Chapter 142 You Wh0re!
June
"What do you mean you’re pregnant — and the father is Tobias?" I blink hard, sure I misheard her. My eyes go wide as I grab Leila’s wrist and pull her closer. "You’re joking, right? This is some kind of prank? Where’s Kayla? Is she filming this?"
Leila shakes her head, her expression drained. "No prank." She bends down, drops the trash bag she was holding, and slowly walks over to the couch.
I trail after her, heart racing.
"It was… a one-night thing," she says quietly, biting her nail. "We were drinking, talking — and then, it just… happened."
I sit beside her, gripping her cold hands. "Oh my God. Is that why you asked me if I was dating Tobias? Leila, we are—"
"Forget that," she cuts in quickly, voice trembling. "I was being stupid. After that night, we hung out for a while. He… he asked me out."
I blink, confused. "And you said yes?"
She shakes her head. "No. I said no. I didn’t know if I loved him enough to start something serious. My life’s already a mess as it is."
I study her face — tired eyes, nervous fidgeting — and suddenly I can’t tell whose mess is worse, hers or mine.
"Do you love him?" I ask softly.
Leila hesitates. Her gaze drops. "I don’t know. I took a few off days — something I never do — just to walk with him. Talk. It felt good." She looks up at me, half-smiling. "So maybe I do. But if you want him, you can have him. I just wanted to tell you about my situation."
A short laugh slips from me — not mocking, just… helpless. "Have him? Leila, you don’t get it. I’m not really dating Tobias. We were—" I scratch my neck awkwardly. "We were fake dating. It wasn’t real."
Her eyes widen a little, then narrow in disbelief. "Wait. What?"
I shrug, suddenly very aware of how stupid that sounds out loud.
"Yeah. It wasn't real. You guys weren't supposed to know about it."
Leila nods slowly, her lips parting to release a shaky sigh.
"It wouldn’t matter though," she says quietly.
My brows pinch together. "What do you mean it wouldn’t matter? You’re pregnant, Leila. That’s a big deal."
She lets out a small, broken laugh and shakes her head. "I’m not keeping it." Her smile is faint, the kind that hurts to see. "I don’t think I can handle it. I don’t even know what my mom would say. She’d scold the heck out of me—"
"Hey, hey," I cut in softly, reaching to hold her hands. "Take a deep breath first, okay?"
She nods once, breathing in and out shakily.
"Does he know?" I ask gently. "Tobias, I mean."
Leila exhales, rubbing her palms together. "I wanted to tell him at first, but when I found out you two were dating, I decided not to. I didn’t want to make things messy. I mean, we didn’t plan for any of this, and I doubt he’d even—"
"Hell no," I interrupt, reaching into my bag for my phone. "It wasn’t expected, sure, but things happen. He deserves to know."
I scroll through my contacts, pressing his name and putting the phone to my ear. It doesn't ring.
"Hey hey. It's Tobias. Leave a message if it's urgent..."
"Don’t tell him anything," Leila says quickly, her voice trembling. "Please, June. It’ll just make everything complicated."
"La, he needs to know what’s going on." I try again, pacing a little as I wait. When the call drops again, I curse under my breath. "Fuck—Tobias took a work leave. He probably—"
"—went camping," Leila finishes for me, her voice small. "And he turned off his phone so he wouldn’t be disturbed."
I look at her, and she looks so fragile sitting there—shoulders hunched, eyes glassy, hands tangled together. My chest tightens.
"See, I don’t know why Tobias agreed to fake date me after being with you," I start, my voice soft but steady, "but I do know one thing. The whole time we talked, every single conversation somehow came back to you. I didn’t think much of it then, but now I can see it. I think he loves you, Leila. Maybe that’s why he went along with the fake dating thing—to make you realize how you really feel about him. Which is weird by the way."
I sigh, leaning back on the couch. "Although that was my reason for suggesting that stupid game in the first place. But the outcome wasn’t exactly what I imagined."
