Too Late For Regret: His Secret Heir

The heavy iron doors of the federal detention center groaned.

Jake pushed them open.

The freezing November rain of New York hit him instantly. His muscles locked. The cold seeped straight through his thin cotton shirt, but he didn't care. He was out.

He scanned the dark street through the downpour.

He found her.

Grace stood under the yellow glow of a streetlamp.

Jake's heart slammed against his ribs. He ran out into the rain. He opened his arms, wanting nothing more than to bury his face in her neck and breathe her in.

Grace stepped back.

Her spine hit the cold metal of the signpost. She gripped the handle of her black umbrella so hard her knuckles turned completely white. The hard plastic dug into her palm, leaving a deep red indent.

She kept the umbrella between them. A physical barrier.

Jake's arms froze in the air. The rain plastered his dark hair to his forehead.

"Grace?" His voice was hoarse. "What's wrong?"

Grace stared at his chest. If she looked into his eyes, she would vomit. Her stomach was already churning, twisting into tight, painful knots.

"We're done, Jake," she said.

Her voice was flat. The heavy sound of the rain masked the violent shaking of her vocal cords.

Jake blinked. Water dripped from his eyelashes. He reached out, trying to grab her wrist. "You're just scared. It's okay. I'm out on bail. We can figure this out."

Grace violently yanked her arm away.

"Don't touch me," she snapped.

She forced her chin up. She looked at his face. She memorized the way the rain hit his cheekbones.

"I am done," Grace said, raising her voice over the storm. "I am sick of this. I am sick of the lawyers, the panic, the empty bank accounts. You are a bankrupt loser, Jake. I am not going down with you."

Jake stopped breathing.

He stood perfectly still in the mud. His chest stopped moving. He stared at her like she had just driven a knife into his stomach.

"Jake, let's go. The car is waiting." His lawyer, David, hurried over from the waiting car, his expensive leather shoes splashing in the puddles. He was using his briefcase as a makeshift umbrella against the downpour, his shoulders hunched against the biting wind.

Jake shoved the lawyer backward. He didn't take his eyes off Grace.

He took one step closer. He invaded her space.

"Look me in the eyes," Jake whispered. His eyes were bloodshot. "Look me in the eyes and say that again."

Grace looked up. Her heart cramped so hard she felt it in her teeth.

Her face remained completely blank.

She shoved the black umbrella directly into his chest.

The hard plastic handle hit his sternum. Jake stumbled back half a step. The physical force of her rejection knocked the wind out of him.

Grace turned around. She walked toward the black sedan idling at the curb.

She didn't look back.

"Grace!" Jake screamed.

His voice tore through the rain. It was a raw, bleeding sound.

Grace grabbed the cold metal door handle of the car. Her fingernails scraped against the paint.

Suddenly, a blinding white light flashed from the alleyway. Then another.

Paparazzi.

Jake raised his arm to shield his eyes from the camera flashes. The sudden blindness made him lose his footing in the wet mud.

Grace pulled the car door open and threw herself into the backseat.

She rolled the window down just an inch.

"Do not contact me again," she said to the crack in the glass.

Jake rushed the car. He slammed his bare hands against the wet window. He left a smear of blood from a scrape on his palm against the glass.

"Drive," Grace choked out.

The driver slammed on the gas. The tires screeched against the wet asphalt.

The car shot forward. Jake lost his grip. He fell hard to his knees in the dirty puddle.

Grace looked in the rearview mirror. She saw Jake kneeling in the mud, watching her taillights.

The coldness in his eyes replaced the love. He hated her.

The dam broke. Tears flooded down Grace's face. She covered her mouth with both hands to muffle her violent sobs. Her chest heaved so hard she couldn't pull air into her lungs.

"Bravo. Very convincing performance."

Alexis sat in the passenger seat. He turned around and held out a tissue. A smug smile stretched across his face.

Grace ignored the tissue. She wiped her face with the back of her wet, freezing hand.

"I did what you wanted," Grace said. Her voice was a low, venomous hiss. "Now keep your end of the deal. Let him go."

Alexis chuckled. He pulled out his phone and turned the screen toward her.

It was an email from the prosecutor's office. The fraud charges against Jake Miles were being dropped.

"A deal is a deal," Alexis said. He adjusted the expensive cuffs of his suit.

The car hit a deep pothole.

Grace gasped. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through her lower abdomen.

She bit down on her bottom lip so hard she tasted copper. Her face lost all its color, turning a sickly, ashen gray.

Alexis narrowed his eyes. "Are you alright?"

Three days ago. Grace's apartment. She had stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the plastic stick on the sink. Two pink lines. Clear as day. Her hands had trembled so violently she almost dropped it. She had pressed her palms flat against her still-flat stomach and felt the world shift beneath her feet. She was pregnant. Jake's baby. The secret had settled into her bones like a knife she couldn't pull out.

And now—

Grace immediately sat up straight. She swallowed the thick bile rising in her throat. She forced her breathing to slow down.

"I'm fine," she lied.

She pressed her hand flat against her stomach, hiding the secret growing inside her.