"I came to apologize."
The second I walked in, I gave Tiffany's husband a deep bow and launched into my story. "Tiffany did spend the night outside the building. We got into a fight—I got her drunk and left her out in the cold."
I told him we'd gone to a bar where some guy only had eyes for Tiffany. He got handsy, left bruises on her. I stepped in before it went too far, but honestly? I was pissed. Why was he all over her when I was right there?
So yeah, in my anger, I poured drinks down her throat till she couldn't stand, then ditched her outside. She blacked out—didn't remember me bringing her home. Thought we'd partied till morning.
Tiffany's husband knew me. He didn't look totally convinced, but he stayed polite as he walked me to the door. I figured that was the end of it.
Then, a month later, Tiffany called. "I'm pregnant."
"Who's the dad? Ryan's? Or your husband's?"
"My husband hasn't touched me since that night. It has to be Ryan's."
"Not even once?"
"We did it before the birthday party, but I'd know by now if it was his. It's Ryan's."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing hard. "You cheated—and didn't use protection?"
Her voice cracked. "It was my first time, okay? I flirt, but I don't actually sleep around! How was I supposed to know this would happen?"
I let out a sharp breath. "I can't help you with this."
Just as I was about to hang up, she pleaded, "Then come with me to get an abortion. Please. I can't go alone."
I agreed. The sooner, the better.
Tiffany's husband was a big-shot CEO—bald, well-connected, the kind of guy whose influence reached everywhere. Even the hospital. A female doctor spotted Tiffany near the abortion wing.
"Ms. Evans? That area is for procedures. Are you lost?"
Tiffany froze. I jumped in. "Yeah, we took a wrong turn—"
But she cut me off. "No, I'm here with my friend. I know someone here, so it's easier."
The doctor nodded and walked away, though I caught her glancing back more than once.
I grabbed Tiffany's arm. "What was that?"
She squeezed my hand, her voice a nervous whisper. "If someone recognizes me, what am I supposed to say? Telling them I'm here for a checkup makes it sound like I have an STD or something."
I shook my head. "You're being paranoid. Reckless when it counts, but full of excuses now."
She rolled her eyes. "You have no idea how far his reach is."
I shot back, "And yet you cheated right under his nose."
The procedure itself was quick, but Tiffany needed four days to recover without drawing suspicion.
She pulled me even deeper into the lie. "I'll tell him you're the one getting the abortion. I'm just here to support you."
I agreed—on one condition: she paid me for my time.
Everything seemed under control until the second day of her so-called recovery. That's when her husband barged into the VIP ward, a doctor trailing nervously behind him.