Chapter 6

Clara left the bar feeling a mix of uncertainty and dread. Her encounter with Nathaniel had stirred thoughts she wasn’t ready to confront, and the weight of her secret loomed heavier than ever. By the time she reached home, the night air had done little to calm her nerves. Stepping into the living room, she was greeted by the sight of her stepmother lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

"Welcome, daughter," her stepmother called out, her tone unusually sweet. Clara froze, surprised by the sudden use of “daughter.” In all the years they had lived together, her stepmother had never referred to her in such an endearing way. Clara immediately sensed that something was off.

"Thank you," Clara replied cautiously, eyeing her stepmother. She could feel her suspicion rising. What game was she playing now?

But before Clara could analyze it further, a wave of dizziness hit her like a tidal wave. Her vision blurred, and the room spun around her. Before she could steady herself, her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the floor.

"Clara!" her stepmother exclaimed, rushing to her side. For a moment, her concern seemed genuine as she struggled to lift Clara. Somehow, she managed to carry her stepdaughter to her room. Laying Clara gently on the bed, she grabbed a small bowl of water and dabbed a cloth into it, sprinkling cool droplets on Clara’s face.

Clara stirred, her eyelids fluttering open as she regained consciousness. The first thing she saw was her stepmother’s face hovering over hers, a mixture of worry and something Clara couldn’t quite place.

"Are you pregnant?" her stepmother blurted out, her voice sharp with curiosity and suspicion.

The question hit Clara like a punch to the gut. Her eyes widened in shock as she struggled to maintain her composure. "Pregnant? No, of course not," she lied, her voice firm even as her mind raced. How had her stepmother guessed? Were her symptoms already so obvious?

Her stepmother studied her closely, her eyes narrowing as if trying to read Clara’s thoughts. "Hmm," she said finally, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Being pregnant isn’t a bad thing, you know. If you are, you should let me and your father know. It’s better to deal with these things openly," she added, her tone laced with feigned concern.

Clara felt a wave of unease wash over her. Why was her stepmother suddenly acting like she cared? It was so out of character that it made her more suspicious. "I told you, I’m not pregnant," Clara repeated, sitting up on the bed and fixing her stepmother with a determined look. "Thank you for bringing me to my room, but you can leave now."

Her stepmother’s smile deepened, becoming something almost sinister. She stood slowly, as if savoring the moment, and turned to leave. "Alright, dear," she said, her voice dripping with mock kindness. "But remember, if you need help, I’m always here for you." With that, she left, closing the door behind her.

Clara let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding. That smile. That dangerous, knowing smile. What did her stepmother suspect? And why was she suddenly playing the role of the caring guardian? Clara couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched, and that her stepmother’s intentions were anything but pure.

…….

The next morning, Clara forced herself to focus on her routine. Her two days off from work were over, and she needed to resume her duties at the school. It was the only semblance of normalcy she had left, and she clung to it desperately.

Dressed neatly in her work attire, she stepped into the school compound, greeting her colleagues as she passed. "Good day, Clara. Welcome back. I hope you’re feeling better now?" one of her coworkers asked, pausing to offer her a warm smile.

"Yes, I’m fine, thank you," Clara replied, her voice polite but distant. She couldn’t afford to let anyone see the cracks forming beneath her calm exterior. She quickly made her way to her desk, where she began tidying up her things. The familiar routine was comforting, even if only for a moment.

Once everything was in order, Clara headed to the principal’s office to inform him of her return. She knocked lightly on the door and waited for his voice to invite her in.

"Ah, Clara," the principal said, looking up from his desk as she entered. "It’s good to see you back. I hope you’re feeling much better."

"Yes, sir. Thank you for understanding," Clara said, managing a small smile.

"That’s good to hear," he replied, nodding. "We missed you around here; especially me. If there’s anything you need to ease back into things, just let me know."

"Thank you, sir," Clara said again before excusing herself.

As she walked back to her classroom, Clara couldn’t help but feel the weight of her secret pressing down on her. The school, her colleagues, her students: they were all part of a world she was desperately trying to hold onto. But how long could she keep up the façade? How long before everything came crashing down?

Her mind wandered back to Nathaniel’s business card, still tucked away in her bag. Was his offer a lifeline or a trap? For now, Clara didn’t have an answer. But one thing was certain: her life was on the brink of change, whether she was ready for it or not.

Clara’s day passed in a blur. She buried herself in work, hoping the chaos of lesson plans, grading, and managing students would drown out her spiraling thoughts. It worked, but only for a while. Every quiet moment brought back the looming questions: what to do about the pregnancy, how to deal with her stepmother’s suspicion, and whether to take Nathaniel up on his surreal offer.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Clara felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She stayed behind in her classroom, tidying up her desk and reviewing her notes for the next day. The silence of the empty school felt oddly comforting. She needed to think.

Nathaniel’s offer lingered in her mind like an itch she couldn’t scratch. It was absurd, yet strangely practical. If she accepted, she could pass off the pregnancy as part of the surrogacy agreement, avoiding the stigma and judgment she feared from her family and community. But at what cost? Nathaniel Brooks was arrogant, infuriating, and clearly accustomed to getting what he wanted. Could she really deal with him?

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from her father:

"Clara, are you coming home soon? Your stepmother said you seemed unwell last night. Let me know if you need anything."

Clara sighed, her heart heavy. Her father’s concern was genuine, but his attention was often overshadowed by her stepmother’s antics. If he found out about the pregnancy, he’d be devastated: not just by the news itself, but by the scandal it would bring to their family.

……

That evening, Clara took an alternative route on her way home, walking aimlessly through the city streets. The glow of streetlights reflected off the wet pavement, and the cool night air felt refreshing against her skin. She stopped at a park bench, sitting down to gather her thoughts.

She pulled Nathaniel’s business card from her bag, staring at the bold, sleek lettering. Nathaniel Brooks, CEO of Brooks Enterprises. His contact information was printed below, accompanied by a logo that screamed wealth and power. Clara turned the card over in her hands, debating whether to call him.

“What choice do I have?” she whispered to herself. The thought of confronting her pregnancy alone terrified her. At least with Nathaniel’s offer, she could shield herself from the inevitable questions and judgments.

Taking a deep breath, Clara pulled out her phone and dialed the number on the card. It rang twice before a deep, confident voice answered.

“Brooks speaking.”

Clara hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding. “It’s Clara,” she finally said. “The woman you met at the bar.”

There was a pause, followed by a hint of amusement in Nathaniel’s tone. “Well, well. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. Have you reconsidered my offer?”

Clara gripped her phone tightly, her voice steady despite her nerves. “I want to discuss it further. But we’ll need to set some ground rules.”

Nathaniel chuckled, the sound both irritating and oddly reassuring. “I admire your determination. Fine. Let’s meet tomorrow. My assistant will text you the details.”

Before Clara could respond, the call ended. She stared at her phone, a mixture of relief and apprehension washing over her. Tomorrow, she would face Nathaniel Brooks again, and with it, a decision that could change her life forever.

……

The next morning, Clara found herself in the lobby of a towering skyscraper, the headquarters of Brooks Enterprises. The receptionist directed her to a private meeting room on the top floor. As she stepped out of the elevator, she was greeted by Nathaniel’s assistant, a polished woman who exudes professionalism.

“Miss Clara Jones?” the assistant asked with a polite smile. “My boss is expecting you. This way, please.”