Loving my Billionaire Stepbrother's Baby

by Emilia Beaumont

  “Now there, that’s better isn’t it? See, you don’t have to cry. Everything is going to be okay; Daddy’s home,” Drake turned to me as he said those last words, and I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or the baby.

  “Does anyone fancy a cup of tea?” Sigrid asked as she headed toward the kitchen. “Vi? Drake?”

  “Sounds good,” I said knowing the rush of sugar and hot liquid would do me well.

  “Yeah, but I’ll come and help you,” Drake said and managed to lift himself off the sofa with the baby securely in the crook of his arms. “Hey, why don’t you find a movie we can watch? And we’ll be right back,” he said with a smile. A smile that seemed far too broad, too excited for the occasion. It was just tea for god’s sake, I thought. Then as they both disappeared around the corner together, into the kitchen together, I understood. He wasn’t excited about tea at all. He was happy about being alone with Sigrid.

  I tried to shake off the feeling and grabbed for the small electronic console that controlled the flat screen and all the gadgetry in the apartment. I’d go through the motions of doing what he’d suggested but I wouldn’t be too far away from them. I flicked the screen on and scrolled to a satellite channel that only ran films, twenty-four-seven, then slowly got up from the sofa. The leather seemed to crinkle and announce my every movement and I winced. Ten feet away I heard whispers and stood stock-still. Was this the moment that my whole life would come crashing down?

  “We can’t Drake.” I heard Sigrid’s voice.

  “Why not?” he replied back in a whisper. I edged closer. They were doing their very best not to be heard, I thought.

  “It’s not fair to Vi. We can’t do this. Not now.”

  I swallowed. So my eyes hadn’t deceived me. Unless my ears were in on the conspiracy, too.

  “It’s for the best, Siggy. You know it is. Please do it for me? I need you to do this for me.”

  “She’s my best friend!” Sigrid whispered in a harsh forceful tone. At least she was putting up a fight. “She’ll be furious!”

  “Let me worry about that. I want you—”

  The sound of the kettle coming to a boil filtered through from the kitchen into the living room, drowning out their voices.

  I don’t know how long I stood there, staring into space, at the adjoining wall that was shared with the kitchen. It was only when I heard the loud metal clatter of a teaspoon against a mug, stirring in the milk and sugar, that I came to my senses and backed slowly toward the couch.

  Almost as soon as I sat back down Drake reappeared, a sleeping baby in his arms and a pleased grin on his face, as if he were a cat that just got all the cream. “Did you find us something to watch?” he asked innocently.

  Chapter Seven

  I was a stranger in my own house. I would go to sit down but was never sure where exactly. So I would linger, going from room to room, wandering about like a guest. Awkward and out of place. It was like I was a borrowed item, only meant to be there for a short time. And now all my usefulness and welcome was worn out.

  And it wasn’t as if anybody corrected me on what I was feeling. Drake was never there to begin with and Sigrid for the most part left me alone. She didn’t really want to come near me if I was being honest. She was avoiding me. A guilty conscience? Sure she would put on her fake “it’s-time-to-pity-Vi” smile and offer me countless cups of sodding tea. It got to the point where if I was indeed paranoid I would think she was trying to poison me. Tea. I laughed. As if that was going to fix everything. The miracle cure that could wash away all one’s worries. The only thing I knew that would be powerful enough to do that was the sea.

  I shook my head and tried to stay on task.

  Though Sigrid did keep her distance I knew she was keeping tabs on me. The side glances, the careful monitoring. It was obvious what she was doing.

  I was in Drake’s bedroom, heading toward the walk-in wardrobe. And if they truly had something to hide, she would be nervous. She’d be feeling guilty that I was in here for any length of time, if I was right. The room itself was square with two doors, one that led to the bathroom and the other back to the bedroom. I stopped up short as I eased the door that led to the bedroom closed. This wasn’t Drake’s bedroom. It was supposed to be our room. Our marriage bed. But funny how over the course of only a few weeks I’d felt I’d suddenly lost the right to be in here. That it was no longer mine and had reverted back to being utterly and completely his… and maybe Sigrid’s.

