Chapter 16 :
After leaving the bank, Jessica Cooper checked her account balance on her phone.
The numbers flickered on the screen.
She breathed out slowly, her eyes focused, calculating. It's enough, she thought. Not luxurious, not ideal… but enough to raise a baby on my own.
She looked up at the city skyline outside the cab window. The skies were overcast, clouds hanging low, as if Summer City itself was holding its breath. She glanced at the time—1:00 PM. There was still an hour before her meeting.
Rooftop Café. Central Tower.
The name alone made her stomach twist—not from nerves, but nausea. She hadn't eaten much. Nothing seemed to stay down for long these days.
Central Tower was nestled in one of the busiest streets in Summer City—lined with chic, expensive cafés and boutique stores. It was the kind of street you walked down when you wanted to be seen. Every step came with a price tag, every coffee cup was a statement.
The taxi rolled to a gentle stop. Jessica paid the driver, adjusted her beige trench coat, and walked through the glass doors of the rooftop café they had reserved yesterday. Light music drifted softly through the space, mixing with the aroma of freshly ground beans.
1:45 PM.
He wasn't here yet.
Jessica chose a quiet seat near the window. From there, she could see the busy street below, cars weaving in and out like ants beneath her feet.
A sweet-looking waitress approached with a polite smile. "Miss, here's the coffee menu."
Jessica hesitated. Then she forced a polite smile. "No, thank you. Just warm water."
The waitress blinked, surprised, but nodded and retreated. Jessica's hand slipped protectively over her belly. No coffee, she reminded herself. Not anymore.
At precisely 2:00 PM, Spencer King entered the café.
Tall, composed, and charismatic without trying—he looked like he belonged here, like this expensive corner of the world was crafted around men like him. He spotted her instantly and walked over, his steps confident and fluid.
Jessica didn't stand to greet him. She sat straight, calm, poised—masking the whirlwind in her chest.
Spencer took the seat across from her, lounging against the back of the sofa with natural grace, as if this was his throne and she was merely summoned.
His narrowed eyes locked on her. His tone was deliberate, low, and clear.
"Miss Cooper, we need to talk about something."
Jessica's stomach twisted, not from nausea this time. She sat a little straighter, her fingers tightening around her glass of water.
"The test results?" she asked quietly.
"That day, you took the contraceptive pill," he said, watching her closely. "The report and photos were brought to me by my assistant. Now, given the current situation…" His tone turned colder. "How do you explain that, Miss Cooper?"
The air around them felt like glass—fragile and cold.
Jessica met his gaze head-on, her brown eyes clear and unflinching.
"That day, my father's friend had just returned from a trip to southern China," she began, her voice composed. "He brought back a lot of Pu-erh tea. When I got home, my Dad brewed several pots. I forgot that strong tea and medication don't mix, and I ended up drinking quite a bit. That likely canceled the effects of the contraceptive pill."
She paused, then added, her voice sharper this time, "Also, I don't appreciate President King's current tone—like I deliberately planned all this."
Spencer's gaze remained unreadable, his lips pressed into a firm line. His eyes were deep—like dark marble—and hard to read. But she could feel the calculation happening behind them.
She wasn't lying. He knew that. But her final sentence—it had touched a nerve.
"Oh? How is my attitude?" he asked, shifting slightly and relaxing back in his seat.
"We both made a terrible mistake," Jessica said, her voice low. "I was drunk. You weren't."
He tilted his head. "But I was tempted," Spencer said bluntly.
Jessica closed her eyes briefly and let out a breath. "President King, I was the one who walked into the wrong room. I made a mistake—but I was clearly intoxicated. You were sober. I am also a victim here. What right do you have to question me as though I orchestrated this?"
"Go on," Spencer replied, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. The steady rhythm only heightened the tension that pulsed between them.
Jessica inhaled, calming herself.
"The reason I agreed to this meeting," she said, "was to express something clearly to you. I want this child."
A sharp silence fell between them.
For a moment, Spencer stared at her as if she had just told him the sky had collapsed. Then, his lips curved upward—not in a smile, but a smirk.
"What right does Miss Cooper have to make decisions on her own?"
Jessica didn't blink. "Because he is growing inside me. I have the right to decide his fate."
Spencer's long legs crossed elegantly. He narrowed his eyes slightly, folding his arms.
"Miss Cooper is a victim—I won't deny that," he said. "And I won't deny my mistakes, either. But without my efforts, how could you have achieved what you have now? Since the mistake is mutual, it's only fair that I take responsibility."
He leaned forward then, voice colder now, every word like a blade.
"As for the child… I will terminate the pregnancy."
Jessica's breath hitched.
Even though she had expected it… hearing the words still cracked something inside her. Like a hairline fracture spreading wide.
But she refused to let the pain show.
She stood up, chin raised. "This is my decision. I will bear the consequences. I don't want your compensation, and I'm not here to trap you or blackmail you. I won't tell the child anything about you. Not a single word."
She paused. "If you're worried, we can sign a legal agreement. I'll put it all in writing."
Spencer's jaw tensed. His eyes darkened, unreadable.
Then, suddenly, he stood too.
He looked at her from above—tall, powerful, imposing.
"This doesn't change my decision," he said, his voice a deep, ominous promise. "Tomorrow afternoon, I'll take you to the hospital."
His words echoed across the table like thunder.
Jessica didn't reply. She couldn't. Her fingers trembled slightly by her side, but her spine remained straight, her chin high.
They stood like statues—two people staring across a battlefield, neither willing to blink first.