A/N: Hello everyone! This new update might surprise some of you who are probably expecting something later in the week. The story is really done so I'm posting the remaining chapters a little more closely together because the things are going to happen are pretty much leading up to the end and I didn't want to drag it out too much.

Thank you!

***

You would think that a woman with an incredible amount of money would have no issue buying gifts. But when her father-in-law was not only a ridiculously rich man as well who not only cared about her a great deal but also made the incredulous move to matchmake her with his son, it wasn’t going to be as easy as it would seem.

It was two days later and I still had nothing to give Martin for his birthday this weekend.

Since Brandon left early this morning for a business summit in Stockholm, not returning until the end of the week just in time for his father’s birthday, I was left to my own devices. I would’ve come with him if not for the upcoming birthday bash we were finalizing and the little side fact that I was still sheltering Riley and Danny in my old house until Layla could organize her official escape from Don’s clutches.

My first instinct was to turn to Anna and Tessa but the sisters still had classes so I called up Jake to meet up for lunch and hopefully a quick shopping trip downtown right after. He was the only other person close to Martin who could offer me some gift-giving advice.

The trouble was, he didn’t quite know what to get him either.

Martin had everything he could ever possibly need and want—well, except for his wife, Evelyn, to still be alive but even I didn’t have the powers of resurrection, as handy as that might be.

In the past few birthdays he’d had since I knew him, I’d given him a small cake I made when he stopped by Marlow’s. The only time I’d given him anything that had some kind of monetary value was when I gave him a small book of sketches by an artist in Paris who drew the faces of different diners he could see from the glass window of a cozy cafe as he sat outside on a bench every day. I’d given it to him the first time I saw him again at Marlow’s after my abrupt return from Paris. He had, after all, given me the means to escape my reality even for a little while and head out on my own to the city of lights where I had hoped to start anew.

And just when you were resigned to the fact that you could never escape your life, he’d introduced you to a completely different one by squaring you off with his son. If fairy godfathers existed, Martin would be yours.

And since fairy godparents usually did the wish-granting, buying them a gift was like solving one of the great mysteries of life.

“I’m telling you. There’s only one gift you can give him that would put all his other gifts to shame,” Jake said as we came out of a very high-end designer store. “Grandkids. Tell him you’ll give him either a Brandon junior or a little Charlotte and he’ll be over the moon.”

I looked at him in exasperation. “I’d like to think of my future children as more than just some gift merchandise I can pop out, tie with a pretty bow, and send with express delivery.”

Jake grinned. “You know they’ll be very cute.”

“Just as cute as yours and Tessa’s little minions would be,” I shot back, wiggling my brows at him meaningfully. “If you’re so adamant on giving Martin grandkids, why don’t you and Tessa get to it, huh?”

I probably shouldn’t have teased Jake about it, knowing his heart was still bleeding in some places, because the moment I mentioned Tessa and their future children, his face went from being incredulous to pained to downright crestfallen.

“While I haven’t looked that far into the future, I will agree that Tessa and I are going to have some pretty adorable babies,” he said right after a long sigh. “If only they wouldn’t inherit their mother’s obstinacy.”

I snorted. “News flash, Jake—she’s not the only one with that gene.”

We were chuckling as we headed for his car parked at the end of the block when my phone rang.

“Hello?” I asked, since the call display only showed the phone number but no name.

There was no answer at first—just a series of harsh, ragged breaths.

“Hello?” I prompted again, stopping mid-stride.

I had this ugly feeling it was someone I knew but I couldn’t put a finger on it.

Layla’s prepaid cellphone came up as Poppy Pett (because I liked the name even though she thought it was ridiculous) and the other number we provided Danny and Riley with showed as Rusty Ruiz (because I liked it too).

“Char?” a faint, trembling voice finally came through the line.

My body stiffened into alert mode as I replayed the sound of my name over and over again in my head until I could tag the voice.

Bessy.

“Charlotte, is everything okay?”Jake asked, drawing me back to reality, his face etched with concern.

I held up a finger to my lips to quiet him before I lowered my head to focus on the sounds from the other line.