  The search for her clothes had been going on for a few days now. I’d started in the less obvious areas, like the luggage room where all of our suitcases and large impractical items were stored, like our skis or Drake’s golf clubs. I thought I was being clever choosing that room to search first. It was the perfect place to hide her change of clothes in one of the suitcases that were normally empty. A place where I wouldn’t normally go.

  I’d inspected each and every one. Even the large bag printed with brown fleur-de-lis all over it that had been just out of reach. I’d managed to bring it down, using one of Drake’s golf clubs to hook the handle. Fishing it toward me and onto the floor. The moment the club took its weight I knew there was something inside. The bag bulged at the bottom, cradling its contents, and in my still-weak state it was a struggle to not just let go and let it crash to the ground.

  But when I unzipped it, my reward for all that exertion was an old forgotten North Face jacket, puffy and quilted. Drake’s. I brought it to my face. His scent still lingered within the material. I’d closed my eyes. I missed him dearly. But he was a lying, cheating, piece of shit and I was determined to catch him.

  The same smell; strong, woody, with the barest hint of vanilla hit me again, bringing me back to the present as I got closer to his side of the rails. His suits were all neatly hanging up. Regimented and tidy. As were his shirts, gleaming white with stiff collars. But I wasn’t there to look at his clothes. My goal was above me. I looked higher to the closed-off shelves. Little cupboards that I had no way of seeing into unless I was over six feet tall—which I was not—or if I had a stepladder—which I did.

  I’d managed to haul the thing in and hide it on my side the day before. I’d leaned it on the far wall and my clothes—ones I hadn’t even looked at for weeks—dangling from the rail obscured the red mental frame of the folded two-step ladder.

  I quickly brought it out and opened it up, then set it firmly at the base of the cupboards. With an extra foot or so I knew I’d be able to find out if there was anything untoward hidden up there.

  It was an effort to heave myself up the first step. I clenched tightly ahold of the cold metal and got ready to step up again, trying to keep my balance and not to wobble. The difference was only fifteen centimetres or so, but it felt like a million miles away. My legs were heavy, like wet sand, and though I was also only slightly off the ground on the first step, I felt lightheaded, nauseous. But it wasn’t just the exertion that was bringing on my sudden weak state, it was what I might find that was pushing my body further and further toward an edge, closer to a panic attack.

  I tried breathing deeply. Both hands were on the mental support.

  Did I really want confirmation? Did I really want to know if my husband was cheating on me? Or that my best friend had betrayed me?

  I wouldn’t be the first woman to have lost her husband to another woman after she’d given birth, and I wouldn’t be the last. But I needed to know for sure. Not knowing for certain would drive me crazy. The seed had already been planted and I needed to see if when I drew back that cupboard whether it had bloomed or not.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Sigrid asked as she opened the door and saw me standing on the stepladder. “You shouldn’t be up there. You’re still recovering, Vi!”

  “I just,” I started willing my brain to come up with a plausible excuse. But my mouth went dry. I was a child again, caught hunting for Christmas presents. My dad towering over me and telling me I was a naughty girl. Guilt consumed me. I was
somewhere where I shouldn’t be, I knew that. Doing something I wasn’t supposed to. Drake’s bedroom practically had an off-limits sign posted on the door.

  “If you needed help to get something, you should’ve just asked. I would’ve done it for you.”

  It was then I snapped. Slowly but surely Sigrid had been doing things for me, even things that I was very capable of doing by myself now. Including helping me pump my breast milk, in the hopes that one-day my boy and I could try again. She would gather up all the equipment and never let me do a thing. Yes, I was still recovering but I wasn’t a total invalid. I didn’t need to be talked down to, either. God, it was like they were all against me.

  “I don’t need you of all people doing things for me,” I spat, the rage taking over.

