Gillian furrowed her brow slightly.
"We aren't heading in the same direction. You don't have to do this."
"Get in," York commanded. Though his tone was casual, it carried the undeniable pressure of someone used to being obeyed.
She stared at him, remaining silent for a few seconds. Finally realizing she couldn't win this battle, she moved to open the rear door.
He spoke up again. "Mrs. Foster, I came all this way to pick you up. Do you really see me as your personal chauffeur?"
She took a deep breath, withdrew her hand, and pulled open the passenger door instead, bringing a satisfied smirk to the man's face.
After their last bitter argument, she genuinely thought he would stop seeking her out.
But she had forgotten something crucial. No matter how much York disliked her or how badly they fought, he still cared immensely about the child in her womb.
Now that Hailey was out of the country, he had even more time to obsess over the baby that no longer existed.
Once inside the car, Gillian turned to stare out the window in quiet contemplation.
She was trying to figure out how to break the news of her miscarriage.
No matter how she spun it, he was going to explode with rage. But given the current situation, she absolutely could not let him find out.
Her father was in prison and desperately needed York's connections and money.
Gillian rubbed her temples, a budding headache throbbing behind her eyes.
"Not feeling well?"
Seeing her massage her temples, the man asked in a low voice.
Gillian paused. She hadn't expected him to pay attention to her while driving.
She shook her head. "I'm just a little tired after a long shift."
"What do you want for dinner tonight? I'll have Susan cook it and bring it to Bayview Apartments."
"There's no need. We have food at home; I can cook it myself," Gillian declined immediately.


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