A week had passed since John had left, and though Sarah spoke to him every day, the weight of his absence was beginning to wear on her. John had tried to reassure her on every call, telling her not to worry, promising that he'd figure a way out of whatever mess Oliver had trapped him in. But his voice had grown more strained with each conversation, and Sarah could feel the tension between the lines of his words.
Sarah stood in the quiet of their home, absentmindedly touching her stomach. She hadn't told John about the baby yet, not wanting to burden him while he was away. She knew he would worry, and the last thing she wanted was for him to feel more pressure than he already did. But she couldn't keep the secret forever. Every day it became harder to hide, and with John gone, she felt more alone than ever.
She needed help,help that John, despite his best efforts, wouldn't be able to offer in time. The idea had been gnawing at her for days, and finally, after much hesitation, she made a decision.
Sarah pulled out her phone and dialed a number she hadn't called in months. As the line rang, she felt her heart pounding in her chest. After a few rings, her father, Peter Lance, answered.
"Hello?" came his familiar voice, clipped and formal as ever.
Sarah swallowed hard, her voice faltering at first. "Dad… it's Sarah."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, a silence that stretched just long enough to make Sarah wonder if he would hang up.
"What do you want, Sarah?" Peter's voice was cold, but not entirely unkind. He had never approved of her marriage to John, but they had been family once, and perhaps that still counted for something.
"I… I need a job," Sarah blurted out, her desperation pushing her forward. "I need help. I wouldn't be asking if I had any other choice, but I," She hesitated, her hand drifting to her stomach again. "I'm pregnant, Dad. I can't keep living like this. Please… I'm begging you."
There was another long silence, but this time it felt different, like something had shifted. Peter didn't speak for a moment, and Sarah could almost hear him thinking, weighing his options.
"You're… pregnant?" Peter asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.
Sarah nodded, though he couldn't see her. "Yes. Your grandchild."
There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line, and when Peter finally spoke again, his voice was reluctant but firm. "Come over tomorrow. We'll talk."
Relief washed over Sarah, but it was tinged with apprehension. She knew this wouldn't be easy, but it was a start. "Thank you, Dad. I… I really appreciate it."
She hung up the phone, feeling a mixture of hope and dread. She had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but she was willing to do whatever it took to secure her future and her child's.
At the Lance Mansion
Unbeknownst to Sarah, Taylor had overheard the entire conversation. He stood just outside his father's office, listening with growing rage as his sister pleaded for help. The idea that Peter would even consider giving her a job, especially after she had disgraced the family by marrying John, was infuriating.
Taylor stormed into the room as soon as the call ended, his face twisted with fury. "You're giving her a job?" he spat, glaring at his father. "After everything she's done? Are you out of your mind?"
Peter glanced up from his desk, his expression calm but stern. "I'm not discussing this with you, Taylor."
But Taylor wasn't backing down. "Oh, I think you should. You're really going to help her after she ran off with that pathetic loser? You're going to give her a job because she's pregnant? What about the rest of us? What about the family's reputation?"
Peter sighed, leaning back in his chair. "She's carrying my grandchild, Taylor. I can't just turn her away."
Taylor scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "Is that what this is about? The grandchild? You think that baby's going to save the family name or something? You're pathetic, Dad. You're weak."
Peter's eyes darkened, but he remained composed. "Watch your mouth, Taylor."
But Taylor wasn't finished. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a sneer. "You think I don't know about all the women, Dad? You think I haven't seen you sneaking around, covering up your little affairs? If you give Sarah that job, I'll make sure everyone knows what a hypocrite you really are."
Peter's face hardened, his calm exterior cracking just slightly. "You're walking on thin ice, Taylor."
Taylor glared at his father, his hands balled into fists. But he knew he couldn't push too far. Peter was still the head of the family, the one holding the purse strings. Without him, Taylor had nothing.
With a frustrated growl, Taylor turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Peter sat in silence for a moment, his hands clasped together, staring at the door. He knew Taylor was a loose cannon, but he also knew his son wouldn't dare cross him outright. Not yet, anyway.
The Next Day
Sarah arrived at the Lance mansion the next morning, her nerves on edge as she approached the grand house she had once called home. She hadn't set foot inside since the day she married John, and the memories that flooded her mind as she walked up the steps were both bittersweet and painful.
She rang the doorbell, her heart pounding in her chest, and waited. After what felt like an eternity, the door swung open, and there stood Evelyn Lance, her mother, with a look of pure disdain on her face.
"What are you doing here?" Evelyn snapped, her voice dripping with contempt. "You have no right to show your face around here after what you've done."
Sarah straightened her back, trying to keep her voice calm. "I'm here to see Dad. It's none of your business."
Evelyn's eyes narrowed, her lip curling in disgust. "You're a disgrace, Sarah. You ran off with that worthless man, threw away everything we gave you, and now you come crawling back? Pathetic."
Sarah clenched her fists, her anger bubbling beneath the surface. "I'm not here for you, Mom. I'm here for Dad."
"Get out of my house," Evelyn hissed, stepping forward. "You're not welcome here."
Before Sarah could respond, Peter appeared in the hallway behind her mother, his face as stern as ever. He looked at Sarah, then at Evelyn, and after a brief pause, his expression darkened.
"Sarah," Peter said, his voice cold. "Leave my house. There's nothing here for you."
Sarah's heart stopped. She stared at her father, shock and hurt flashing across her face. "What?"
Peter's eyes didn't waver. "You heard me. Leave."