Page 53 of After-Hours Heir

Her mother was frozen for almost a full minute. It would’ve been funny, except it was actually disconcerting to see her mother shocked.

She always acted like she was unbothered and several steps ahead of Sylvie. Or that like anything Sylvie said was deeply uninteresting. She didn’t manage it this time.

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.” She took a deep breath. “Christos Onassis.”

Her mother’s blue eyes rounded in shock. “And you didn’t have a wedding?”

“No,” Sylvie said, somehow completely unsurprised that that was her mother’s biggest concern.

“Sylvie, it would’ve been fantastic business for you.”

“I don’t really care about business, Mom. I’m trying to survive this very strange left turn that my life has taken.”

“It is not a strange left turn to marry a billionaire. It’s perhaps the smartest thing you’ve ever done.”

“I’m pregnant.”

And just then her mother looked delighted, and Sylvie was entirely certain it had nothing to do with finding out she was going to be a grandmother.

“Oh, Sylvie. You trapped him. You really are a very, very smart girl.”

“I did not trap him,” she said. “If anything, he trapped me. He demanded that I marry him. He held the publishing company hostage…”

“Sylvie,” her mother said, scolding. “There’s no other choice when it comes to a billionaire. You marry him. How is your prenup?”

“Expansive, don’t worry. He’s very thorough.”

“I would imagine. There are rumors that he is completely ruthless.”

She took a sip of her water and tried to smile. “All true.”

“I’m soproudof you.”

And Sylvie, who had never expected to hear those words, ever, felt her stomach turn over. Her mother was proud of her. For doing something that Sylvie had not done, not really. She thought that Sylvie had schemed and trapped herself a rich man.

She was proud of her because…she had unprotected sex. With the “right” man—meaning a rich one. She didn’t care if Sylvie was happy, she didn’t care if her marriage to Christos was good. She didn’t even care, really, that she was going to be a grandmother.

Had Sylvie ever really wanted her mother to be proud of her? When the end result was this…

Nothing that she did really mattered. She hadn’t understood that. Not before.

All of the good things she did. All of the hard work. It just didn’t matter.

It just didn’t. She was lonely. Her mother didn’t care. She had been strong-armed, and all of this her mother didn’t care about.

She cared about the publishing company, and she had done anything she could to save it, and it wasn’t that her mother found clever at all.

“Why did you marry Dad?” Sylvie asked.

“I loved him,” her mother said, simply.

Sylvie sat there and looked across the table at her mother. Her long blond hair was artfully styled into curls that were designed to seem effortless. Her makeup was natural. It made her glow, made her seem youthful. She wore deceptively simple cuts of very expensive fabric.

Her father had never been that. That effortless chic, that simple elegance. Not even close.

“You really loved him?”