Chapter 6
6
~Dylan's POV
I couldn't focus. Not one bit. My hands hovered over the papers on my desk, but my mind wasn't in the meeting, wasn't on the contracts, wasn't anywhere except back at home, wondering if Velma had eaten, if she had slept at all, if she was still crying. I hated myself for letting things get this far, but at the same time, I knew I had no choice. I couldn't let the mother of my child get dragged to the station over something, and the collaborations with Eva's company must go through without any hiccups.
"I'm such a selfish dick!"
I rubbed my face, leaning back in my chair. "God, Velma... what am I supposed to do?" I muttered, my voice barely audible, but I couldn't help it.
A secretary knocked and held out a coffee. "Sir, your meeting with the collaborators is in ten."
I nodded, trying to pull myself together. "Yeah, thanks," I muttered, but even as I walked toward the conference room, my thoughts kept drifting back. I couldn't stop thinking about her, about the hurt in her eyes last night, about the fear, the tears.
I couldn't even step through the door without my chest tightening, a cold weight pressing down on me. I had thought a small gift, something simple, would soften things, even just a little, and maybe remind Velma that I hadn't completely lost my mind. But the moment I stepped into the living room, the air hit me like a brick wall.
They were there. Eva, standing in her perfect posture, with that smug, calculated smile she always wore, and my mother, eyes narrow and sharp, like I had already committed some unforgivable crime. My gift felt absurd in my hand.
"What... what are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm, though irritation and disbelief were burning my throat.
Eva's eyes flicked to the gift. Her smile curved wider, slow and deliberate, like she was savoring every second of my panic. She reached forward, took it from me without a word, and examined it, or pretended to, before casually handing me a brown file.
I frowned, lifting it with a hesitant hand. "What... what's this?"
She didn't answer immediately. She tilted her head, that same wicked curve to her lips. "Open it," she said softly. "You'll want to see this."
My stomach dropped as I unfolded the papers. Divorce papers. Signed. Velma's signature, bold and real, stared back at me like a cruel joke.
"No... no, no, no," I stammered, voice rising. "Who... who sent her? Where is she? Where's Velma?"
No one answered. Panic began to coil in my chest. I ran toward our bedroom, mind screaming with possibilities, with horrors. The door swung open under my hand. Empty. Silent. The bed untouched, the sheets smooth and cold. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, each beat a reminder of the distance growing between us.
"What the hell is happening?!" I shouted, voice cracking. I spun, looking back toward the living room, my fists clenching, my mind searching for some thread of reason in the chaos.
My mother's voice finally cut through, soft but sharp, slicing through the confusion like a knife. "Oh, Dylan... I was so happy when I heard that Eva is carrying your child."
I froze. "What? You said that to my wife?" My voice cracked, panic crawling up my chest like fire. I turned sharply to Eva, my eyes wide, my heart hammering in my ribs.
Eva's smile was cruel, sharp, and so unnerving. "I did," she said slowly, deliberately. "I also... fast-tracked the divorce. All according to your plan... kind of."
I felt my knees weaken. "I... I begged you not to say anything! I was going to tell her myself! How could you? How could you...." My voice broke mid-sentence. I sank heavily into a chair, gripping the papers as though holding them would pull her back to me, would undo everything that had gone wrong. But of course, it didn't.
"Dylan," my mother said sharply, her tone cutting through my panic. "Watch your words. That is a pregnant woman. That is your wife."
I looked at her, confused, disbelief mixing with anger. "What? Who is my wife? Stop that. Velma is my only wife!"
"She is pregnant, Dylan," my mother said, her voice softer now but firm. "It is for the best. You must marry Eva as soon as possible."
"No!" The word tore from my chest. "This isn't a joke. I am not in the mood for your games." My voice echoed through the room, rough, desperate, raw. I grabbed my phone and started dialing Velma. Again. And again. Every time, the line wouldn't go through. My stomach twisted. My heart slammed against my ribs. "Where is she?" I whispered to myself, my fingers shaking as they pressed the screen.
I couldn't stay there. I jumped into my car, my mind racing, my chest tight. I drove straight to her adoptive parents' house, praying, hoping that they would understand, that they would help me find her, explain where she had gone, and tell me she was safe.
But when I got there, hope died fast. Their faces weren't concerned, they were smug. Almost mocking.
Their eyes held no warmth, no compassion, only a cold satisfaction I couldn't understand. "Ah, Dylan," one of them said, smiling as though they'd been waiting just for me. "You've come to ask about Velma, I suppose?"
"Yes!" I yelled, my voice sharp, desperate. "Where is she? Is she okay??"
They laughed softly, too calm, too amused, and it made my chest tighten even more. "See? Velma... she's gone where she needs to go. And you..." they leaned forward slightly, eyes glittering with something I couldn't name. "You need to accept things. Forget her, Dylan. Forget the past. Maybe it's time you start thinking about Eva."
"When are you coming for Eva's hand in marriage?" one of them asked. "Forget about Velma. She's not your concern anymore."
"Maybe she was never really yours to begin with."
My blood boiled, and I left without saying anything to them. I slammed my fist on the car steering wheel and left, driving away so fast I barely noticed the streets passing. My mind raced, heart pounding.
I pulled into a quiet spot, took a deep breath, and started pressing buttons on my phone I knew could track people, any people, anyone who could tell me where she was. I needed to find her. I needed to fix this.
I muttered to myself, "Where are you, Velma? Where did you go?" My voice was almost a growl. "I'm so sorry. I can't..."
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