Chapter 49
Maya's POV:
I woke up gasping.
Heart pounding against my ribs, sheets tangled around my legs.
Fuck.
Just a dream.
But it felt so real.
Julian's face in my mind, laughing at me.
"Maya, seriously? You thought I was serious? Look at me. Do I look like the kind of guy who settles down?"
In the dream, I'd stood there frozen, relief flooding through me.
Then the scene shifted.
Adam's face replaced Julian's, his hands on my throat.
His gray-green eyes were cold.
"You had my child without telling me? Did you think you could just keep her? Amy belongs to the Sterlings now. I'm taking her."
My hands clawed at his wrists.
"You'll never see her again, Maya."
That's when I woke up.
---
I grabbed my phone.
2:37 AM.
Scrolled through my contacts with shaking hands, then hit Chloe.
She answered on the third ring, her voice thick with sleep.
"Mmm...Maya? You okay?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you—"
"It's fine." I heard rustling. "What's wrong?"
"I think I'm about to lose my job."
Silence.
"Wait, what? Did Garrison fire you?"
"No. Not yet." I swallowed hard. "Julian asked me out. Yesterday. After work. He said he wanted to take me and Amy to dinner, said we'd be a family. And now I can't—I can't face him, Chloe. How am I supposed to work with him after that?"
"Ignore him."
"I'm his assistant. I can't ignore him."
"Maybe he's joking. Come on. It's Julian Garrison. The guy's a total player."
"He was so serious. It wasn't a joke."
"Then start looking for something else. Send out some resumes. And if things get unbearable at Garrison, then you leave. But you have Amy. You can't just walk away without a backup plan."
She's right.
Of course she's right.
My mind drifted back to those months after I quit my job to take care of Amy myself.
---
The first nanny had come with good references—or so I thought.
Riley. Middle-aged. Professional on paper.
I'd hired her when Amy was barely five months old, desperate to get back to work after burning through my savings.
But within weeks, I knew something was wrong.
Amy was always fussy when I got home, her diaper soaked through, her face red and blotchy from crying.
One day I came home early because a client meeting got canceled.
Found Riley on the couch with her phone, some reality show blaring on TV.
Amy was in her crib in the bedroom, screaming.
I'd rushed past Riley and scooped Amy into my arms, her little body hot and trembling.
Riley barely looked up from her phone.
"She's been fussy all day."
I checked Amy's diaper—soaked through for hours.
Looked at the kitchen—dishes piled in the sink, my unwashed breakfast plates covered in dried food.
"Did you use those to feed her?"
Riley shrugged. "She's a baby. She doesn't care."
Within two weeks, Amy was sick.
Diarrhea that wouldn't stop, fever spiking to 102.
The pediatrician at MGH said it was probably a bacterial infection from contaminated utensils.
I fired Riley the next day.
---
The second nanny was younger, more energetic.
Came with glowing reviews from an agency in Cambridge.
I'd installed a nanny cam after Patricia—just a small one tucked in the bookshelf, motion-activated.
One morning at work, I pulled up the feed on my phone.
Just to check.
Amy was on the couch.
Alone.
Playing with her stuffed elephant.
Where's the nanny?
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Amy crawled to the edge of the couch, her little body wobbling as she tried to climb down.
No.
I called the nanny.
No answer.
Watched Amy's tiny body teeter on the edge, one leg dangling off.
She was going to fall.
I ran out of the office without my coat or bag, drove home in a blind panic, ran two red lights.
Burst through the apartment door.
Amy was on the floor, crying, a red mark on her forehead where she'd hit the coffee table.
The nanny was still gone.
I picked up my daughter and held her tight, checked her pupils, felt for any swelling on her head.
Five minutes later, the nanny walked in with grocery bags.
"Oh, you're home early!"
I fired her on the spot, my voice shaking with rage.
---
After that, I quit.
Took care of Amy myself.
Didn't trust anyone else.
Those months were hard—living off savings, skipping meals so Amy could have fresh fruit, buying generic diapers and formula, watching my bank account dwindle.
But Amy was safe.
That's all that mattered.
---
I never asked Chloe for help.
Never borrowed money.
Never admitted how close we came to running out.
I needed to prove to myself that I could do this alone.
Stupid.
Chloe's right.
It was stupid.
I rolled over and closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come.
All I could think about was Julian's face tomorrow morning.
Maybe it'll be fine.
---
It was not fine.
I got to the office at 8:45, earlier than usual.
Julian's door was still closed, the lights off behind the frosted glass.
Thank God.
I dropped my bag at my desk and started organizing files for the morning meeting, trying to focus on the spreadsheets and quarterly reports.
Don't think about it.
Just work.
At 8:55, I heard footsteps in the hallway.
Julian's distinctive gait—confident, measured—was heading toward the office.
I grabbed a stack of papers without even looking at what they were.
"I need to use the restroom."
Sarah looked up from her computer with a confused expression.
"Right now? The meeting starts in—"
"Yeah. Can you handle this?" I shoved the papers at her. "Just put them on the conference table."
I didn't wait for her to finish, just speed-walked toward the bathrooms and locked myself in the furthest stall.
Coward.
I stayed there for ten minutes before forcing myself to leave and return to my desk.
Julian's door was still closed, but I could see his silhouette through the frosted glass now.
Good.
---
The rest of the morning dragged by.
I avoided Julian as much as possible—sent Sarah to deliver files to his office, sent Mark to refill his coffee, sent them both to bring him lunch.
By 3 PM, I was exhausted from the constant vigilance, hunched over my desk sorting through contracts.
"Ms. Bennett?"
I looked up.
Rachel.
Thomas Garrison's executive assistant.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Thomas Garrison has decided to transfer you to the chairman's secretarial office." Her voice was polite but firm. "Please pack your things and come with me. You're being reassigned effective immediately."
"She's not going anywhere." Julian's office door slammed open.
He stood in the doorway, his face dark with fury, his blue eyes blazing.