Page 21 of His Secret Baby

He raised an eyebrow. "And you couldn't just ask her?" I was trying to look through the rest of the information, and he was starting to annoy me.

"She didn't want to see anyone. And the hospital has rules in place." Rules I'd already bent, but he didn't need to know that. "This is all the information you found? I'll write you a check. What was the amount?"

He told me, and he gave me a few tips about how the information was organized and his number should I have questions before I was able to usher him out of the office. I sat back down and continued looking through the folder. Nothing jumped out at me. Single mom. No partner. Part-time jobs, one at a flower shop. That explained the commentary from her daughter. It was actually an impressive amount of information, just none that seemed to answer my question about who this woman was to me. I sighed, and flipped to the last page.

This was all information about the daughter. It was perhaps scarily informative, including her name ("Makayla"), her birthday, and even where she went to school. I made a mental note to have my security team make sure my information was secure. I looked at the daughter's birthdate. Five years ago. A shiver went up my spine, the kind you get when your body knows something is coming before your brain has had a chance to catch up. What did it matter when the daughter was born, though? I hadn't even asked for information on her; the P.I. had just been especially thorough.

But then for some reason, my brain started doing the math. If she'd been born five years ago, that meant she was conceived six years ago...

The realization hit me like a freight train.

It was six years ago, and I was in a sauna, staring down at a woman with long blonde hair and big green eyes. And then back in my room, looking down at that same woman again, as she...

It couldn't be.

But the longer I thought about it, the more certain I became. I felt a chill sweep through my body. When I'd taken the flowers to the hospital, I hadn't gotten a name, but I had forced myself to get a good look at the woman... What was her name? I flipped back to the first page. Deira.

I closed my eyes and pictured her. Her face now seemed older, more tired, and was of course half-covered in bandages. But when I pictured the woman from the sauna, they looked the same.

I felt my breath catch and wondered if I was having a panic attack. I put my head on my desk and breathed deeply, willing myself to think through this logically.

How could it be the same woman if I hadn't recognized her?

Though I guess, technically, I had. Suddenly all the glimmers of memory made sense. The autumn sunshine outside the hospital had reminded me of our brief conversation on the resort balcony. The steam in Scott's bathroom had reminded me of the sauna. My subconscious had been trying to give me clues all along. Maybe the trauma of the crash had slowed my brain down, and so it had taken four days and the private eye's report for the rest of me to put it together.

I went back to the report, looking for ways to prove to myself that it was her. But I wasn't sure what I was looking for. After all, I'd known nothing about that woman. That was why I couldn't find her then. I felt a surge of excitement in my gut. I'd looked for her for months after that night. And somehow, years after I'd given up, the universe had brought her back to me. I was too practical to believe in fate, but even I had to pause for a moment at that luck.

I wondered if she'd recognized me. I didn't think I'd changed very much, but if I hadn't realized it was her, it only made sense that she might have been similarly clueless. Then again, she'd acted strangely, hadn't she? Could it be that she had recognized me, but didn't want to see me? Why?

And that was when the other shoe dropped.

The child. Conceived six years ago.

I dropped back into my chair, feeling like I'd been punched in the gut.

It wasn't possible, though. Was it? I tried to remember if the kid looked like me. I hadn't really been paying attention though, ironically preoccupied with getting a good look at her mother.

"There's no way," I said aloud to my office. But I was already thinking the opposite, that there was a good possibility. A very good possibility. After all, I couldn't find her. What were the odds she could have found me? Even if she had something this important to tell me. She would have had to deal with everything – the choice to have the baby, the pregnancy, the birth, raising the kid—all on her own.

Or maybe she wanted that, a voice in my mind whispered. I didn't want to believe that, but it suddenly seemed very probable. After all, wouldn't you recognize the father of your child? And if she had recognized me, and hadn't said anything...

Maybe I was still stinging from Michelle's betrayal, but I couldn't help but see clues that were pointing in this direction. She'd been so eager to get me to leave every time I'd been in her room. Despite my apologies and offers of help, she'd been insistent that it was all unnecessary, and that she needed her space. I'd interpreted the way she interacted with me to anger over the accident. But what if it was actually fear that I would find out?

I shook my head. None of this speculation was important right now. The first step was to go talk to her, and find out for sure one way or the other.

I made it to the hospital in what was probably record time. I hurried through the halls to the private suite. I stopped outside the door and tried to calm myself. It was best to go in with an open mind and a civilized demeanor. To give her the benefit of the doubt. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then pushed open the door.

The room was empty.

Maybe she'd been taken for another scan.

Or she might have suddenly gotten worse. That thought made me feel a little sick.

I sought out a nurse and asked her about the patient in that room. She had me follow her to the nearest computer, where she typed a few things into the keyboard and then frowned.

"I'm sorry, sir. It looks like she was discharged earlier today."

Frustration bubbled up inside me and I tried to temper it.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com