She looked at me with the saddest eyes I’d ever seen. I swallowed.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s true.”
“That’s because Oliver can’t possibly love you like I do. He can’t make you happy. I can.”
I grabbed her hands and squeezed them.
“I’m not sure I trust you either,” she whispered. She was talking as if I wasn’t in the room. “And, besides, I’m pregnant. Oliver is the father.”
I saw red. Every muscle in my body tensed up and I squeezed my fists together to keep myself from jumping off the bed.
“What does that mean?” I asked. I was trying to keep the fury out of my voice, but, judging by Becka’s reaction to me, I wasn’t doing a good job. She stood up and backed a few steps away from me.
“I don’t know what it means,” she said. “You sound so angry. I’m sorry.”
“Are you going to keep it?” I asked. The idea of Oliver getting everything, Becka, a child, getting out of Neurotova completely unscathed… I felt my peripheral vision shrinking down as all I could see was an image of Oliver in front of me.
“I already love my baby,” the image said.
I pulled my fist back, which had been tightening with anger the entire time, and I punched Oliver in the face. The image fell to the floor, knocked out cold.
Oliver
When I woke up and Becka was gone, I panicked. I went to the bedroom and, when she wasn’t there, I went downstairs to the entry to see if her purse and phone were there. When they weren’t, I went to the garage.
Raymond was there, working on the car.
“Where is she?” I asked. I wasn’t angry at Raymond; I had given him permission to take Becka anywhere she wanted to go at any time.
“I took her first to her apartment, Sir,” he said. “Her apartment was swarming with media, so I took her to a hotel near there, the Holiday Inn.” He was already wiping his hands. “I’ll take you there now.”
“I’ll go get my phone and wallet,” I said, and I ran into the house. When I got my phone, my message light was blinking. I smiled, assuming it was from Becka. When I slid my phone to unlock, though, it was from a number I didn’t recognize.
Oliver, this is Lisa. Meet Becka and me at the Holiday Inn by our house. Room 342. Becka needs you.
“Raymond!” I yelled. “Call the police—tell them to meet us at the Holiday Inn, room 342. Becka is in trouble.”
I don’t know exactly how I knew that Becka was in trouble, but I did. I jumped in the car with Raymond and we sped to town. The entire way I imagined the worst, and the drive seemed to take forever. When we arrived, I ran past the front desk and, without waiting for the elevator, bounded up the stairs to room 342. I knocked on the door, and, when I didn’t hear anything, I kicked the door open.
It took me a moment to completely take in the entire scene before me. I saw Ethan first, and I almost didn’t recognize him for a moment. Lisa wasn’t anywhere in sight. Becka was… I scanned the room, then my heart jumped into my throat as I saw a crumpled up figure on the floor.
“Becka!” I rushed over to her. She was unconscious, but still breathing. I looked at Ethan, who was standing still, staring down at us. “What the fuck did you do, you lunatic?” I jumped up and attacked Ethan, my fists connecting with his face, his jaw, his chest. He didn’t fight back right away, but, when my fist met his jaw for the second time, he snapped out of whatever trance he was in, and he began to punch me back.
“I’ll kill you!” he shouted. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Not if I kill you first,” I screamed back. “You’ve messed with my life for the last time. This ends here, Ethan, one way or another.”
Ethan grabbed my shoulders and we began to wrestle around the room. He shoved me into the television, which, rather than falling, pushed me into Ethan because it was bolted to the table. I used the momentum to try to head-butt Ethan, but he dodged me.
“Nice try, sissy,” he said.
Rage filled me, blinded me, and I pushed him as hard as I could. He fell to the floor and I dropped down on top of him, punching him in the face again. I heard the sound of his nose break beneath my fist, and I smiled. That distraction cost me, though; he sat up and flipped me over, pinning me underneath him. He reached his fist back to punch me, but, before he could, I heard loud footsteps in the hallway.
