Comments swarmed across the screen like ants.
"Throwing up like that, she's definitely pregnant."
"Didn't she suddenly cancel all her California shows before? Was that pregnancy too?"
"Some mysterious singer. Probably knocked up and too ashamed to show her face."
"If the pregnancy gets confirmed, the company will probably shelve you or terminate your contract and sue for damages." Emma lowered her voice. "We can't afford that a second time."
"What do we do now?"
Emma chewed her nail, pacing the tiny room. Finally, she stopped. "Deny everything. I'll work my media contacts, push out press releases. We'll stick to the gastroenteritis and overwork story. You..." She looked at me. "I'll take some body shots of you. I'll get someone I trust to edit them, make you look hot. Public focus will shift. Once the timing's right, I'll buy some trending topics about your figure. This'll blow over."
A few days later, photos appeared online: "Nightingale Shows Off Fit Physique in Workout Shots." In them, my stomach was flat, lines tight. That night, I posted a bikini beach photo, proportions perfect. Sure enough, public attention shifted. Pregnancy speculation faded. A few clothing brands even reached out about partnerships, but my suspension put those on hold.
One ordinary afternoon, I went out for groceries. The supermarket was two blocks down from the apartment, a ten-minute walk. I pushed my cart, tossing in whole wheat bread, low-fat milk, and bananas. The list was long, but I was already tired.
I turned into the baby products aisle to check the price of baby wipes.
And I saw a figure.
Tall build, impeccably tailored dark overcoat, hair slicked back without a strand out of place, broad shoulders radiating power...
Richard.
God, what was he doing here? Was my anxiety making me hallucinate, or had he... actually tracked me down?
I shoved my cart toward the other side and dove into the gap between two tall shelves stacked with diapers and baby bath products.
I held my breath, peering through the gaps between products, eyes locked on that direction.
Then he turned his face slightly.
Not him.
I slid down the shelf to the floor, collapsing. The cart tipped over beside me, apples rolling out. A passing kid gave me a weird look.
Damn it. I'd been scared out of my mind by someone who just looked like Richard.
I couldn't go on like this. I needed to forget Richard.
But I had absolutely no idea how to make that happen.
Chapter Fourteen
Richard
"Sir, here's the information you requested on Nightingale."
I dropped the Asia-Pacific quarterly report the moment I heard that, reaching for the file David handed me.
More thorough than I'd expected.
Streaming revenue, performance cuts, monthly cash flow... My eyes paused on those numbers for a second. Not enough to cover one of Natalie's dresses. But honestly? Enough for her to live decently in Vegas. Maybe even save a little if she bothered being careful with money.
I flipped to the spending records. Recent purchases. Vitamins, folic acid supplements, loose casual clothes and dresses in soft fabrics.
Vitamins? I frowned but didn't dwell on it. Maybe Vegas water didn't agree with her. But those loose clothes... not her usual style. She used to prefer cuts that showed her figure... Come to think of it, when I'd lifted her onto that bathroom counter last night, she'd felt heavier than before. So Natalie preferred whatever processed garbage Vegas served over the balanced meals I'd arranged for her every day...
