Atlas’s leg bounced under the table of the conference room. He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before knowing he was going to face Jasmine today. The family lawyers were having low discussions with his parents. Oliver sat next to Christina, stone-faced. Christina leaned away, wearing the mask of indifference that so many in their social group had mastered. But even the makeup she wore couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes.
Knock. Knock.
His heart jumped. His stomach knotted and flipped.
“Come in,” his father instructed.
The door opened and a redheaded woman in a pants suit walked in, file in hand. Jasmine trailed behind, her head held high. The simple floral dress she wore hugged her figure. Her green eyes met his, her mouth parting. The tension in the room wound around him, pulling tighter, making it hard to breathe. She darted her gaze away, focusing on Oliver. Right. The whole reason we are even here. He’d been a fool to think she ever wanted him.
“Good morning. I’m Bridget Stevens. I’ll be acting as Jasmine Evans’s attorney.” Bridget motioned towards Jasmine before they took a seat.
“Andy Graham, Mike Fabricco, and Terry Buldoc. We’re the family lawyers for the Remingtons.” Andy introduced three of the ten lawyers their family employed for various needs.
Bridget scanned the room, looking between Atlas and his twin brother. “Which one of you is Oliver?”
“I am,” Oliver said.
The lawyers started the conversation, but their voices droned into the background. Atlas couldn’t take his eyes off Jasmine. She looked so small and alone. His family had hired sharks for lawyers, and hers appeared to be fresh out of law school. Jasmine sat straight, not glancing his way again. And it fucking tore him up inside. He knew he’d hurt her. But how could he ever make things right with so much unknown between them? She’d been with his brother. She’d lied to him. How could he trust her again? I lied to her too.
“I’d just like to know what you planned on getting out of blackmailing my son?” his mother asked bluntly.
Jasmine flinched. “I had no idea who your son was when I met him, so how could I be trying to blackmail him?”
“Oh, that’s right, you were just some floozy in a bar bathroom.” His mother dismissed her.
Atlas clenched his fists, his jaw ticcing.
“Excuse me—” Bridget started to say.
Jasmine sat forward. “I will not let you hold my past choices over my head. Not when Zoey’s father made the same decision as I did—only he was married. I’d say infidelity is far more immoral than a young woman choosing what she does with her own body. I regret nothing because I got my beautiful daughter from it.”
His heart lurched. He was proud of her for standing up for herself, but the truth of their union was a painful reminder that he had no place harboring any lingering feelings for her.
His mother’s face turned beet red. “Why, you little—”
“Stop!” his father interjected, annoyed. “What do you want to make this disappear?”
Jasmine swallowed, blinking rapidly. She stood up, pulling out several photos and sliding them on the table towards Oliver. “Zoey Jane Evans is your daughter’s name. I named her Zoey, meaning life, because as I grew her, she gave me a new life.” She pointed to the first image: a shot of Zoey proudly beaming next to a sandcastle covered in shells. “She’s three years old. She loves playing on the beach and with her cousins.” She motioned to the next. “Zoey is kind, and beautiful, and strong. She’s your daughter.”
Atlas’s eyes flicked over the photos. She gets her strength from you.
“We don’t need the dramatics or to have my son’s indiscretions flaunted in his pregnant wife’s face. Have some class.” His mother shoved the pictures away.
“She’s your daughter,” Jasmine pleaded with Oliver, who wouldn’t even look her in the eye.
“She’s a bastard!” Christina shouted, erupting into sobs.
Oliver put his arm around her.
Jasmine gathered the pictures together and sat back down, resignation steeling her features.
“Why should we care?” his mother asked coldly.
“Because she’s a part of your family,” Jasmine answered.
The silence was deafening. Atlas could read the realization written across his parents’ faces because the same one popped into his mind. Being part of their family meant being a part of the Remington empire. Did she mean Zoey was entitled to a portion of the shares of the company? She was here for her cut.
His mother shook her head. His father’s sharp gaze was unflinching towards the mother of their grandchild and the rightful heir to a small fortune because of her bloodline. Their grandfather was old-fashioned and ruthless. If he found out, Oliver would be kicked out of the company and lose his shares.
“What do you want?” Atlas asked, his voice hoarse, afraid of the confirmation.
Jasmine turned towards him, her expression softening. Her gaze wavered, the pain in her eyes still fresh. “If Oliver doesn’t want to be a part of Zoey’s life, if he can’t accept her as his daughter and treat her how she deserves to be treated, I want him to sign over his parental rights to her. I want assurances you will leave my inn alone and never reach out to us again.”
“And . . . how much?” Atlas pressed.
“I don’t want your money. If my daughter needs something, I’ll provide for her.” Jasmine lifted her chin. She slid the pictures in the file and motioned to the lawyer.
“You have until Friday to give us an answer.” Bridget stood.
The room tilted. Jasmine didn’t want their money? She was truly walking away from potentially millions of dollars.
The door burst open and Joseph Remington himself walked in. Atlas’s grandfather stood tall in an expensive, tailored suit. His very presence was still so commanding at eighty years old. His white hair was neatly combed to the side as always.
“Dad! What are you doing here?” Atlas’s father gasped.
His grandfather shook his head, tucking his hands into the pockets of his suit. “You think I don’t know what the hell is going on in my own company? These lawyers work for me as long as I have breath in my lungs. I got the paternity results before you did, you baboon.” He walked towards Jasmine, eyeing her up and down critically.
Atlas stood, wanting to get between Jasmine and his grandfather. She’d been through enough. I’ve put her though too much. All this time, she’d meant everything. She’d loved him. Jasmine had laid it all on the line and he’d thrown it in her face and walked away. He’d left her when she needed him most. Shame coated him, weighing heavily on his shoulders.