“It’s me,” I said gently, not wanting to startle her. “What’s going on?”

She burst into small, suppressed gasps, as if she was having trouble breathing. “I’m at the... the c-clinic to... you know? I thought I could b-but... I... I c-can’t!”

It felt like a fist pounded straight into my chest as Bessy’s words sank in.

“Where are you?” I asked, gripping the phone so tight in my hands, I could feel the sweat squishing on my curled palm. “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“But I have to! I h-have to...” Bessy was full-blown sobbing on the other line now. “He told me I have to, Char... I h-have to...”

“You don’t have to do a damn thing, do you hear me?” I snapped, stepping out to the edge of the sidewalk and flailing my hand up in the air to get a taxi’s attention. “Stay put. Text me where you are. I’ll come get you and we’ll fix this, okay?”

“Charlotte, what the hell are you doing?” Jake demanded, gripping my shoulder and yanking me to face him. “Who’s on the phone? What’s going on?”

“I’ve got to go, okay?” I told him, cupping a hand over my phone. “I’ll call you later, Jake.”

A taxi pulled up in front of me and I scrambled into it. I tried to shut the door but Jake grabbed it and held it open.

“What’s the address?” I asked Bessy on the phone again as Jake and I played tug-of-war on the door while the hysterical woman on the other line just kept sobbing. “Focus! What’s the address?”

“For the love of God, Charlotte!” Jake hissed, glaring at me. “Wherever you’re going, I’m coming with you!”

I rattled off the address, growing desperate to reach Bessy without further delay. In her state of mind, God knows she might do something she would truly regret.

“Charlotte!” Jake barked to get my attention. “Something’s wrong and—Ow!”

I smacked his hand hard enough that he had to release his grip on the door, wincing when he shot me a scathing look.

“I’m so sorry, Jake!” I apologized haphazardly right before slamming the taxi door close. I turned to the taxi driver and pounded on the back of his seat urgently. “Let’s go!”

The clinic Bessy went to was fortunately within the outskirts of downtown so I was there in less than twenty minutes. Abortion was legal in the state but the place she chose didn’t look like the kind someone who could well afford the luxuries of first-class health care would pick.

As I hastily climbed out of the taxi, I glanced around the street that looked more like a back alley to me, and swallowed hard.

The building was short and a dull concrete-gray with a simple, faded white sign that said ‘Family Care’ in black letters. There were a few cars parked in front of the building and across the street, and the other store space next to the clinic was vacant, unsigned, and sporting boarded up windows and graffiti art.

It looked like the kind of place someone would go to if they wanted to stay well below the radar and where all transactions were done in cash and without any paper trail.

My blood boiled.

I was sure Don planned this little trip to the doctor for Bessy, not wanting to risk anyone recognizing the young socialite if she’d gone to more credible places than this dump.

Bessy, at least the girl I knew since high school, was certainly spoiled enough to ever consider this place.

I was still rooted to the spot, staring at the building and fidgeting with my purse, when I heard the loud screech of tires coming down the street.

I turned and spotted Jake’s car whipping into a parking spot in front of the clinic, barely a couple of feet away from me.

I inwardly cursed, grinding my teeth before taking a deep breath and facing the inevitable confrontation with Jake.

There was going to be one because he looked like he was going to skin me alive.

I sighed.

Of course, he’d followed me. I should’ve thought of that but I was too concerned about Bessy. And now I was risking her secret, and possibly her baby.

“What the hell are you doing here, Charlotte?” he bit off, grabbing my elbow and finally glancing around. “If you needed to go to the doctor, I would’ve taken you—somewhere a little less sketchy than here, for sure.”

“This is a different kind of doctor, Jake,” I muttered as I yanked my arm free from his grip and headed for the entrance with him dogging my steps. “You shouldn’t have followed me here.”

“I had to after you turned white while you were on that call,” he said gruffly, peering at the ratty posters and notices on the wall right next to the building entrance. “Brandon’s going to kill me if something happened to you and I did nothing.”

