,” I replied honestly.
Her eyes widened. “You’re broke too?” she asked. “My goodness… we’re done for.”
I frowned. “Calm down,” I said. “There’s no need for all this drama. I’m working on another way to get the problem fixed.”
“And what way is that?” she asked sharply.
“You better get off your ass and look for a way to find that girl so she can help you,” she said, her voice filled with anger now. “She’s the only one who can fix this mess.”
“I already know where she is,” I said quietly.
She stared at me like I had just insulted her. “And you’re still sitting here?” she snapped.
“It’s not that easy to get to her anymore,” I said. “She’s the daughter and heiress to the Quinn Enterprise Group.”
My mom blinked several times, clearly stunned.
“The Quinns?” she repeated slowly.
“Yes,” I said. “That Quinn.”
She leaned back slightly, disbelief washing over her face. “I don’t know how you want to do it,” she said after a moment, “but you have to fix this fast. I’m already feeling horrible that you left someone like her, someone with so much potential for someone who doesn’t even have a goal in life.”
As if summoned by her words, the sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase.
Melissa appeared.
She walked down the stairs without looking at either of us, her posture stiff, her expression indifferent. The room went silent. I waited, expecting her to at least greet my mom, to acknowledge her presence.
But she didn’t.
She walked straight past us and headed for the front door like my mom wasn’t even there.
The door closed behind her with a sharp click.
My mom scoffed. “You see what I’m talking about?” she said. “She doesn’t even have the manners to greet. All these years and I still haven’t gotten a grandchild. This is who I supported. This is who you married.”
I didn’t respond.
“I don’t care if you have to jump the fence of people’s gate just to talk to that girl,” she added firmly. “Go and talk to her now. Let’s see how to fix this.”
And for the first time since this whole nightmare began, I knew I didn’t have a choice anymore.