Chapter 9

One week later, Amy woke up with a firm ultimatum for herself: she was going to have a baby, and love would no longer be her primary focus. She had more than enough love within herself, and her true desire was to build a family.

Being a single mother seemed ideal; she could pour all her love and laughter into raising her child without the emotional rollercoaster of love and heartbreak that had plagued her encounters with men.

After that fateful date with Ronald—or Rarcy, or whatever his name was—she realized she was better off without the complications of romantic relationships. She didn't want a man in her life, especially considering the way most men around her had behaved like jerks and Casanovas.

With no need for heartache, Amy decided to pursue motherhood on her terms, through artificial insemination. She promptly scheduled a consultation at a fertility clinic and set her first goal: to become pregnant by the end of the year.

As Amy delved into her new mission, questions filled her mind: blue or pink coats? Socks? Nursery room arrangement? Feeding plan? Baby names? After considering various options, she settled on Cassandra as a potential name.

However, her thoughts were interrupted by Nancy, her colleague at the dental surgery. Nancy reminded her about an upcoming hygiene conference in Queenstown, organized by a representative from the QueenHotel who had come to discuss it. Amy, lost in her thoughts, initially struggled to grasp the details.

Nancy, always eager for the latest gossip, prodded Amy for information. But Amy was not ready to divulge her personal plans just yet; she needed more time to sort things out before sharing the news.

"Alright, dear. I'll be expecting you. Now, about this..." Nancy redirected her attention to the Dental Hygiene Conference taking place in Queenstown and all the details concerning the representatives.

"Why would the QueenHotel representative want to speak with me? I'm just one of their guest speakers," Amy inquired.

"Because you're the most important guest speaker, that's why. He needs to discuss some logistical matters with you," Nancy replied.

"But the event is in Queenstown. Why do I need to meet at the QueenHotel in Chicago?" Amy questioned.

"That's because they also own the QueenHotel in Queenstown, and the layout is identical. Plus, it's just a chance to meet the representative," Nancy clarified.

"Alright, fine. Where should I meet him?" Amy conceded.

"At the QueenHotel," Nancy repeated. "Dear, where has your head gone? It feels like we're talking in circles. Come back to reality."

"Yes, Nancy. My apologies for being lost in thought," Amy replied.

"Well, I've cleared your schedule for the afternoon so you can go over all the conference details. Happy with that?" Nancy inquired.

"Yes, Nancy. Thank you," Amy said before heading into her dental surgery room. Her thoughts, however, were still consumed by her plans for a baby.

The afternoon swiftly arrived, and at precisely 1 p.m., Amy stood outside the fertility clinic, feeling nervous and sweaty palms. She firmly told herself there was no turning back; she was ready to become a mother.

Upon finishing her consultation, Amy couldn't believe her ears. "What?" she exclaimed. "You mean I can't even see the sperm donor?"

The consultant explained their guidelines, which included not showing the donor's picture to clients to protect their privacy. Amy protested, arguing that she wanted to see the donor's face to ensure he looked nice.

She grew frustrated with the consultant's responses and expressed her concerns about the donor's qualities. The consultant assured her that they took precautions to prevent mix-ups but admitted that such an incident had occurred once.

Amy felt her frustration reaching a boiling point and vented her concerns. She was thirty years old and anxious about her biological clock. She wanted a baby and a family, and she was terrified that waiting any longer might jeopardize her chances of conceiving. Her outburst startled the consultant.

The consultant nervously suggested getting a pet like a dog, cat, or goldfish. Amy rejected those ideas, firmly reiterating her desire for a baby and a family. When the consultant suggested a sedative to help her relax, Amy vehemently refused and stormed out.

After aimlessly walking around the area and indulging in chocolate chips to calm down, Amy found herself jolted awake by a car horn.

***

Henry raised his voice, newspaper in hand, as he pursued Justin around the house, appearing as though they were playing a game of chase. Justin tried to calm his father, reminding him not to create a scene that would tarnish the family's reputation within the department. Justin even offered support to help his father catch his breath when he stopped to rest in an armchair.

