My Baby Is Not Yours

Start Reading

A bone-deep chill swept through me, settling into my marrow.

In that moment of clarity, I realized the man I truly needed to findthe real father of my childwas the last person I ever wanted to see.

The fuse for this explosion was lit at a high-school reunion dinner, where my husband, Mark, had spent the last hour treating me like a sideshow attraction. Hed had too much bourbon, his arm draped possessively yet dismissively over the back of my chair as he described my "genetic gifts" to a table of leering men. He boasted about my "maternal constitution," claiming my breast milk was a miracle elixirpart beauty secret, part performance enhancer for men who wanted to "regain their edge."

The table erupted. Drunk on expensive scotch and toxic entitlement, the men began to hoot and holler, demanding to see the "liquid gold" for themselves.

Thats when Tinsley, Marks lifelong "best friend" and the woman who had been a thorn in my side since our wedding day, stood up. She swirled her wine, a predatory glint in her eyes as she sauntered over to me.

"Andie, sweetie, Mark shows us the photos of you pumping every day," she purred, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "He says were all family, so theres no harm in sharing. I have to say, those pictures are... quite provocative."

She turned to Mark, her tone shifting to a playful, mocking lilt. "Why don't we let the boys have a taste of the real thing? A live auction for a fresh bottle. Whos the highest bidder, Mark? Where do we start the opening price for your wifes... services?"

The room dissolved into a roar of crude laughter. Tinsley stood there, basking in the attention, waiting for Mark to shut it down.

Instead, Mark took the glass from her hand, his expression unreadable. "Drinking isn't good for your health, Tins. Ill finish this for you."

Then, he leaned back, his eyes cold as they landed on me. "Its all in good fun, right? Let's start the bidding at a penny."

...

"Looking at those photos, its not just the milkthe wife is a total knockout!"

"Mark, you lucky bastard. No wonder youre always so full of energy."

"A penny for a miracle cure? Count me in for the charity drive!"

"Im gonna bid high, take it home, and pretend my old lady looks like Andie for once..."

The sounds of their muffled, greasy laughter scraped against my eardrums like sandpaper. I sat there, frozen, watching the scene play out like a car crash in slow motion.

Tinsley was practically sitting in Marks lap now. Shed pick up a piece of food she didn't like, take a tiny bite, and then drop the remains into Marks bowl. Without a second thought, Mark would pick it up and eat it.

It was a small gesture, but it cut deeper than the insults. When we first started dating, Mark told me he was a germaphobe. He said he couldn't stand the thought of "bodily fluids." On the night of our first kiss, he made me use antiseptic mouthwash three times before hed let his lips graze mine for a fraction of a second. He had maintained that cold, sterile distance for years.

But with Tinsley, the rules didn't apply.

"Andie, why are you just sitting there?" Tinsley asked, her voice cutting through the noise. "Youre the girl whod do anything for Mark, right? Everyone knows the storyhow you have a paralyzing fear of heights, but the moment Mark said hed only marry a woman whod skydive with him, you jumped without a second thought. This is just a little game."

"Yeah, don't be a buzzkill," one of the men added. "If Tinsley hadn't told us to call you 'Mrs. Dalton,' we wouldn't even know who you were."

"Tinsley was always the one meant for that seat," another voice muttered, loud enough for me to hear. "If you hadn't snuck your way in..."

The malicious whispers were cut short when Tinsley glanced at Mark with a look of practiced modesty.

"Stop it, guys," she sighed, though her eyes were dancing. "Even if I do send Mark my bikini photos every night to help him... 'unwind,' Andie is still his wife. Im just his little sister. Thats all Ill ever be."

The longing in her voice was palpable. Mark reached out and placed a bowl of hand-peeled shrimp in front of her. "If they want to speak the truth, let them. In this circle, Tinsley, your word is law."

The men exchanged knowing smirks. Under the table, my fingernails dug into my palms until I drew blood.

Shes just a sister, Andie. Shes high-strung, shes a tomboy, you need to be more understanding. That had been Marks mantra for three years. Today, the lie finally fell apart.

Tinsley reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a breast pump. "Well, Andie? Since youre being shy, let me help you."

She reached for the collar of my silk blouse, her movements aggressive. I shoved her away instinctively.

Tinsley let out a sharp cry, stumbling back and falling perfectly into Marks waiting arms. She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, then shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice.

Marks face contorted with disgust as he shielded Tinsley. "Andie, have you lost your mind? It was a joke! A game!"

"Shes my sister," he hissed. "The least you could do is show her some respect."

Sister. The word tasted like ash.

"Since you're so reluctant to play along with Tinsleys kindness," Mark said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy register, "well skip the pump. Well just go straight to the auction. Highest bidder gets it fresh, right from the source. After all, youre so 'generous' with me, whats the difference doing it in front of the boys?"

He let out a short, harsh laugh. "Opening bid: one cent."

"I'll bid five cents!" one man shouted, leaning forward. "After all, when I was short on cash for that merger, Andie emptied her personal trust to lend me five million. She hasn't even asked for it back. Its the least I can do!"