“Break it up!” a cop yelled as he ran into the room. He pulled Ethan off of me and kept us apart with one swift motion, sending Ethan onto the bed and me against the wall. “Get your hands up, both of you!” His gun was drawn and he was angling it at both of us.
“Officer,” I said, “you need to arrest this animal; he tried to kill my girlfriend!”
Another officer had run in and was tending to Becka, who was still lying on the floor, not moving. I heard the cop radio to call an ambulance.
“Everyone calm down,” the officer said. “You, shut up.” That was to me. To Ethan, he said, “Put your hands behind your back; you’re under arrest for assault, at least, and whatever else we can find went wrong in this room.”
“I need to go with you to the hospital,” I said to the female officer.
“We’ll decide that when the ambulance gets here,” she said.
Raymond came into the room with a third officer and Lisa. Lisa looked terrified, and there was blood on her cheek.
“James,” the new officer said to the one handcuffing Ethan, “we found this woman tied up in the back of an Escalade registered to Ethan Hernandez. That’s him.” The officer pointed to Ethan.
“Great, buddy, we’ll go ahead and add a second assault charge and a kidnapping charge to your Christmas list tonight. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you…”
While the officer read Ethan his rights, the paramedics arrived and I convinced the other officers to allow me to travel to the hospital with Becka. The officers agreed, as long as I agreed to go in handcuffs. “Whatever,” I said. “Whatever gets me there with her.”
Raymond drove Lisa, who also needed to get checked out. The entire way in the ambulance, I held Becka’s hand with my cuffed hands, and I talked to her, even though she was unconscious. I asked the paramedics tons of questions, but each question was met with the same answer: they wouldn’t know anything until she was fully examined, and a doctor would talk to me when we got to the hospital.
When the ambulance arrived, they sent me to the waiting room while they took Becka to be examined. I paced the room, waiting impatiently. Raymond walked into the room.
“How is Lisa?” I asked.
“They won’t tell me anything because I’m not family,” he said in his eternally calm voice. “But, she’s awake and talking, and the cut on her face seemed pretty superficial, so my guess is she’s okay. Physically, that is. She has to be completely traumatized by what happened.”
“What did happen?” I asked.
“Apparently Ethan was at Becka’s apartment when Becka called Lisa. He flirted with Lisa to get Becka’s location, then basically forced Lisa to take him to the hotel. When she refused, he tied her up and went anyway. Becka opened the door because she was expecting Lisa, most likely, not that rat Ethan. After that, I don’t know; Lisa was tied up in the car for at least two hours, she said.”
I shook my head. “He’s gone too far this time.”
“You got some good hits in, Sir,” Raymond said. “They brought Ethan here before bringing him to jail so he could get stitched up.” His lips twitched in the makings of a smile. I smiled too, in spite of the situation.
“Good,” I said. “He deserved every one.”
The doctor walked in. “Which of you gentlemen is Oliver Weeks?”
“That’s me,” I said, standing up and walking over to the doctor. He was in a lab coat and his name tag said Dr. Nguyen.
“I’ve been examining Becka, and she’s going to be just fine.” He smiled as I sighed with relief. “She took a pretty hard hit, and it’s never good
when someone is unconscious for that long, so we’re going to keep her overnight for observation. But, she’s going to be just fine, and the baby is going to be fine too.”
“Baby!” I exclaimed. “What baby?”
The doctor shifted. “Becka is pregnant, Sir. Approximately nine weeks. It’s possible that she doesn’t yet know that she’s pregnant. Unlikely, but possible.”
I looked at Raymond, whose eyes shifted modestly to the floor.
“I need to see her right now. Is she awake?” I demanded.
“Sir, she’s awake, but she’s been through a lot. I would suggest that, if you do want to see her, you calm yourself down. Any further stress could cause damage to both Becka and the baby.”
I took a deep breath and sat back on the couch. The doctor excused himself and left the room. I looked over at Raymond.
