His Secret Heir In Her Arms
Chapter 3
Ivana stared at the button on his jacket. She couldn't look him in the eye anymore. The shame was a living thing, eating her from the inside out.
Aleta was smirking behind Gannon's shoulder.
Ivana reached down to grab her tote bag. As she did, the unpaid invoice from Dr. Evans fluttered out from the folder.
It landed right next to Gannon's shoe.
Gannon looked down. He saw the logo of the hospital. He saw the bold text: PAST DUE. And the number: $50,000.
Ivana lunged for it.
Gannon watched her scramble, his expression unmoving. He didn't step on it, but he didn't move out of the way either. He simply looked at the paper as if it were a piece of gum on the sidewalk-something beneath his notice, yet utterly revealing.
Ivana froze, her hand inches from his shoe.
She looked up at him. "Please," she whispered.
Gannon kicked the paper slightly, flipping it over so the total was obscured. It was a dismissive gesture, one that hurt more than if he had trampled it.
"Need money?" he asked. His voice dripped with disdain. But beneath the scorn, his eyes flickered with a dark calculation. If she had taken millions, why was she desperate for fifty thousand? The math didn't add up, and Gannon Sharpe hated unbalanced equations. But his anger was louder than his logic.
Ivana closed her eyes. If he knew she needed money for her mother, he might investigate. If he investigated Elena, he might find out about the time gap. About where Ivana had been. About Cohen.
She had to make him hate her. Hate was safe. Hate kept him away.
She forced her lips into a smile. It felt brittle, like cracked glass.
She pulled her hand back and stood up, dusting off her knees.
"Actually, yes," she said. Her voice shook, but she forced a tone of casual greed. "The millions didn't last as long as I thought. Europe is expensive."
Aleta gasped. "You have no shame!"
Gannon's face hardened. The muscle in his jaw jumped. He scanned her face, looking for the lie, but her mask was perfect.
"So you're back for a refill?" he asked.
Ivana shrugged. One shoulder. A casual gesture that cost her every ounce of her strength. "You have plenty, Gannon. You wouldn't miss a check or two."
The air around Gannon seemed to drop ten degrees.
He stepped back. He looked at her with such profound revulsion that Ivana felt physically sick.
"You are disgusting," he said.
The words slammed into her.
He turned to Aleta. "Let's go."
Gannon turned his back on her. He walked away, his stride long and angry. Aleta shot Ivana a triumphant glare and trotted after him, hooking her arm through his.
Ivana watched them go. She watched the man she had loved since she was twenty-two walk away, believing she was a monster.
She waited until they turned the corner.
Then, her legs gave out. She slid down the wall, clutching the dirty invoice to her chest.
She checked the paper. It was wrinkled, but legible.
She folded it carefully and put it in her pocket.
Her phone buzzed again. An automated text from the hospital billing department.
Payment required within 24 hours to proceed with treatment.
Ivana pulled herself up. She wiped her face. She had to fix this.
She walked back to the room, composing herself before she opened the door.
Elena was awake. Her eyes were cloudy.
"Did you pay?" Elena whispered.
Ivana nodded. She picked up a knife and an apple from the bedside table. "Yes, Mama. I worked out a plan. Don't worry."
Her hands were shaking so badly she almost cut her thumb.
Dr. Evans came back an hour later. He pulled Ivana into the hallway.
"I can't start the full dialysis without the deposit," he said gently. "I need that five thousand, Ivana. Today."
Ivana pleaded. "Give me forty-eight hours. Please."
Dr. Evans sighed. "Forty-eight hours. That's it."
Ivana sat on the bench in the hallway. She opened her banking app again.
$342.
A text came in from Mrs. Higgins, the neighbor she paid to watch Cohen in the motel room.
He needs more formula. And I need my pay for last week.
Ivana stared at the screen. Cohen. Her sweet, innocent boy who had Gannon's eyes and Gannon's allergies.
She couldn't let him starve.
She transferred $300 to Mrs. Higgins.
Balance: $42.
She hadn't eaten in two days. Her stomach cramped, a sharp, twisting pain.
She walked out of the hospital. The midday sun was blinding.
She couldn't afford a car. She couldn't even afford the subway if she wanted to eat something later.
She walked to the bus stop.
The heat radiated off the sidewalk. The air shimmered.
Ivana stood by the metal pole. Her head felt light. Black spots danced in her vision.
She swayed.
A black car pulled up to the curb. It was sleek, silent, and massive. A Maybach.
The window was tinted so dark it looked like a mirror.
Ivana didn't pay attention. She was focusing on breathing. In. Out.
The window rolled down.
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