Chapter 1: The Goodbye That Wasn't

I gave birth to a child for Nathan Brooks, the most feared venture capitalist in D.C.—the kind of guy who could tank a stock with a single phone call.

Everyone expected I'd use the baby to trap him. That I'd storm his office, parade the child at some charity gala, or leak the story to the press. That’s the playbook for desperate women in this city, right?

But on the tenth day after giving birth, I left Washington D.C. alone. Just me, a single suitcase, and a one-way Amtrak ticket. The train station smelled like burnt coffee and old newspapers. Nobody noticed me leaving.

Nathan Brooks came running after me, the baby in his arms, eyes red and wild. He’d actually run through Union Station—Nathan Brooks, who never ran for anyone, who had drivers and private jets for every occasion.

Marble floors, the echo of train announcements, the smell of Auntie Anne’s pretzels mixing with perfume and sweat. He found me in the crowd.

"Rachel, you don’t want me, fine—but you’re just gonna walk away from your own kid too?" His voice cracked, and it cut deeper than I expected.

I couldn’t stop a tear from slipping down my cheek, but I didn’t turn around. My hand clamped so tight on my suitcase handle my knuckles ached.

I stared at the vast, open sky beyond the tracks and forced the words out, each one scraping my throat raw. Every word felt like a stone I had to swallow:

"Yes, I don't want you or the child anymore."

My chest twisted up—guilt, longing, everything I’d spent months trying to kill.