Chapter 11
Spencer King sat quietly at his desk, the light from the wide office windows spilling across the polished surface. He stared at the printed hospital statement Owen had handed him minutes ago. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the report—three weeks along, urine test confirmed, patient: Jessica Cooper.
Three weeks.
His jaw tightened slightly.
Three weeks ago was that night. The night she stumbled, flushed and clearly intoxicated, into his hotel suite. Pushed there by Chelsea, he now suspected. She had been mistaken. Lost. And clearly... a virgin.
Spencer leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. His chest ached strangely. No woman had ever made his world feel this off-balance.
He didn't want to rush to her doorstep and demand an explanation. That wasn't his style.
He picked up his phone and dialed her number.
Once. Twice.
She answered on the third ring.
"Miss Cooper."
Jessica sat up in bed, her heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. She glanced at her phone screen—Mr. King.
She hated that even seeing his name made her heart race.
"Mr. King," she said coolly.
That voice. Too calm. Too poised. As if nothing in the world had happened between them.
Spencer's voice remained steady, but a hint of tension lingered. "I was just checking in. You missed the signing today."
Hearing him brought everything back—last night's vomiting, the blood test, the doctor's words echoing in her mind.
Three weeks pregnant. Tilted uterus. One chance.
And he was the father.
Of course, it was him. That night three weeks ago—he had been the one. She had no doubt.
Jessica bit her lip hard to steady herself. "If this is about the contract, find someone else to sign it. I had a personal accident."
Spencer's voice didn't waver. "But if you don't sign it personally, you won't return to the company."
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. "Why does Mr. King care whether I come back or not? Is that your business?"
Her words were sharp, biting.
Instead of taking offense, Spencer found himself staring at the phone, more intrigued than irritated. Her defiance only made her more captivating. "Is Miss Cooper in a bad mood?" he asked lightly.
"Yes!" she snapped, her patience thinning.
"Why's that?" he countered gently, as if he were sitting across from her and watching every subtle change in her expression.
"That's my personal business, and I have no obligation to answer you."
Spencer raised an eyebrow on his end. "Is it… that time of the month?"
Jessica froze, her entire face flushing scarlet. If only it were that simple…
Her heart pounded violently in her chest. "Can Mr. King call at another time? I'm busy right now," she mumbled, looking anywhere but at the report still lying on her bedside drawer.
Silence.
Then Spencer's voice, colder this time: "Is there anything you wish to let me know?"
Jessica's chest tightened, and her lips trembled as she searched for a response. He knew. She could hear it in his tone—an edge of quiet demand, of certainty.
But she couldn't let herself be weak.
"If Mr. King wants to hear something from me, besides the contract, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed," she said flatly. "We're not close enough to talk about anything other than business."
And she hung up.
The moment the call ended, Jessica sank back against the kitchen counter. She could barely feel her limbs as she reached for a glass of strawberry juice and a small piece of cake Cecelia had left for her.
She stared at them blankly.
This child… this baby… was hers now.
She would keep it.
It didn't matter that it was unplanned. It didn't matter that Spencer King—cold, elegant, unreachable—was the father. This child was a part of her now, a life growing inside her, and she would love it with every fiber of her being.
She wrapped both hands around her glass, whispering into the empty kitchen, "Even if you were a mistake, I won't abandon you."
Meanwhile, at King Enterprise, Spencer sat in brooding silence. His gaze had shifted from the hospital report to the city skyline outside his office window.
She didn't want to tell him.
Why?
Because she thought he wouldn't care? That he was the kind of man who treated people like pawns?
His eyes narrowed.
Spencer King was used to being in control. Of his empire. Of people's perceptions. Of every negotiation.
But not of this.
Not of Jessica Cooper.
And certainly not of the child she now carried.
"She's going to hide it from me," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.
Owen, who was standing nearby, cautiously spoke up. "Sir, shall I continue observing her movements?"
"No," Spencer said quietly, then stood and reached for his coat. "That's enough for now."
He paused, eyes shadowed with an emotion even he couldn't name. "She'll come to me. Eventually."