His parents exchanged worried glances. Oliver was white as a ghost, holding on to his wife as she wiped her running mascara.
“Tell me, Miss Evans, are you good at math?” Grandfather asked.
Jasmine’s brows formed a triangle. “Are you asking me that because I’m Asian?”
Joseph chuckled. “Oh dear, you are a feisty one. No, that’s not what I meant. See, I’m trying to understand why you would let go of a multimillion-dollar inheritance for your daughter. That doesn’t sound so smart.”
“That depends on how much I value my daughter and her safe and loving upbringing, Mr. Remington,” Jasmine replied.
He nodded towards Jasmine. “I like her.”
“Dad—” Atlas’s father tried to speak.
“You and your wife are not needed here. Get out,” Joseph growled.
“But, Dad—”
“Out!” his grandfather shouted.
His parents stood and stalked out with one hate-filled glance towards Jasmine before they exited.
“You too.” Joseph nodded to Oliver and Christina, and the lawyers.
“Yes, sir,” Oliver agreed, quickly obeying, no doubt trying to hang on to the thread of hope he wouldn’t lose everything.
“Stay.” His grandfather motioned to Atlas before turning back to Jasmine and her lawyer. “I’ll have the papers drawn up this week. Zoey will have a trust in her name that she can access when she turns thirty. Until then, if she needs anything for education or her care, let me know directly. I’ll send you a check to keep her taken care of for a while. Think of it as back child support.”
Jasmine waved away the card he offered her. “I can’t—”
His grandfather shook his head. “No strings attached. She doesn’t have to be a part of this life and our family if she doesn’t want to. But I would love to get to know her, see her a couple of times a year. Maybe an invite to her next birthday party.”
Jasmine nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. Atlas wanted to wrap her up in his arms and tell her it would all be okay. But he’d lost that right.
“Is there anything she needs right now?” Joseph asked.
“No.” She shook her head.
“She needs a decent car,” Atlas spoke, drawing her attention.
“It will be delivered tomorrow.”
Jasmine whipped her attention back to his grandfather. “I’ll pay you back. I promise.”
He shook his head. “Being a part of my great-granddaughter’s life will be enough payment. You haven’t seen a very good representation of my family. But for as long as I’m alive, the Remingtons will never shirk their responsibility and they will always take care of what’s theirs.”
Jasmine glanced back to Atlas as if she needed his assurance. The realization was like a sucker punch to his stomach. Some part of her still trusted him—at least more than she trusted his family. “My grandfather has many faults, but he’s true to his word.” Unlike me.
She smiled, eyes shiny with tears. “Thank you so much, Mr. Remington.”
“Call me Great-Grandpa Remington.” He chuckled.
Jasmine nodded towards the door, and spoke to Bridget. “Can you give me a minute?”
Her lawyer said, “Of course.”
After she’d exited the room, Jasmine walked over to Atlas. He stood, holding his breath. This woman had every right to hate him. He’d promised her he’d face anything with her and then at the first sign of difficulty he’d left her alone to weather the storm herself. He’d succumbed to his own insecurities rather than trusting in the love between them. But they were still living in two different worlds. He was a part of the Remington empire and she lived in a small town running an inn that she’d never give up.
“Atlas?” Jasmine’s voice trembled slightly.
“Yeah?” I’m sorry, my love.
“Thank you.”
Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t one of them. She must have read the confusion on his face because she continued, “You gave me and Zoey an amazing couple of weeks. And I wanted you to know I’m sorry for any pain I caused you.”
His heart broke all over again. Regret over the hurtful words he’d muttered to her at their last encounter burned his neck with shame. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I’m the one who owes you an apology.” He wanted to reach out and hold her. But they had an audience.
“I’d better go.” She gave him one last lingering glance before she nodded to his grandfather and walked out the door.
“That one’s got gumption. Don’t see that much these days. She’s a fierce protector of that little girl,” his grandfather said.
Atlas nodded. “She’s doing the right thing keeping Zoey away from all of this.”
“You don’t meet a woman like that every day, son. Believe me, I’ve spent a lifetime trying.”
“She’s the most genuine person I’ve ever known,” Atlas agreed. And I love her.
“Too bad she isn’t Remington-marriage material.” His grandfather shook his head.
Atlas tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s not from our social status. She’s an innkeeper for Christ’s sake. She isn’t Remington material, but she’s the mother of that child and there isn’t anything we can do about it now.”
Rage burned hot, slicking over his skin. Atlas shook his head. “I quit.”
Joseph’s mouth dropped open. “No, you don’t. You’re the only one in this family I can trust.”
“I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want it.” He pulled out his tie as he stalked towards the door. If he hurried, he could still catch her.
“Ha! Since when is business about what you want? You weren’t complaining when it paid for that penthouse or the jets that flew you and your friends all around the world. You sound like a whiny, ungrateful child.”
Atlas opened the door and turned. “I quit, effective immediately.”
“You won’t get another dime from me! You really want to forfeit shares in a billion-dollar company? All for a woman?” His grandfather was fuming. He’d never seen him so angry.
“You said yourself—a woman like that doesn’t come around every day. She’s worth more than my inheritance. She’s worth . . . everything.”
“Atlas, don’t be rash. Let’s think this through—Atlas!” His grandfather’s shout echoed as he slammed the door shut on his past and sprinted to the stairwell towards his future.
He was done letting others decide what was best for him while he tried to live up to everyone else’s expectations except his own. He needed to find the woman he loved, beg her forgiveness, and hope by some miracle she’d give him a chance to make things right.