"Ten cents!" another yelled. "Mark gave me the rights to that downtown development projectthe one worth a hundred millionjust for being a 'good brother.'"

My heart stopped. That land... Mark had told me his company was on the verge of bankruptcy. He said he needed that deed to save the Dalton legacy. I had poured every cent of my own company, Becket Global, into securing that bid, only to hand it to him on a silver platter. He told me we lost the bid to a competitor. He didn't lose it. He gave it away to his drinking buddies.

"That's nothing," a third man laughed, his voice oily. "Mark gave me the deed to that private cemetery plotthe one where Andies father is buried. We cleared out the old man and the rest of her ancestors last week. Dug 'em up and tossed 'em in a ditch somewhere out in the sticks. For that kind of friendship, Ill bid a whole dollar. But not a penny more. She isn't worth the extra change."

The room erupted in a bidding war of insults. Tinsley giggled, leaning her head against Marks shoulder, watching me bleed out emotionally.

She stood up slowly, her eyes locking onto mine. "Since everyone wants a taste, I shouldn't be the villain. Why don't we just forgo the bidding and let everyone share? Andie is such a 'giving' person, Im sure she won't mind."

She looked back at Mark with a playful wink.

I was shaking so hard the water glass in my hand shattered against the floor. The sound was like a gunshot.

I looked at the man I had loved, the man who had sat silently through this entire nightmare.

"Mark," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Are you really okay with this?"

Mark frowned, but when Tinsley gave his hand a little squeeze, his expression hardened into a mask of indifference.

"Why not? If it wasn't for that 'heirship contract' you signed with my mother, Tinsley would be the one standing here. Youve given me the child. But you haven't even begun to pay back what you took from her."

Took from her?

If his mother hadn't drugged me and locked me in a room with him, I would never have been in this position. And Mark hadn't been drugged. He knew exactly what he was doing that night.

I fought back tears, my jaw aching from the tension. "Mark, your mother told me the company was failing. She told me I was signing a medical release for your surgery. She said shed only sign the consent forms for your life-saving operation if I stayed and took care of you."

Marks face stiffened for a split second, a flicker of unease crossing his eyes, before he shouted over me. "Lies! All of it! This is just another one of your schemes to drive a wedge between me and Tinsley. When I was in that accident, Tinsley was the one who paid the bills! You were out spending the money my mother got from liquidating the company! You drugged me to get pregnant and secure your spot in this family. Tinsley is the only one who ever defended you, and now I see exactly who the monster is."

His gaze softened as he looked at Tinsley, then turned back to me, frigid. "My child will be raised by a woman like Tinsley. As for you and that little brat... you can both rot for all I care."

Tinsley stiffened slightly at the mention of the baby. Her voice turned unnaturally sweet. "Mark, the baby is innocent. Hes yours, after all. Ill make sure hes taken care of. But... with Andies 'unstable' mental state, I worry she might hurt him in private. If it were me..."

She let the sentence hang, heavy with implication. I knew what she wanted. Tinsley was infertile; she wanted my son to complete her image of the perfect life. And Marks mother wanted my bloodline to inherit Becket Global. They wanted the money, the legacy, and the childbut they wanted me gone.

"Andie," Mark said, his voice flat. "For the sake of the boy, youre handing him over to Tinsley. Only a woman as pure as her can raise a son of mine to be a decent man."

I felt the blood drain from my face. My legs felt like lead.

The men were still circling, waiting for their "prize." I lowered my head, my voice barely a whisper.

"And what if Toby... what if he isn't yours, Mark? What if hes only mine?"

The words were lost in the roar of the room. Mark saw my lips move, and for a moment, a flash of genuine terror crossed his face.

Tinsley, sensing the shift, took a jade bracelet from her wrist and dropped it.

Clink.

The pale green stone shattered into two pieces on the hardwood floor. My heart stopped. That was my mothers braceletthe only thing she gave me before she died. I remembered her thin, frail hand clutching mine in the hospital, her eyes burning with a final, desperate light.

"Andie, if you're ever in trouble, send this to 187 East Bay. Keep it safe. Promise me!"

I had kept it in a biometric safe. Only two people knew the code.

The coldness in the room turned into a blizzard.

"Oops!" Tinsley cried, feigning shock. "I'm so clumsy. Mark said this was just some piece of junk he found, so I thought Id play with it. Now that its broken, I guess it belongs in the trash. You don't mind, do you, Andie?"

I dropped to my knees, gathering the shards. The sharp edges sliced into my fingers, but I didn't feel the pain. I just held them tight.

Marks eyes flickered to my bleeding hands, but Tinsleys voice pulled him back. She pointed at the front of my blouse, where my milk was starting to leak through the silka physical reaction to the stress and the thought of my baby.

"Look! She can't wait!" Tinsley laughed. "I won't keep the boys waiting any longer. Let's see how 'miraculous' she really is."

Mark looked at me, a flash of genuine revulsion crossing his face at the sight of my damp clothes. The men began to close in like wolves. I scrambled back, pulling my phone from my pocket. Id been dialing a number for twenty minutes. It finally connected.

