Secret Baby: The Jilted Wife's Final Goodbye

They spilled out of the club's back exit into the alley, Nancy breathing hard. Sebastian followed, carrying Julian's coat.

Just as they reached the car, a group of men turned the corner.

Nancy froze.

It was Harrison Sterling-Julian's father-and three members of the board. They had likely been at a private cigar meeting nearby.

Harrison stopped. He looked at his son, who was swaying and muttering incoherently. His expression was thunderous.

"Julian?" Harrison barked. "What is the meaning of this?"

The board members exchanged looks. A drunk CEO was bad for stock prices.

Julian groaned. He looked like he was about to vomit.

Nancy reacted on instinct. She whipped off her trench coat and threw it over Julian's head and shoulders, hiding his disheveled state.

She stepped in front of him, blocking their view. She forced a sad, wobbly smile onto her face.

"Oh, Harrison," she said, her voice trembling perfectly. "I'm so glad it's you. Julian... he's so upset."

Harrison frowned. "Upset?"

"It's Fiona," Nancy lied smoothly. "Her nerve pain was terrible tonight. Seeing her suffer... it just broke his heart. He had a few drinks to cope. You know how deeply the Sterlings feel for their friends."

She looked at the board members. "Loyalty is a Sterling trait, isn't it?"

The tension broke. The board members nodded sympathetically. "Poor girl," one muttered. "Good man, Julian."

Harrison's eyes narrowed. He looked at Nancy. He saw the rain-soaked pajamas, the pale face, the protective stance. He knew it was a spin.

"Get him in the car," Harrison said quietly. "Good work, Nancy."

Nancy bundled Julian into the passenger seat. Sebastian stood by the open door. He looked at Nancy with a new expression. Respect.

"That was... impressive," Sebastian muttered. "You lie better than he does."

"I learned from the best," Nancy said, slamming the door.

She drove away.

Ten minutes later, her phone rang through the car's Bluetooth. It was Arthur.

"Harrison told me," the old man's voice rasped.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I handled it."

"You did more than handle it. You saved the morning share price," Arthur said. "Check your personal account tomorrow. Consider it a... wardrobe stipend."

"I don't want your money, Arthur," Nancy said softly.

"I know," Arthur replied. "That's why you're the only one worthy of it."

He hung up.

Nancy looked over at Julian. He was passed out, his head lolling against the window.

Suddenly, he groaned and shifted. His hand flailed out and landed on her thigh.

Nancy flinched, but she didn't move it.

His fingers curled, gripping her leg gently.

"Nancy..." he mumbled in his sleep. Not Fiona. Nancy.

His thumb stroked the fabric of her pants. It was a soft, seeking touch.

Nancy felt a tear slide down her cheek. She focused on the road, the rain blurring the red taillights ahead into long, bloody streaks.