  “What?” she asked, puzzlement clouding her face. Oh, she was a good actress, I would give her that. And the Oscar goes to…

  “You know exactly what I mean. I don’t need you pretending. I don’t need you to come in here and act like my friend.”

  “Vi? I—”

  “And I certainly don’t need your help right now!” I shouted. The very force of my anger burst through me and I was caught off balance. My body shifted one way and the stepladder under my feet slipped the other way, and I came crashing down onto the floor. My hands went out to protect my body, but regardless I went down, gravity won the fight.

  “Oh, god.” Sigrid was next to me in an instant, kneeling down as I landed with a heavy cry. “Are you okay? Maybe you shouldn’t move.”

  My head had hit the thick-carpeted floor, and could already feel the tenderness around the side, near my ear. But I was more worried about my healing incision. Had I just undone the weeks of it knitting back together? I fumbled with the edge of my shirt after I slowly propped myself up on my elbow.

  “Vi, I really don’t think you should move. I think I’ll call your doctor or an ambulance.”

  “Shut up, will you?” I said as I explored my tender stomach. I was okay. Sore but okay. “I’m fine.” I hoped.

  “Let me help you up.”

  “Don’t touch me.” Slowly I turned my body, bracing my knees against the floor and shakily made it to my feet. I wobbled as I elevated myself through small increments of altitude. Sigrid grabbed my arm regardless of my warning and steadied me. I snatched my arm back and shuffled toward the wall, using that as support instead of her.

  “I’m only—”

  “Trying to help. Yeah, I know. Heard it all before.”

  “What’s got into you today? Actually what’s got into you this last week? You’ve been… different.”

  “I wonder why,” I said sarcastically and waited till my head was clear to start toward the exit. Sigrid hovered behind me, like a drone, always watching.

  “What were you looking for anyway? What was so important?”

  “Like you don’t already know the answer to that.”

  Sigrid shook her head. “I feel like I’m talking to the Riddler. I have no idea what you mean, Vi.”

  I waved her statement away and took another step away from her. She sighed.

  “Come on. Let’s get you back to your room.”

  “Yes, let’s take me back to where I belong, shall we?”

  Chapter Eight

  That night, secluded in my room, I lay in bed listening intently, waiting for Drake to come home. I didn’t feel comfortable going back out there with Sigrid still in the apartment. The questions she would ask would be too much. I wanted to see the baby. I wanted to see Leah. But I was rooted to the safety of the bed. And as much as I did want to confront Sigrid about my suspicions, I just wasn’t mentally prepared for everything to be over.

  Not yet.

  A tiny shred of hope clung to me like a wispy dandelion seed. One false move and it would be blown away, forever out of my grasp. It felt like if I lost that then I would really fall apart.

  Nothing seemed the same anymore. My whole life had been blown out of the water. Shaken and battered, the ship that was my soul was dangerously close to sinking.

  Again, I must’ve fallen asleep before he came back home as I didn’t hear the ding of the elevator or the low sound of his voice travelling down the hallways. A worrying thought that he could’ve used the stairs or even the service elevator in the back to disguise his entry popped into my mind. It was possible of course, but why? I knew why of course. I just didn’t want to think about it. But the nagging doubting spark wouldn’t leave me alone.

  What if he was sneaking back into his own home in order to avoid me? In order to be able to spend time with Sigrid without me ever being the wiser? He could’ve been home for hours and I wouldn’t have known it.

  The realisation that it could be true made me get out of bed and launch myself, faster than I had ever moved in the last few days, toward the door and down the hallway.

  The place was still. As if the apartment were a living thing, taking a breath and holding it, a moment before daybreak when it would have to wake up and start a new day with noisy appliances and buzzing electronic devices.

  But I sensed someone else. The place may have been quiet but it wasn’t empty.

  Standing outside of Drake’s bedroom—no, our bedroom, I thought angrily—I gripped the handle and pushed the door open. The wooden base of the door brushed against the carpet fibres with a gentle rustle. In the blue-grey gloom of the room I thought I saw something move in the bed, someone or someones being disturbed.