“You can see I’m in one piece so you don’t have to worry,” I told him plaintively, trying to get past him to get through the door. “You can go, Jake.”

When he wouldn’t move, I started tapping my foot loudly and impatiently.

Bessy needed me and Jake was literally in my way. “Jake, move your ass over!”

“Wait a sec,” he said, his voice odd. He slowly turned his head to me, his green eyes accusing. “What kind of health center is this?”

Abortion services, as far as I knew, were offered in many locations in the city, mostly in women health centers and such. This place, as questionable as it looked, seemed to only cater to specific ‘planned parenthood’ options. There were little posters on the wall with tips on how to prevent pregnancy, birth control options, etc.

It made no specific mention of abortion but it displayed enough material to give anyone an idea that it specialized in family planning.

“Charlotte,” Jake started in a low voice, swallowing with difficulty that I could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat. He was looking at me anxiously, a thin film of sweat shining on his forehead even in this cool day. “Why are you at this place?”

I let out a small but loud puff of breath and rolled my eyes. “I’m here for an abortion.”

His jaw dropped so fast and so hard, I could almost hear the sound of the bone popping out of place.

My words replayed in my head and I gasped out in horror when I realized just how my abrupt confession sounded.

My hand flew to my mouth for a mortified second before I grabbed Jake by the elbow, knowing that he was going to snap out of it in a moment and bring down the wrath of God upon my stupid head.

He let out a string of curses that made me shudder and nearly cross myself, his voice rising as the momentum of his outrage intensified.

“Jake! Jake!” I tugged on his shoulder, trying to shake him out of his rant but he kept going. “It’s not me! Hey, listen! Jake!”

Out of options and running out of time too, I stomped on his foot hard enough that he yelped and hopped away, scowling at me deeply.

“You can swat my hand and break my toes but there is no way I’m going to let you do what you think you’re doing, Char—”

“I said it’s not me, okay?”

I practically yelled that to his face so he didn’t miss it.

He blinked a few times and shook his head as if it would clear it.

“You’re not—so, why... Then who are you here for?” he demanded in exasperation, still very much in my way. Then his face paled, his eyes widening in horror.

“It’s not Tessa, is it?” he whispered scratchily, paling even further than I could imagine.

“No, it’s not!” I replied hastily, bolting to the side and around him, grabbing for the door but he successfully kept it firmly in place with one hand pressed against it. “Jake, please! I have to stop her, okay? She doesn’t want to do it but she’s so fried in the brain right now that I worry she’s going to just let it happen.”

His jaw clenched. “Who is it, Charlotte?”

I exhaled sharply and made a decision. Bessy was going to hate me for squealing but at least she’ll have her baby. Besides, she hated me already anyway.

“It’s Bessy, okay?” I said quietly, pleading at him with my eyes. “She’s pregnant and no one knows and she’s being pressured into this. But she doesn’t want to do it so I’m here to get her out as soon as humanly possible.”

“Let’s go.” Without another second of delay, the door swung open and Jake strode in.

There wasn’t a single person in the reception area except for the person at the front desk but I figured in a place like this, there was probably a secluded waiting room.

Who wanted to sit together for a couple of hours, leafing through magazines and discussing their no-baby plans for small talk?

I didn’t want to pass judgement—it was legal, after all—but I imagined it was still an awkward topic to bring up in a conversation.

I went up to the scowling woman at the front desk and asked for Bessy but she gave me a long-winded speech about patient privacy rights and such.

In short, she wasn’t going to tell us a damn thing about Bessy, let alone allow us to see her.

I rang Bessy’s phone again but she didn’t pick up.

Come on, Bess. Answer the damned phone so we can save you.

Pacing, I tried a couple more times before she finally answered.

My heart twisted when I heard her on the other line.

She was still sobbing on the phone but she was at least rambling out where she was in the building.

“She clearly doesn’t want to do this,” I told the woman, thrusting out my phone to her so she could hear Bessy wailing on the other line. “She’s very upset.”

“I know. We’ve been trying to get her to settle down in the last half hour,” the woman answered with an exasperated roll of her eyes.

