She’d told him to turn the professor over to the university. Then he admitted that he’d hacked the computer to play a prank on the guy because he was a jerk and that’s when he found the videos.
“They won’t care about that—if he has child pornography, you might get a slap on the wrist.”
“I think they’ll bury it. Remember the fraternity that was accused of feeding girls mickeys at that blowout party last spring? Slap on the wrist because no one could prove who was behind it. Big institutions want to make problems disappear. Then there’s the fact that he’s a tenured professor.”
“Sean—what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’m going to expose him, one way or the other.”
What would she have done if Sean hadn’t been expelled? If she didn’t have an excuse to keep her pregnancy secret? Would she have stood up to her father and told Sean about the baby? Would she have expected a wedding? A commitment? He hadn’t loved her. Not then. Maybe he could have learned to …
She could lie to herself all she wanted, but he didn’t love her like she loved him, and she didn’t want to be the burden. The girl who had to get married. The girl who roped a guy into a family. They had fun, and that’s all it was. He was smart and exciting, he treated her very well, he was considerate … but he didn’t love her.
As it was, she’d left school after the semester ended, before she started to show, and transferred to UCLA. Because even though Sean went to Stanford for only a year, he had made a lot of friends. She didn’t keep in touch with any of them. She rebuilt her life in LA.
She’d gone through a litany of emotions from grief to embarrassment to anger to sorrow. She considered an abortion—had even made an appointment—but in the end, she couldn’t keep it. This baby was part of her, and deep down she knew that no matter what her father thought of Sean Rogan, he had good genes. He was attractive and smart. He was a genius. If she’d gone to a sperm bank and checked the boxes of what she wanted in a donor, Sean Rogan would have been at the top of the list.
Carson Spade was the opposite of Sean in so many ways, though just as handsome and just as endearing. But Carson wasn’t wild. He was five years older than her, stalwart, a businessman who cared about image and status. She wanted to tell herself she didn’t care about those things, but that would be a lie. She did because her father expected it. He wanted the whole package, not just money, but stature, respect, respectability. Carson Spade was everything her father wanted in a son-in-law, so when they started dating a year after Jesse was born, he’d gone from boyfriend to fiancé in a matter of months. He loved Jesse as if he were his own son. And that was one of the reasons Madison loved Carson. He loved Jesse unconditionally. He didn’t care who his father was, and didn’t hold it against her for keeping the information from Sean.
It wasn’t until Jesse was eight and came to them with some simple addition and subtraction that they told him the truth—at least, part of the truth. That Carson wasn’t his biological father, but he loved him as much as if he were.
Madison put her hand to her stomach. She felt sick. She should never have told Jesse that his father hadn’t wanted him. She should never have told Jesse that his father was a wild college boy and she’d had a lapse in judgment. That it had been a one-night stand. She didn’t say that, exactly—she had to phrase it so an eight-year-old would understand—but Jesse got it.
She just hadn’t expected that Sean and Jesse would ever meet.
Her phone rang. It was a blocked number, but she answered it immediately.
“Hello?”
“Mom?”
“Jesse! Oh God, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom. Sorry I didn’t call sooner, we couldn’t get a signal. Dad wants to talk to you.”
There were muffled voices, then Carson came on the phone. He said to Jesse in the background, “Go grab me a bottled water, will you please, Jess? Then you can talk to your mom again.”
A second later Carson said in a low voice, “Madison, what have you done?”
“What have I done? You disappeared with our son! I waited at the airport, thinking you missed your flight, but you didn’t call, didn’t text. You weren’t on any plane and you checked out on Saturday. I have no idea where you’ve been for three days! What the hell is going on, Carson? Why haven’t you returned my calls?”
“Stop. Please, Madison. Just calm down.”
“Calm down?”
“You panicked. You’re putting us all in danger. Someone has been sniffing around, a PI making calls. Did you hire someone to find me?”
“Yes! Yes I did because I thought you were kidnapped or … or worse.”
“Dear God, Madison, you’re going to get us all killed! Call them off.”
Madison sank down into the hotel desk chair. Killed? Killed? This could not be happening. What was her husband doing?
“Are you being held? For ransom? Do they want money? I have money—my dad—”