Chapter 4

Bronwyn's POV

With every word we’d traded since last night, the realization hit me: I never truly knew the man I’d given five years of my life to. This was who he really was.

He hadn’t bothered to close the door when he came in, and the argument had already drawn a crowd outside the office.

Their whispers drifted in, loud and clear.

“Gold diggers are everywhere these days. Can you blame Mr. Pryce for being careful? Instead of understanding, she throws a tantrum?”

“She’s this worked up? Guess somebody hit a nerve.”

“I’d bet money he pulled strings to get her hired in the first place.”

As the murmurs grew louder, the smirk crept back onto Gideon’s face.

Romilly, reading the room, got bolder.

“Bronwyn, you made up a whole surgery just so you wouldn’t have to pay Gid back?”

“And now there’s no surgery, but here you are throwing a fit at work. You can’t be this fake and this selfish, can you?”

She paused, then laughed behind her hand.

“First it’s a medical emergency. What’s next—you’re pregnant? Classic baby-trapping.”

Someone in the doorway snorted.

Gideon laughed too, taking his time adjusting a cuff link.

“If you ever actually come at me with a pregnancy, the first thing I’m doing is ordering a paternity test.”

The room erupted.

“Good for him. Women like that will do anything.”

“Faking being sick for money isn’t enough—now she’s going to try to trap him with a baby.”

“Someone like her has no business being a mother.”

Without thinking, I pressed a hand to my stomach.

Four days ago, that place inside me had gone empty.

I opened my mouth—and met Gideon’s eyes.

Enjoyment. Smugness. And a trace of self-righteous hurt.

When he saw me looking, he even put on a show of being the bigger man.

“All right. I think Wyn knows she was out of line. I let it go a long time ago.”

“Next time you don’t want to pay me back, just say so. It’s not like I’m going to chase you down for it.”

“And that surgery of yours? I’ll come with you sometime. I’d love to see what kind of surgery it actually is.”

That sealed it. The whole office was outraged on his behalf. Everyone agreed I didn’t know how good I had it.

“Mr. Pryce is way too nice to her. I would’ve called the cops.”

“I can’t believe Bronwyn’s like this. I used to split my lunch with her because I felt bad she always brown-bagged it.”

Even the coworkers whose pitch decks I’d stayed up all night fixing, even the intern I’d personally trained—every one of them had climbed onto the moral high ground and was pointing at me with everyone else.

My eyes moved slowly from one familiar face to the next. Every one of them looked like a stranger’s. Finally, I looked at Gideon.

I said it slowly, so no one could miss a word.

“Gideon Pryce, why don’t you do the math right now, in front of everyone? Five years. How much of your money did I spend? And how much of mine did you?”

“If it turns out you owe me, you’re paying back the three hundred and sixty thousand dollars in salary you’ve been withholding. In full. With interest.”

“Otherwise, you and this company can both expect to hear from my lawyer.”

Gideon’s expression changed.

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Of course nothing did.

For five years, I’d paid the rent. I’d done the cooking. When he had a fever, I was the one who sat up with him all night.

When he said he wanted to do an executive MBA but couldn’t quite cover the tuition, I was the one who sent him six months of savings without a second thought.

Looking back now, that had probably been another one of his “tests.”

I had given him so much more than he had ever given me.

I let out a short, scornful laugh.

That’s when Romilly shoved me hard from behind.

I pitched forward. My knees slammed into the floor.

A tearing pain ripped through my lower belly, so sharp my vision went black.

I bit down on my lip and braced both hands flat against the carpet. It was the only thing keeping me from curling into a ball right there.

Something warm was seeping out of me, and I couldn’t stop it.

Romilly stood over me.

“Bronwyn, stop twisting everything! How could Gid possibly owe you money? Keep spreading lies and we’ll call the police right now.”

“And if you end up in jail, who’s going to pay for your precious ‘surgery’? Apologize to Gid. Now.”

She actually thought she could still scare me.

But I had nothing left to lose.

That’s when something stirred at the back of the crowd.

It was Tess.

An assistant in HR. The only person at this company who used to quietly leave a hot cocoa on my desk when I worked late.

Three days ago, from my hospital bed, I’d texted her a photo of my doctor’s note and asked her to submit my leave request for me.

She pushed her way through the crowd. When she saw me on the floor, the blood drained from her face.

She had a document clutched in her hand, and she held it straight out to Gideon.

“Mr. Pryce, Bronwyn’s leave request has been sitting in your approval queue for three days.”

“You’re the one who said anything involving her had to be signed by you personally.”

Gideon snatched it out of her hand.

“Leave? What’s this, another new trick?”

He held the page up for everyone to see, like an exhibit at a trial, and read it out in a mocking drawl.

“Leave type: Pregnancy Loss...”

He snorted and turned to Romilly.

“Look at that. You called it. Now she’s making up a pregnancy—”

His eyes dropped to the doctor’s note stapled behind it.

His voice cut off.

“...eleven weeks’ gestation... ruptured ectopic... ”

His lips kept moving. No sound came out.

The date on that note was the day he’d pushed those receipts across the table at me.

The same day he’d swiped his card for Romilly’s Birkin.

The office had gone so quiet you could hear the hum of the air vents.

Tess’s tears finally spilled over. Her voice was shaking so badly she could barely get the words out.

“The money for her surgery... someone drained it from her account that afternoon.”

“She was eleven weeks along. She lost the baby.”