I threw the phone onto the table in front of Mark. "You love being 'Mr. Dalton,' don't you, Mark? But lets remind everyone who owns the chair youre sitting in. Becket Global is 99% mine. And your mother is on the line."

Mark froze at the sight of the caller ID. He picked it up with trembling hands. The background noise of a high-stakes bridge game on the other end went silent.

"Mother?"

"Get home. NOW," a sharp, authoritative voice barked through the speaker.

At least, in this one moment, Beatrice Dalton would protect what was hersthe "propriety" of her family name.

Marks face was a study in repressed rage, his knuckles white as he gripped the phone. In total silence, flanked by a smug Tinsley and a phalanx of disappointed men, we left.

The moment we stepped into the Dalton manor, Beatrice was there, a forced smile on her face. She pulled me toward the dining table, her voice thick with maternal manipulation.

"Andie, dear. Your mother and I were best friends. She wanted this marriage for you. She wanted you to have a good life with Mark."

She leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "Mark is a successful man. There are temptations everywhere. If a woman can't hold her husband's heart, what use is she? And Tinsley... shes like a daughter to me. You need to stop being so paranoid. Its unseemly. Mark saved your life once; you should be showing him your gratitude."

"A man is the head of the house, Andie. You need to lean on him. And since you aren't doing anything with those shares, you should transfer them to Mark. Prove to him that youre a devoted wife."

Mark sat to the side, looking like a pouting child. Beatrice kicked his leg under the table, and he looked away with a huff.

I stayed silent. But a different kind of silence was bothering me. The house was too quiet.

Beatrice kept talking, her voice droning on until...

"Andie, if you won't think of yourself, think of the baby. Do you really want him raised by a mother whos a"

The baby.

Toby was usually a whirlwind of noise by this time. He should have been crying for a feeding. My stomach dropped.

I sprinted toward the nursery and threw open the door.

My vibrant, happy boy was lying in his crib, his breathing shallow, his face swollen and red.

I gathered him into my arms, his tiny body limp. As I turned to run, I collided with Mark in the doorway. I fell to the floor, curling my body around Toby to protect him.

"Mark, please!" I screamed, looking up at him with pure desperation. "Take him to the hospital! Something is wrong!"

Beatrice stood behind Mark, placing a hand on his shoulder, pulling back the hand he had instinctively reached out toward me.

"Mark, a house needs order," she said coldly. "Andie was very disrespectful tonight. She needs to learn her place."

She looked down at me, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. "I gave him a little peanut butter before you got back. Just a taste. I figured a little 'lesson' would remind you who runs this house. Its just a minor allergy, Andie. Stop being dramatic."

"A minor allergy?" I gasped. Toby was gasping for air. "Hes anaphylactic, you monster!"

"Mark," Beatrice said firmly. "Think of how much Tinsley has suffered because of this woman."

Mark looked at me, then at his mother. Slowly, he withdrew his hand. The hesitation in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, stony resolve.

I gathered every ounce of strength I had and tried to bolt past them, but Mark blocked the way. He shoved me back into the nursery and locked the door from the outside.

I screamed. I begged. I threw myself against the wood until my shoulders were bruised and my voice was gone. Mark stood on the other side, his silhouette visible through the frosted glass, silent and unmoving.

When the house finally went quiet, I heard his footsteps fade away.

I slumped against the door, my heart shattered. Tobys tiny hand reached out from his swaddle, feebly grasping my finger. Even in his distress, his little face tried to form a weak, innocent smile, as if trying to comfort me.

I looked at my son, his life slipping away, and I looked at the large floor-to-ceiling window.

I stripped the silk curtains and the heavy bedding, knotting them together into a makeshift rope. I strapped Toby to my chest with my scarf and climbed out into the night.

I hit the ground hard. I didn't realize Id lost my shoes until I was running down the asphalt of the gated community, my bare feet bleeding. I flagged down the first car I saw.

The window rolled down, revealing a sharp, elegant jawline and a pair of eyes that seemed to see right through me. He looked at me, then at the baby in my arms.

"Miss Becket?" he asked, his voice a rich baritone. "What happened?"

Before I could answer, he was out of the car. He didn't ask questions. He took Toby from my arms and sprinted to the passenger side. "Get in. Now."

At the hospital, he was a blur of motion, carrying my son into the ER while I stumbled behind him.

I waited outside the ICU, clutching the business card he had pressed into my hand before he stepped away to handle the paperwork.

Zavier Knight.

Watching Toby through the glass, hooked up to a dozen tubes, a tidal wave of fury rose within me. If they wanted a war, I would give them a massacre.

I pulled out my phone and sent a single encrypted message. Then, after a moment of hesitation, I put the broken shards of the jade bracelet into an envelope and addressed it to the address my mother had given me years ago.

187 East Bay.

The next morning, every official social media account for Becket Global posted the same message:

"Celebrating the return of our CEO. We are giving away 0-0 million to 100 random followers who share this post. The Queen is back."