“What fucking baby?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Sir,” Raymond said. “But, I do know that Becka is a good woman, and she’s been through a lot of hell lately.” He was polite about his opinion, and even I had to admit he was absolutely right. I thought about how I had contributed to creating a world for Becka in which she couldn’t even go to her apartment when she wanted to, for fear of being bothered by press. Her dissertation had been put on hold. She had been endlessly patient with me, I knew that. But, the thought of a baby, and that she knew about it and hadn’t told me?
“Why didn’t she tell me about the baby,” I asked. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m sure she had a good reason, Sir,” Raymond said.
The thought that was plaguing me became too big to keep in my head, and the words fell out of my mouth in a tumble. “What if the baby is Ethan’s?” I said. “What if it’s not even mine?”
Becka
I woke up in a hospital bed. Before I opened my eyes, I heard the sounds of a machine marking my heart beat rhythm, and confusion immediately filled my mind. My face hurt. I opened my eyes.
I saw Oliver sitting next to my bed, watching me. Concern was written all over his face, and, when he saw my eyes open, he smiled in obvious relief.
“My God,” he said. “I was so worried.”
“Oliver? What happened?” I barely recognized my own voice.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” His voice was hoarse and he looked to me as if he’d aged twenty years since I’d last seen him.
My eyes welled up with tears. “I don’t know,” I said. “I thought that you wouldn’t want the baby. That you wouldn’t want me. I had no idea until tonight, I swear; I wasn’t keeping it from you.” I reached down and touched my stomach. “Is the baby okay?” Suddenly anxiety pushed through me so hard I thought I would throw up. I didn’t know what had happened; the only thing I remembered was going to the hotel. Had there been an accident? If anything had happened to the baby…
“The baby is fine, and so are you.” Oliver stood up and moved to the bed. He sat on the side of the bed and grabbed my hand. I felt the sensation of cold metal and I looked down.
“Why are you in handcuffs?” I exclaimed. “Oliver, what the hell happened tonight?”
“Ethan happened,” Oliver said grimly. “What do you remember about tonight?”
I thought back. “I remember taking the test. I was in the bathroom. You asked me if I wanted a drink, and I panicked because I knew I couldn’t drink. I told you I wanted a martini, because I knew that would be a normal thing.” I looked away from Oliver’s eyes. The more I said, the sadder he looked. “Then… I don’t remember anything else. How did I get here?”
Oliver explained that I had asked Raymond to drive me home first, then to a hotel because of the press outside the building. I had called Lisa, but Ethan had somehow intercepted Lisa and he’d arrived at the hotel instead of her, pushing his way in. When I’d told him I was pregnant, he snapped, and he punched me.
“Ethan hit me?” I gasped.
“He hit you,” Oliver said. “So, when I arrived, he was there, and you were unconscious on the floor.” He closed his eyes, and, when he opened them, they were glistening. “I never, ever want to see that image again. You were crumpled on the floor, looking so vulnerable and…” he winced and shook his head. “I lost complete control. Ethan and I got into a fight, and that’s when the police arrived.”
“The police?” I had no memory of any of this happening; it seemed completely surreal.
“The paramedics took you to the hospital and they arrested both Ethan and me, though I’m sure the charges against me will be dropped. Raymond is at the police station now on my behalf.”
“What did they arrest Ethan for?” I asked slowly.
“Three counts of assault—for you, me, and for Lisa. And for kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping?” This kept getting worse. I tried to imagine Ethan, but, when I brought his face into my mind, all I could see was Oliver in front of me.
“He kidnapped Lisa,” Oliver said gently. “She’s okay, I promise,” he said quickly when I tried to sit up. “Be still. He tied her up in the back of his car because she wouldn’t take him to you. He tricked her.”
“Oh my god,” I moaned, closing my eyes. “Poor Lisa.”
“She’s okay, and, thanks to quick medical attention, so are you. And so is our baby.” He squeezed my hands and leaned over, kissing me.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“Well, the plan I was waiting to tell you about has been set into motion. Would you like to see it?” His eyes took on a glint of satisfaction, of pride.
