His Unwanted Ex: The Pregnant Baker's Comeback

CLAIRE POV:

I don't know how long I stayed curled up on the bed, until my tears ran dry and my throat ached. I stared at the ceiling, counting the minutes.

I forced myself to sit up, looking around the bedroom I once thought of as "our home." There were no pictures of us on the walls. My things took up only a small corner of the closet. Looking at it now, the signs were there all along.

I got out of bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floor, and my body shivered.

I walked into the living room and saw his jersey draped over the sofa—the blue, white, and red of the New York Rangers, the captain's "C" stitched on the chest. I used to feel so proud of that jersey.

I reached out, my fingertips brushing against the rough fabric, then recoiled and pulled my hand back.

The electronic lock on the apartment door beeped, and the door swung open. I spun around as Hale walked back in.

He had changed into a tailored suit, his short blond hair combed perfectly. He carried himself with the crisp efficiency of a man heading into a boardroom.

I watched him warily, my voice hoarse. "What are you doing back here? To see how pathetic I look?"

He ignored my sarcasm and walked straight to the bar. From his inner suit pocket, he pulled out a checkbook.

He uncapped a pen and leaned against the counter, writing something. The scratch of the nib on the paper echoed in the quiet room.

My stomach dropped. I couldn't believe what he was about to do.

He finished writing, tore out the check, and walked over to me. He held it out between two fingers.

I didn't take it. My eyes fell on the string of numbers. Six figures. Enough to start over anywhere in New York, to even open a bigger bakery than the small Brooklyn branch I currently managed.

This money was the price for my two years of youth, the fee to buy my silence about our relationship.

I looked up, meeting his icy blue eyes, and asked, word by word, "What is this? A breakup fee?"

"This will make your life easier," he said, his face completely devoid of expression. "I don't want any future complications."

"Complications?" I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "So that's what I am to you? A complication?"

He frowned, as if my reaction was unreasonable. "Claire, don't be like this. It's better for both of us."

"Us?" I shot back sharply. "There is no 'us' anymore. You decided to put on a show for the world with Angelique Price!"

At the mention of her name, his expression didn't change. "She's suitable. Her family background, her social status... everything fits the requirements."

I looked at him, this man talking about his future "fiancée" as if he were evaluating a commodity.

"And with her," he added, "the media will stop digging into my private life. It's good for the team, for the sponsors."

I finally understood. I lost to a business plan.

I took a deep breath and snatched the check from his hand.

He loosened his shoulders, thinking I had accepted it.

Right in front of him, I slowly tore the check in half. Then into four pieces, then eight.

I tossed the scraps into the air. They fluttered down around us and landed on the hardwood floor.

I watched the shock on his face, a vindictive pleasure coursing through me. "Hale Jones, I am not a woman you can pay off. Take your money, and your perfect PR girlfriend, and get out of my life."

I turned and walked toward the bedroom, refusing to look at him again.

But before I could reach the door, a strange sensation suddenly tightened in my lower abdomen.

I stopped in my tracks, my hand instinctively pressing against my stomach. The discomfort wasn't painful, but it was unfamiliar enough to make me frown.

For a moment, I stood there, confused by my own body's reaction.

Then a faint wave of dizziness followed, and a sudden feeling of nausea rose in my throat.

I covered my mouth instinctively, forcing myself to breathe through the uncomfortable sensation.

The strange sensation didn't fade. A dull ache remained in my lower abdomen, accompanied by a wave of nausea that left me slightly unsteady.

I steadied myself against the wall and took a slow breath, trying to understand what was happening to my body.