My stomach dropped.
I followed him onto the porch.
And froze.
Standing at the edge of our driveway was the pregnant girl.
But she wasn’t alone.
Beside her stood a tall, sharply dressed man with silver at his temples and a face I recognized instantly.
My husband’s boss.
I had met him once at a corporate holiday gala—the only company event my husband had ever reluctantly brought me to. I remembered how intimidated everyone seemed around him.
Now he was standing in front of our house.
The girl avoided my husband’s gaze. But when her eyes met mine, there was something different in them—strength.
The man stepped forward.
“Good afternoon,” he said evenly. “I believe you met my stepdaughter.”
My husband swallowed.