  I swallowed and urged my feet to move, and for once they actually obeyed and I was standing at the foot of the bed. The duvet was thick and lumpy, with two distinct outlines taking up occupancy beneath its warmth.

  So it was true.

  My marriage was over.

  With tears streaming down my face I turned. I had to get out, I couldn’t breathe. If I did I would gasp and splutter and cry. I’d wake them up. I couldn’t think why waking them up would be the worst thing in the world to happen, I just knew I didn’t want it to happen. I didn’t want it to be true.

  “Vi?”

  A figure on Drake’s side rose in the darkness. A hand came up to a face, rubbing it awake.

  “Vi? Is that you?”

  Who else would it be? I wanted to say but instead I left the room quickly. I hugged myself as Drake emerged from the room behind me. He gave me a look then as if he remembered something he turned and pulled the door softly closed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice a whisper and full of sleep.

  How on earth could I even start to answer that question, when most of the time I didn’t know. Everything was so wrong. So complicated. So mixed up.

  He closed the gap between us and I moved into the living room to maintain some distance. If he came near me, if I looked into those eyes, the eyes I knew I was suppose to love… well it terrified me.

  Drake paused. “You’re scaring me, Vi.”

  “You don’t have the right to be scared,” I said, finding my voice.

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  “You’ve ruined everything.” My mouth was moving, I couldn’t stop it anymore. It was as if the cork had been popped and there was no chance of getting the liquid back inside the bottle. My words would bleed out like a tipped bottle of claret.

  “Me? What do you mean? Sigrid said you weren’t making sense.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course. I wondered how long it would take for you to mention her.”

  Drake edged closer and I backed closer to the window. It was a bad move, I was trapping myself.

  “You shouldn’t have said those things, Vi. She was really upset. She was in tears when I got home.”

  “She was in tears?” I said, exasperated.

  He frowned, the gentle blue of the night hit him across his forehead as he stepped closer to the window.

  “Yes, she was.”

  “And I bet you comforted her right up, didn’t you?”

  He shrugged like he didn’t understand my meaning, not denying it but not confi
rming it either.

  “What did you do, Drake? Did you wrap your arms around her again and squeeze her tightly? Did you pull her close, so close that you could smell the scent of her skin beneath her perfume? Did you slip your hand down around her tiny waist? Did you get fucking hard when you touched her Drake?” I said, almost shouting.

  He stood silent, unmoving. Glaring at me.

  “Keep your voice down,” he growled.

  “Why? So I don’t wake up your future wife? I see how it is, you’ve had your bit of fun with me, but decided it’s much more interesting to try something new. Something risky. Especially when your current wife is sleeping just down the hall?”

  “What is this, Vi? Where the hell is this coming from?”

  He was inches from me and my back was pressed up against the cool glazing behind me. He was so close I could see the flecks in his eyes.

  “How can you ask me that when she’s sleeping in our bed right now.”

  “You think I’m having an affair?” he said, his tone even.

  I nodded and felt another tear slip down my cheek. “I don’t know for how long, but I know you’ve been fucking her. Right under my nose, too. It’s probably been going on ever since I was in the hospital. God knows you had plenty of time alone with her.”

  “I can’t listen to this,” he said and roughly grabbed my wrist.

  “Let me go,” I answered and tried to shake him off. But he was too strong. He’d always had been.

  “No.”

  He started to pull me across the room. Relentlessly he kept moving, towing me along, heading back toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

  “Drake, you’re hurting me. Let go!”

  He suddenly stopped and spun around. His face was in my face. “I will not let you go. You have to see this. So either you come willingly or I will drag you kicking and screaming into the room, okay? But I’d rather you be quiet. The baby was up all night and I’ve barely slept. You will not wake him up, do you understand me?”

  It’d been a long time since Drake had used that tone with me and I nodded my head and stopped resisting. He nodded back and still holding onto my wrist we went back into his bedroom again.