Sage

9

Harry.

"Tell me something good, Jim."

The chubby man scratches at his balding head and purses his lips, reading through the papers attached to the clipboard with a look akin to hopelessness.

"If what she says is true...and the unborn child is yours..." He begins, and I motion my hands impatiently for him to continue. "She could get anywhere from 1.5 million to 2 million in alimony," He sighs, and my hands clench into fists at the number.

Jim sat on the couch in my condo on the northeast side, visibly tired from being woken up at the ass crack of dawn to make the twenty-minute commute here as opposed to the five-minute one to the mansion. I didn't want there to be any chance for Quinn to hear our conversation, so I had to play it safe.

Gale agreed to drive up here with me for emotional support, but all he's done was stress me out from the couch where he played on Play Station silently, pulling his headphone back occasionally to open his mouth.

"And Eliana," I ask, watching as he blinks and continues to flip through papers.

"If she were to put you on child support..." He trails off, "She could be eligible for 10,000 a month. More if she wanted."

My head falls back into a loud groan and the glass of whiskey I sipped from was suddenly being tossed down my throat. Gale audibly sucks air through his teeth in a grimace, quickly pausing the game and setting the remote on the glass coffee table.

I stalk to the large sleek windows that cover the entire wall, looking down at the city as I pour myself another glass and completely down that one. These women are going to run my fucking pockets dry.

"Worst case scenario," I ask in a stated tone, keeping my eyes trained on the lively scenery.

"Worst case, Ms. Quinn gets alimony and Ms. Eliana places you on child support. This will go public and some of your clients may not appreciate working with a man who had a child out on his wife. Especially someone of ...Eliana's background..." He trails off and I snap my head toward him with furrowed brows.

"So because she's black I'll lose more business?" I clarify impudently, and Jim regrettably nods his head. "That's fucking bullshit," I hiss under my breath.

"It's the music world bro, everything is 1950 and 2022 at the same time," Gale tells me, leaning forward and grabbing his glass of wine to take a small sip before placing it back down as Jim speaks.

"That and the divorce. And you said your father wouldn't approve. Worst case scenario, he black lists you. You'll have a hard time making any future investments in major cities."

"So what the fuck can I do?" I motion my hand out. I hated feeling so trapped, so close to freedom only to have everything swiped from underneath me in thirty minutes.

Jim sets his clipboard down and takes off his glasses, pulling up his dress pants and rubbing his nose, "Well, you can get Eliana tested. All you need is a blood sample, that would be your first step. If the baby is yours, you're screwed, but it's better off knowing. Now if it were to come back yours, if you want to protect your image, I'd suggest keeping it under wraps. Put yourself on monthly child support and minimize visitation. Newsline would be all over it if you were visiting the southside too much. As far as Quinn goes, as long as you can keep this stable until she signs the papers, you should be fine."

I nod, taking in his words with another sip of the whiskey, grimacing at the taste as I've always done. Jim's off-the-record advice was always much better than the legal bullshit he spewed out.

I barely had enough time to think about what I would do with Eliana's baby if it came back to be mine. I was so busy panicking that the thought simply never came.