“We’d really like to see Bessy Mitchell, please,” Jake said in a stern, serious voice as he levelled the receptionist the most intimidating stare I’d ever seen from him. “We’d hate to have to file a complaint about the treatment of patients and their trusted family and friends in this facility. I do own two of the top newspapers in this city, after all.”

Jake hardly ever called attention to his wealth and influence that I often forgot he was running a very successful publishing business. While I never thought of him capable of extreme vanity when it came to his social status, it was handy to see him turn up his level of self-importance at a time like this.

“And I happen to be a co-chairperson of the state’s most important charitable society—The Lady Championettes Society. You might have heard of them,” I added, tipping my nose so high in the air, it would’ve proved hazardous to a plane flying by.

While this wasn’t my usual strategy, questionable places such as a fly-by-night abortion center like this only cared about money, dirty or not, and staying under the radar so they could continue to run their operation without sticking to the strictly implemented regulations.

The woman scowled deeper as she contemplated our threat and I dramatically glanced at my watch. “I’m a very important person, you know, and you’re wasting my time.”

“And I’m the damned queen of England,” the woman muttered bitterly before pointing at the bay of empty chairs. “You two sit and I’ll go see about getting your friend who is not, for all intents and purposes, named Bessy Mitchell.”

She kept grumbling about people who couldn’t make up their damned minds and their stuffy friends before disappearing into a hall.

Jake and I glanced at each other before letting out matching sighs of relief.

“How did this happen?” he asked as he slowly walked to a chair and sank down on it.

I raised my brows uncertainly. “Uh, the usual way. Man and woman have sex, their reproductive cells meet and—”

“No. I mean, how did you end being Bessy’s extraction team for this?” Jake interjected with thinly-veiled impatience. “The last time I saw the two of you together, you were flaying each other with insults. What kind of miracle happened?”

“Nothing short of me just being there at the right place at the right time,” I answered wearily as I plopped down next to Jake. “It’s a long story and we’ll have to wait and see if Bessy’s in the mood to tell you. The reason she’s in this mess is because she hasn’t told anyone else—well, except for the asshole who got her into this situation in the first place.”

Just then, the receptionist came back and waved us over.

“The private exit’s in the back so you’re going to have to pick her up there—and I don’t care who the hell you are, so don’t even start—but it’s the clinic policy that no one exits from the procedure through the front door so in the back you go,” the woman said sulkily.

“I’ll go get the car,” Jake said, fishing out his keys.

The woman held up a hand. “First, we’ll need to settle some paperwork because this procedure was already paid for and it wasn’t done, not because of any issues on our end. If the patient demands for a refund, we’ll need to loop in the person who’d forwarded the payment to us but if you’d just like to call it quits, we’ll need to have the release papers signed by another witness attesting that it was not our—”

“I’ll take care of it,” I interjected, nodding to Jake. “Go get Bessy and pick me up by the front door.”

The paperwork took less than ten minutes. It was just pretty much to say that the clinic had done their due diligence in ensuring that the procedure happened but that it was the patient’s decision not to go ahead. They clearly wanted to hang on to the payment and wanted some kind of proof in case Don (I had absolutely no doubt about this) came after them for a refund.

I was so glad to be out of there.

When I came out of the building, Jake was already waiting in the car with a silently crying Bessy curled up on her side in the backseat.

“Where are we going?” Jake asked as soon as we hit a main road. “Are we taking her home?”

“No, no!” Bessy cried out from the backseat. “Don will kill me as soon as he finds out I didn’t go through with it. And I c-can’t go to my parents like this...”

“Don?” Jake asked, giving me a confused sidelong glance. “Don, who?”

I glanced at Bessy who’d turned her face down on the seat, soaking the luxurious suede with her tears, and turned back to Jake with an arched brow.

“How many Dons do you know in your circle?” I asked him quietly.

He frowned, his forehead wrinkling in thought for a moment, before the truth hit him.

His eyes wide with shock, he glanced at me and soundlessly mouthed at me, “Don LeClaire?”