Chapter 3 - THE UNINVITED GUEST
The morning sun filtered through the large industrial windows of the Little Harvest Kitchen prep facility. The smell of roasted sweet potatoes, cinnamon, and fresh-baked whole-grain bread usually brought me immense peace. Today, however, my stomach was tied in knots. I was moving on autopilot, chopping vegetables with a manic speed that had my sous-chef, Maria, casting worried glances in my direction.
"Hannah, mija, you're going to lose a finger if you keep chopping like the carrots owe you money," Maria said, placing a gentle hand on my wrist. "What happened last night? The meeting with the school board went well?"
"The meeting never happened," I muttered, setting the knife down and wiping my hands on my apron. "I ran into my ex-husband."
Maria's eyes widened. She was one of the few people who knew the broad strokes of my past, though I had spared her the darkest details. Before she could ask another question, the heavy metal door at the front of the facility chimed, signaling a visitor.
I looked up, expecting to see a delivery driver. Instead, my breath hitched in my throat.
Sebastian stood in the doorway. He looked entirely out of place in my bustling, flour-dusted kitchen. He wore a charcoal, custom-tailored suit that probably cost more than my delivery van. His jaw was tight, his dark eyes scanning the room until they locked onto me. The air in the kitchen seemed to evaporate.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice carrying over the hum of the industrial refrigerators.
"I'm working," I replied flatly, refusing to shrink under his intense gaze. "This is a private commercial kitchen. You need to leave."
He didn't move. Instead, he stepped further inside, ignoring the bewildered stares of my staff. "I spent the entire night going out of my mind, Hannah. I hired a private investigator at 2:00 AM. Do you know what he told me? He told me you have three five-year-old children born exactly seven months after you disappeared from my life. Seven months. You were pregnant when you left."
"I didn't leave," I shot back, my voice rising as I marched toward him, stopping just a few feet away. "I was pushed out. Thrown away. There is a massive difference, Sebastian."
His expression faltered, confusion flashing across his handsome features. "Pushed out? What are you talking about? You packed your bags while I was in London on a business trip! You left a note saying you couldn't handle the pressure of our marriage anymore!"
"I never wrote a note!" I yelled, no longer caring who was listening. "I was in the hospital! I almost died giving birth to them, Sebastian! I called you eleven times! I sent emails! I begged for you!"
Sebastian stared at me, all the color draining from his face. "Hospital...? No. No, my mother said... she said you had a miscarriage. That the grief was too much, and you wanted a clean break. She showed me the medical reports, Hannah."
"They were forged," I said, my voice dropping to a harsh, cold whisper. "Your mother brought a lawyer to my bedside before the epidural had even worn off. She locked me out of our home. And your lovely fiancée, Olivia? She was the one who made sure my calls never reached you."
"That's a lie," he whispered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his crumbling certainty. "Olivia wouldn't... my mother wouldn't do that."
"Believe whatever helps you sleep in your penthouse, Sebastian," I sneered, turning my back on him. "But don't come into my place of business and demand answers when you were too blind to see the truth five years ago. Now get out."
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He stood there for a long moment, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire. Finally, he spoke, his voice completely hollowed out. "I want a paternity test. If they are mine... I will tear the world apart to make this right. But I need to know."
I turned slowly to face him. "Fine. You want a test? We'll do it. But we do it on my terms, at my clinic. And until the results come back, you stay away from them."
