Chapter 7
n that moment, I finally understood–buried under all the hatred and revenge, some stupid part of me still loved this asshole.
knew Harrison Whitmore fifteen years before our families ever arranged our marriage.
was ten when my parents brought me to New York on a business trip. Got snatched by human traffickers right at JFK.
hoved into this disgusting van with a bunch of other terrified kids, all of us crying and screaming.
was huddled in the corner, scared shitless, convinced I’d never see home again.
‘hen suddenly the van got pulled over and the door flew open.
unlight blinded me, but I heard this teenage voice, panicked but pissed off: “What the fuck are you doing?!”
hat was Harrison.
He was only fifteen, this lanky teenager going toe–to–toe with three grown–ass men. His face was bleeding from where they’d
ut him, but he wouldn’t back down.
When the cops finally showed up, he ran straight to me and wrapped his jacket around my shoulders, his voice still shaking:
Hey, you’re safe now. I’m gonna get you home.”
kept that blood–stained jacket for years.
‘rom that day on, Harrison Whitmore was burned into my heart.
Back in D.C., I pestered every family friend who traveled to New York, desperate for any information about him. Every detail
vent straight into my diary.
He liked blue. Hated onion. Always wiped sweat with his left hand during basketball…
*ifteen years of collecting these tiny details, filling up five thick journals.
When I turned twenty–five and my parents mentioned an arranged marriage, I was ready to go nuclear.
Then I saw “Harrison Whitmore” on their shortlist. I practically signed in blood on the spot.
thought God had finally answered my prayers.
wrapped those five journals in tissue paper and hid them in my suitcase, planning to show them to him once we got close. I’d ell him I’d been waiting all this time.
But when we met again, he looked at me with polite indifference–like I was a complete stranger.
The little girl he’d saved didn’t exist in his memory anymore.
After Harrison spent a month in the jail, Margot finally showed up with paperwork.
“Vivian, he’s family despite being a complete moron. We can’t leave him in there forever.”
19:05
Chapter 7
“This is a 5% stake in Whitmore Industries, and here’s the divorce papers. You sign, I get him released immediately.”
Her eyes dropped to my stomach, voice turning serious. “But the baby stays. That’s Whitmore blood, and you’re not getting rid
of it.”
I didn’t hesitate for a second. Signed my name with a flourish.
“Don’t worry about the baby. I won’t touch it.”
What was I gonna abort? My stomach was already empty.
The Whitmores worked fast. Harrison was out within twelve hours.
He stormed into the Whitmore mansion, jabbing his finger at me.
“Vivian, whatever’s in your belly isn’t mine! Don’t think you can con my family with some random bastard!”
CRACK!
Maxwell’s palm connected with his cheek hard.
“Shut your goddamn mouth!”
“I already checked with the hospital–the timing matches perfectly with your D.C. trip! You’re so pussy–whipped by that little slut, you won’t even claim your own kid?”
Harrison held his cheek, looking genuinely shocked.
He had no idea I’d already bought off half the medical staff.
They’d say whatever I wanted them to say.
19:05