“Um, hell yes,” I said. “And it’s about fucking time.” I was as mad as my voice let on, but I didn’t have the energy to create yet another argument over it. From the sounds of it, there had already been enough fighting for one night.
Oliver reached for the remote with his poor, handcuffed hands, and he turned on the tv. On the news, the newscaster was saying that their station had received a video statement from Billionaire Oliver Weeks, and they would be playing it in its entirety now.
I looked over at Oliver, but he just smiled at me. The video switched over to a picture of Oliver, sitting at his desk in his home office. He looked at the camera, a grim smile on his face.
“Thank you for your attention to the statement I’m about to give,” he said in a quiet, but confident voice. “I know that there’s been a lot of attention and questions around my life lately, and around the future and the past of my company, Neurotova. I’m here to officially set the record straight and answer all of the questions that have surfaced.”
I squeezed Oliver’s hand.
“An accusation has come up that Neurotova has participated in animal experimentation as a part of our food science research. That accusation is true. The experimentation, which includes countless examples of shameful animal cruelty, was done by my brother, Ethan Weeks, who goes by the name Ethan Hernandez. Mr. Hernandez, with reckless disregard to the company, to animals, and to the public’s belief in the good work that we do, continuously lied and performed dangerous acts to animals in the name of capital.
“I am here today to tell you that I knowingly paid Mr. Hernandez to keep quiet about what had gone on. I am ashamed about my role in this activity; I now know that I should have gone to the police immediately and confessed both Mr. Hernandez’s wrongdoing and my own. Instead, I thought I was doing the right thing by covering it up. I thought it would go away. I was wrong.
“It was my beautiful girlfriend, Becka Jasper, who found out the truth and who convinced me that I could remain silent no longer, though she doesn’t know I’m coming out with this information tonight… yet. My love for her is stronger than any I have ever known, and I am willing to risk my company, my reputation, and my wealth all for the ability to know that I am being completely truthful with her, and with you, the public.
“And, because I know that I need to atone for my part in this cover up, I have already made a deal with an interested international investor, who has agreed to pay top dollar for the incredi
bly valuable Neurotova company. Rather than reinvest the money, I will be donating ninety percent of the sale of the company to Animals Now!, an animal right’s organization that protects animals from exactly the type of threat I used to condone with my actions. This amount will be in the billions, though the exact amount is yet to be determined. In addition, I will be volunteering my time with Animals Now at least once a month, because, the one thing Becka has taught me over all others is that money does not take the place of human contact.”
“Tomorrow, I will be holding a public press conference to which any and all media are invited to participate. I will answer your questions truthfully and directly. I want to take this opportunity to apologize to Becka Jasper, to the employees of Neurotova, and to you, the public, for my shameful part in this charade. It stops today. Thank you.”
The video stopped and the screen returned to the newscaster. “Well,” she said. “That was quite an announcement from billionaire and CEO of Neurotova, Oliver Weeks…”
Oliver turned the tv off and looked at me. I was speechless.
“You… you’re selling Neurotova?” I asked, my voice as small as I’d ever heard it.
“It’s already sold,” Oliver said proudly. “The deal has been in the works for weeks, but I didn’t want to tell you about it until I had both sealed the sale and decided which charity should receive the money.”
“How did you decide on Animals Now!?” I asked. Animals Now! was my favorite animal charity; I had been volunteering with them for years, but there was no way for Oliver to know that; I hadn’t told him.
He blushed. “When I was at your apartment, the day you accused me of stealing your research, I saw a postcard from them with your next volunteer date. I thought that if you volunteered for them, you must believe strongly in their work.”
“I love you,” I said. I was trying to keep from crying, but it was difficult. The only thing holding me together was how completely overwhelmed I was.
“I love you, too,” he whispered, and he leaned in to kiss me.
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