"Future heir? Justin! What on earth am I going to do with you?" Henry exclaimed once he caught his breath, swatting his son's arm as a consequence for his recent behavior. "A simple task, and you couldn't even handle it."

"Dad, what would you have me do? She barely said a word to me for fifteen minutes. The only time she spoke was to order our meals when the waitress came over," Justin defended himself.

"She's just shy," Henry tried to explain.

"Shy? Seriously?" Justin scoffed.

"Don't use that tone with me, young man!" Henry scolded, giving his son's ear a slight tug.

"Ouch, Dad, I'm sorry," Justin winced, hoping his father would release his ear. "But why are you so insistent on setting me up with random girls? You know I don't like it."

"She's not random. She's the daughter of the CEO of one of our most important clients. And I'm tired of you acting like a Casanova. Get serious. This girl could be good for you," Henry argued.

"Why does it have to be her?" Justin questioned. He thought his father could have found a better match than Michelle, who, in his opinion, was more suitable for his cousin Kyle. Quiet, mature, tall, and slim – that was more Kyle's type.

"Because she's interested in you," his father stated, raising an eyebrow.

"But she doesn't even know me. And for the record, I'm not interested in her," Justin declared.

"What don't you like about her?" Henry inquired, puzzled as to why his son wasn't attracted to someone as beautiful as Michelle. She seemed like the perfect wife for his wayward child.

"She's too quiet, too boring, doesn't hold my interest, not my type, and the list goes on. You get the idea, Dad," Justin listed his dislikes about Michelle.

"You have a type?" Henry asked, astonished that his son had specific preferences.

"Yes, Dad," Justin replied, noticing his father's incredulous expression. "Look, calm down. You might give yourself an aneurysm, and then what would Sara do?"

"The question is, what will you do if that happens?" Henry said, worried about his son's future. He didn't want Justin to continue behaving recklessly. Looking back over the past twenty-three years, he saw no improvement in his son's behavior. If anything, it had worsened. Justin seemed to play around all day without taking responsibility. He needed to change.

"I'll become the heir to the company, of course," Justin said, raising an eyebrow. In reality, he should have mentioned Kyle as the heir, but he wanted to tease his father since his ear still throbbed from the earlier tug.

"Justin, you're driving me to an early grave," Henry sighed.

"Oh, Dad, relax. Look, I'm sorry I left her like that. I did inform her that I had some business to attend to," Justin explained.

"I had to call Michelle's father and apologize on your behalf," Henry revealed, clearly upset. "Do you realize this could strain our business relationships?"

"Is it that serious?" Justin asked.

"Absolutely," Henry affirmed. "I hope I haven't caused a rift between you two."

"Sorry you had to apologize for me. I hope it won't affect our companies' relationships," Justin replied sincerely.

Apologies don't undo what's done, Henry thought. His son would still be a playboy, disregarded by high society. He needed to reform him. Then, an idea came to mind.

"Alright, all is forgiven, but you need to make amends," Henry said with a sly smile.

"Make amends?" Justin questioned, sensing trouble. "Dad, I rely on your money. Technically, you're asking me to use your money to repay you."

"No, I mean it in terms of actions and consequences," Henry clarified, his plan taking shape.

Justin didn't like the direction this conversation was heading. He recognized the mischievous smirk on his father's face. He couldn't help but ask, "How?"

"Go to Queenstown next week," Henry said.

"Great!" Justin exclaimed, excited at the prospect of a trip to Queenstown for skiing and adventure. He loved those activities.

"With Michelle," his father added, causing Justin's enthusiasm to plummet like a deflated balloon.

"What? Why?" Justin protested.

"You'll be accompanying Michelle to Queenstown. She's never been there before, and you could be the perfect guide," Henry explained.

"I'm far from perfect, Dad," Justin muttered.

"Kyle is busy organizing the Dental Hygiene Conference there, so you're the best candidate," Henry revealed. He pretended to offer his son a choice between a holiday and work, knowing that whichever Justin chose, he would fall into his trap.

