“No,” Natalie agreed. “She threatened me with a prenup once, but that’s different.”
His phone buzzed again.
His mother.
“Mother,” he said.
“I never offered her money,” Victoria said without preamble. “Someone’s spreading lies. First Charlotte leaks the pregnancy, now this. Carter, someone is trying to hurt all of us.”
The next morning, Victoria Sullivan showed up at Natalie’s apartment without warning.
Gran let her in, then crossed her arms and did not leave the room.
“Miss Spencer,” Victoria said, immaculate as ever in a designer suit. “We need to talk about the article claiming I offered you money.”
“I told the press you never said that,” Natalie said tiredly. “They printed it anyway.”
“I didn’t come to discuss false stories,” Victoria said. She set her expensive purse on the table. “I came to make an actual offer.”
Natalie’s heart sank.
“Mrs. Sullivan—”
“Five hundred thousand dollars,” Victoria said crisply. “To leave. Quietly. To give Carter space to focus on his family and his business without… distractions.”
The word “distractions” hit like a slap.
Natalie looked at the envelope, then at Victoria, then at Gran—who looked ready to throw the envelope out the window.
“No,” Natalie said.
“Be reasonable,” Victoria replied. “That’s more money than you’ll make in ten years translating contracts. You could move anywhere in the United States. Start fresh. Raise your child comfortably.”
“Without a father,” Natalie said.
“If it is his child,” Victoria retorted. “We don’t have proof yet.”
“Then wait for the DNA test,” Natalie said. “But I’m not taking your money.”
“Why not?” Victoria demanded. “Pride?”
“Because you want me to tell my child their father didn’t want them,” Natalie said, standing. “That I took money to disappear. What kind of mother would that make me?”
“A practical one,” Victoria said. “Pride doesn’t pay rent.”
“I grew up without parents,” Natalie said. “My mother died. My father was never around. Do you know what that does to a kid? You spend your life wondering if you’re worth loving. Wondering what’s wrong with you that made them leave. I won’t do that to my baby. Not for any amount of money.”
Victoria’s expression flickered—something almost like respect—then smoothed back into coolness.
“My son deserves better than this,” she said sharply. “Better than you.”
“Then let him decide that,” Natalie replied. “You don’t get to decide for him.”
Victoria left in a swish of tailored fabric.
Natalie collapsed onto the couch.
Gran sat beside her and pulled her close.
“That woman,” Gran muttered. “Needs to learn some manners.”