Leila narrows her eyes. "What do you mean?"
I look at her, debating for a moment before deciding there’s no point hiding anything anymore. "I was sleeping with my boss," I admit quietly, "and I fell for him in the process."
Leila’s hand flies to her mouth. "Wait—the same boss who treated you like crap?"
A small, broken laugh slips out of me. "Yeah. That one. He loves me too though… or at least I think he does."
Leila shakes her head, eyes wide. "But he’s getting married, June. If he’s really going through with that, then he doesn’t love you—not the way you deserve. No wonder you were so quiet that night we heard the news. I thought you were just… grieving or something."
I sniff, trying to smile but failing. "Yeah, well, I’m done with him now. It’s over. I’m quitting my internship tomorrow."
"What? Why?" Leila snaps. "If it’s over, it’s over. Why throw your internship away too?"
"Because his fiancée knows," I say, lowering my gaze.
Her jaw drops. "Oh my God. Are you serious?"
"Yeah," I whisper, staring at the floor. "So if I quit, at least I’ll have some peace of mind."
Leila’s eyes soften, and before I know it, she’s pulling me into a tight hug. "Oh, June. You’ve been through so much ever since that one night stand. He’s like… a curse to you."
I press my face against her shoulder, tears threatening again. "Maybe he is. But we’re both going through hell right now, La. We’ll overcome it. We have to."
She nods, holding me tighter, and for a brief second, it feels like the world outside her arms doesn’t exist.
The next day, I’m back in the office, my palms slick as I squeeze the resignation letter I drafted this morning. The paper’s already wrinkled from how hard I’ve been holding it. I bite my lip, wishing—just wishing—I was still at the strategy department. Handing this to Mr. Scott would’ve been easy. But now… I have to give it to her. Natalya Voss. My current supervisor.
Leila’s words echo in my head, "Don’t be sad, J. This is for the best."
"Well," I mutter under my breath, forcing out a dry laugh, "she’ll approve it fast. It’s what she’s always wanted—me out of her sight and away from her man."
I take a shaky breath and knock on the door.
"Come in," Natalya’s voice floats from inside, calm and sharp as ever.
I push the door open, mumble a greeting, and place the letter on her desk before my courage disappears.
She doesn’t even look up at first. "Where’s my milkshake?" she asks, staring at her always annoyingly perfect manicured nails. "And why are you late? You do know we have a lot to do today."
My jaw tightens, my hands curling into fists. "I’m resigning, Miss Voss," I manage, keeping my tone even. "That’s my letter of re—"
"Didn’t Hermes tell you?" she interrupts, finally raising her head, her tone suddenly serious. "You’re not quitting this job."
I blink, confused. "I don’t understand. Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to disappear from your world?"
My voice cracks a little on that last word, frustration burning under my skin. What more could she possibly want from me now?
Natalya rises from her chair slowly, her heels clicking against the marble floor. When she stops in front of me, the air feels heavier.
"Oh, you’re far from knowing what I want, girl," she snarls, snatching the letter from the desk.
Before I can react, she rips it in half — the sound of tearing paper slices straight through my chest.
My mouth parts in disbelief. "You—"
"I won’t approve your resignation, Miss Alexander June," she says sweetly, her lips curling into a cruel smile.
My anger simmers, trembling just beneath my skin. "Then I’ll submit it to HR and have them approve it," I snap, voice rising. "Because I can’t stand you!"
Her eyes darken instantly, her expression sharpening into something dangerous. "What did you just say?"
My heart pounds, but I don’t back down. "I said I can’t stand—"
Slap!
The sound cracks across the room before the sting even registers. My head jerks to the side, my cheek burning hot.
For a second, everything goes silent except the rush in my ears.
Then Natalya leans in close, her perfume choking the air between us.
"Shut up, you whore," she spits.
I stand frozen, my hand pressed against my cheek, eyes stinging—not from the slap, but from the humiliation crawling down my spine.