"Fine, I'll entertain her," Justin reluctantly agreed. Escorting Michelle around Queenstown sounded boring, but it was better than organizing a conference.

"That's settled then," Henry said, satisfied with his plan.

"Now, get out of my sight before I actually do have a heart attack," Henry jokingly scolded his son.

"Yes, Dad," Justin grumbled under his breath as he shut the door to his father's office, his annoyance palpable.

Justin despised being ordered around, and the prospect of being forced to accompany Michelle to Queenstown only added to his bad mood. His irritation deepened when he spotted Winton, his father's secretary, waiting near the elevator.

"Master Justin, how are you today?" Winton asked, rubbing his hands together with an air of subservience. Justin's gloomy demeanor was impossible to miss as he slipped on his D&B shades, even indoors, purely for the cool factor, as he continued toward his car. Winton trailed behind him like a dutiful servant.

Justin had never particularly liked Winton. The man always seemed to have a sly look about him, as if he harbored some secret. But since Justin rarely set foot in the company, he couldn't be certain of the man's intentions. Perhaps he should start paying more attention, not necessarily to work but to the free chocolate bars available for guests.

"In a foul mood, I see. Is there anything I can do to help improve it?" Winton inquired, hoping to please Justin, but his attempt only backfired.

"Yes," Justin retorted, turning to face Winton. In a voice loud enough to draw attention, he demanded, "Get out of my sight."

"Master Justin, I'd love to oblige, but Master Kyle wishes to speak with you," Winton explained, indicating that he had been following Justin for this reason.

"Don't act like my teacher, Winton," Justin snapped before storming off, leaving Winton staring after him in bewilderment.

"I wonder what's gotten into Master Justin," Winton mumbled, scratching his head in confusion before returning to his desk.

"What do you want?" Justin interjected during the ongoing meeting between Kyle and his associates regarding the upcoming Dental Hygiene Conference in Queenstown.

Kyle glanced at his cousin, who had barged into the meeting unceremoniously. Shaking his head in exasperation at Justin's typical behavior – entering the room like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum – he gestured for Justin to sit in the corner, where there were a few toys and books.

Why did everyone treat him like a child these days? Justin wondered as he slouched on the plush black couch. Now he truly felt like an unruly kid who had been grounded.

Blast this! He sprung up from the couch, slammed the door so hard it nearly vibrated off its hinges, and stomped off to his car, leaving Kyle to apologize to his associates for the disturbance.

After driving for a solid ten minutes, Justin's foul mood showed no sign of improvement. In fact, it deepened as he encountered traffic jams every few blocks. He cursed the traffic lights when he got stuck for a mere fifteen minutes, nearly losing his sanity until the cars started moving again at a snail's pace.

What was wrong with Chicago today? he grumbled. It was only two o'clock in the afternoon; rush hour didn't begin until five when most people headed home from work.

After finally escaping the congested main highway, Justin found himself in an unfamiliar part of town. The houses were smaller than he was accustomed to, and he couldn't fathom how people could live in such cramped spaces. Given his upbringing, even his Central Chicago apartment boasted more than the usual three bedrooms and ample square footage.

In this area, everything seemed tiny – the houses, sidewalks, and the narrow roads that barely accommodated a single car. The scenery was unremarkable, with random bushes dotting the landscape – hardly worth a second glance.

Where was he, anyway? Some kind of dump?

Then, in a surprising twist, he spotted her – the avocado woman – casually strolling down the narrow road, seemingly in a daze. What was she thinking? Did she have a death wish? What if a speeding car came around the corner? She'd be risking her life, or at the very least, a serious injury requiring weeks in the hospital.

But why was he even concerned about the welfare of this avocado woman? Shouldn't he be teasing—

Ah. An evil smirk crept across Justin's face as a devious idea took root in his mind. She was the perfect target for venting his pent-up anger and frustration. With a blaring horn that could wake the dead, he drew her attention to his arrival, announcing to her that the Greek god had descended.