Paragon

Chapter 1

The hard, cemented concrete rings softly as water droplets scatter over the flat surface. I focus on that. I try to focus on the noise, on the look of it- focus on anything but what I just heard- but no, life isn't that easy.

I'm pregnant. According to Gloria Connor's, my physician who had to explain the details to me twice, proclaimed conception took two weeks and it's been another two since then. I've been pregnant for a month and haven't even known it.

I'm having Stellan Reid's child.

Out of all the outrageous things taking place in my life, this hits the nail. This is it.

Stellan isn't even due back from Paris for another couple of days. I can't tell him this over the phone. I can't do it. Bleakly, I realize that I actually don't have anyone to tell it to- that I trust enough with the information.

With the trial approaching, I can't let this information get out until I'm showing. Until there's no way to hide it. Vance Water's has been particularly quiet these past couple of weeks and while that should make me happy, I find myself only more frightened that he's got his own evil, sick, twisted plan behind his belt, waiting to spring it on us when we're most vulnerable.

Will we be strong enough?

Will we be able to get through more heartache if it beckons?

My eyes wander from the gray, dirty ground as my hearing heightens loudly- a child is nearby. I look to a mother, holding her screaming child just barely, the toddler desperate to get out of the stronghold of her arms. Her hair is falling down from the bun she's put up, there are beads of sweat on her forehead despite the chilly weather.

She catches me looking and turns her face away, shaking her head. "Arnold- stop it!"

I stop in my place as they pass by me and turn to watch them go, my heartbeat wild. I'm torn from the two as someone's shoulder hits into mine, flinging me back.

"Walk, lady!"

Angrily, I look up as a man in a suit passes by on his phone. He looks down at me and his eyes go wide. I'm rather used to the look of recognition and not wanting to stop, I roll my eyes and move forward, forcing my feet forward in the sky high stilettos I picked out this morning.

There are photographers outside of Tremaine Franchises. They keep their distance thankfully, but I know they're snapping the photos all the while. Photos that will probably end up on newspapers and media outlets. I make my way in amongst the other busy bodies, unable to answer everyone's polite greetings.

My office is my safe haven. Once I get into it, I can be alone. I can think. I can work. I can figure out what to do.

Oli stands up as I exit the elevators, shrugging off my coat. My hair is soaked from the walk- I'm positive I look a complete mess.

"Iris?"

I nod with a small smile. "I'm fine."

"You're soaked."

"I'm fine," I repeat, sounding anything but. Who are you kidding, Tremaine?

...

The rumbling sound of washing machines are a calming mechanism. I keep my face to the ground, listening to the alternative rock playing over the speakers of laundry mat. The familiarity and comfort I feel here makes the drive worth while.

It always was easy to plan here.

I used to sit here, for hours sometimes and think of my next line or my next venture into modeling and long before that, I used to dream. I would dream of what it would be like to be normal.