Part 3I Married My Best Friends Father

"Mr. Kerwin," I said, my voice steady now. "I hope we can start over and reintroduce ourselves properly. I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other in the boardroom."

As the town car pulled away from the estate, I could feel the weight of his lingering stare on the back of my neck. I didn't look back.

Since Richard had promised to ensure my divorce went smoothly, I didn't have to waste a single ounce of energy worrying about asset division.

I made one phone call and had a team of movers pack up every single thing I owned from the townhouse.

I also left a very clear warning for my husband—no, my ex-husband.

I told him I already had an ironclad file of evidence proving his affair with Bernice, and if he ever showed his face near me again, I’d ruin him.

In my past life, I had convinced myself that his infidelity was my fault—a byproduct of my supposed inability to give him a child after years of marriage.

But when I woke up in this timeline and hired an investigator, the truth made me sick to my stomach. He and Bernice had been sleeping together since the very beginning.

They had played me for a fool for years.

You both wanted to play dirty? Fine. Welcome to the mud.

Sitting in the quiet of my new apartment, I rested a hand over my flat stomach.

I could already feel it. One shot was all it took. A new life was already taking root inside me, waiting for the perfect moment to bloom.

For the next month, despite having my card, Richard didn't reach out.

I wasn't worried.

With Bernice hovering around, she was doing everything in her power to keep her father away from me. But I was supremely confident that Richard couldn't just erase me from his mind.

The memory of that night was hammered into his brain like a silver nail, impossible to ignore.

Meanwhile, I threw myself into my work. I was the CEO of my firm, and by pure, beautiful coincidence, our upcoming project involved a direct partnership with Kerwin Enterprises. Up until now, all our correspondence had been digital.

By the time the in-person summit rolled around, my baby would be exactly six weeks along.

I ruthlessly polished the project proposals, settling for nothing less than absolute perfection.

Leaning back in my ergonomic office chair, I let out a long exhale, quietly thanking the universe for the timing of this rebirth. I was at the absolute peak of my life—young, sharp, and radiant. I hadn't been bullied into quitting my career to focus on IVF. I hadn't spent my days acting as a live-in maid for my horrid mother-in-law. I wasn't bloated, exhausted, and practically gray from the stress of it all.

The day of the negotiation, I walked into the Kerwin boardroom wearing a tailored, powder-blue power suit, a thick stack of flawless dossiers in my arms.

Richard was seated at the head of the long glass table. His eyes were sharp and unyielding, but the second he saw me, a micro-expression of shock cracked his facade.

I treated him like a complete stranger. I offered a polite, professional smile as I slid the documents across the table toward him.

As he reached for the file, his fingertips brushed against mine. I felt the sudden, electric jolt of his body heat, and my heart gave a calculated little flutter. Our eyes locked, and the air in the boardroom suddenly felt incredibly thick.

I led the presentation. Derek, my ex-husband, was technically still a partner on paper, but he sat beside me looking like a deer in headlights, muttering useless filler words while I dominated the room. It only served to make my brilliance shine brighter.

I yielded no ground during the negotiations. After an hour of intense, exhilarating back-and-forth, we reached a highly lucrative agreement.

The room erupted into polite applause and cheerful corporate pleasantries.

As I was packing up my briefcase, preparing to escort them out, Bernice suddenly appeared from the hallway. She grabbed my arm, dragging me into a quiet alcove, her eyes blazing.

"Don't think I didn't see you making eyes at my dad in there," she hissed. "Are you still delusional enough to think you're going to be my stepmother?"

I smoothed down the lapel of my jacket, my expression perfectly serene. "Whatever do you mean? I was just doing my job. Honestly, instead of obsessing over my love life, you should worry about your own. I've already divorced Derek... so why hasn't he put a ring on your finger yet?"

Her face drained of color. She stammered, "How... how did you know? I mean—what kind of crazy nonsense are you talking about?"

"You were right about one thing, though," I said, letting a slow, venomous smile spread across my face.

"I really, really want to hear you call me Mom."

I paused, leaning in close. "I'm pregnant," I mouthed the next words so only she could read my lips: With your dad's baby.

Bernice’s face contorted in sheer, unadulterated madness.

She lost her mind. Screaming a string of obscenities, she lunged at me, her manicured hands clawing wildly.

I let her push me. I hit the hardwood floor hard, a sharp jolt of pain radiating up my spine.

The hallway descended into chaos. Executives shouted. Richard pushed through the crowd, his face pale with panic, and violently yanked Bernice off of me.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Richard roared.

I looked up at him, letting the tears spill over my lashes in a torrential flood. "I don't know!" I sobbed, clutching my stomach. "I thought Bernice just wanted to catch up, and then she just attacked me!"

Bernice pointed a shaking finger at me, hyperventilating. "She's lying! My dad would never—he only wants me! He's not having any more kids! Tell them you're lying about being pregnant!"

Before she could finish the sentence, Richard’s hand connected with Bernice’s cheek. The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the dead-silent hallway.

Bernice stumbled back, holding her face in disbelief. "You... you hit me? For her?"

Richard’s jaw was clenched so tight I thought it might shatter. "Enough! Not another word. The truth is, Helen and I... we've been seeing each other since her divorce."

Suddenly, one of my assistants gasped, pointing at the floor. "Oh my god, she's bleeding!"

I looked down. A small pool of crimson was seeping into the fabric of my skirt.