At 11:58 p.m., my checking account held $3.18, the formula can was empty, and my seven-month-old daughter was crying from hunger

I stood in the dimly lit parking garage, the cold air biting at my cheeks. Part of me knew I shouldn't have come, but another part of me was tired of running. I wanted to face him. I wanted to end this once and for all.

A figure stepped out from behind a concrete pillar. Derek. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his face twisted in anxiety.

"You actually came," he said, his voice echoing in the empty garage.

"What do you want, Derek?" I asked, keeping my distance. "I have to get home to Sophie."

Hearing her name made him flinch. "So she's... she's alive? You kept her?"

"Of course I kept her!" I said, my anger finally bubbling to the surface. "She is my daughter. She is seven months old, she is beautiful, and she is thriving, despite the fact that you left us with absolutely nothing."

"Look, Clara," Derek said, taking a step closer, his voice dropping. "I'm sorry, okay? I was young, I panicked. But you can't be here. You're a ticking time bomb for my career. How do you even know Ethan Cole? Why is he defending you? Did you... did you sleep with him to get this job?"

A slap echoed loudly through the garage.

My hand stung, but the satisfaction of watching Derek's head snap back was worth it. His cheek was bright red, his eyes wide with shock.

"Don't you dare insult me, and don't you dare insult Ethan," I hissed, my voice trembling with rage. "Ethan Cole is ten times the man you will ever be. He helped me when my daughter was starving, while you were busy buying expensive suits and pretending you don't have a child."

"Clara, please," Derek pleaded, looking around nervously. "If Cole finds out about the baby, if he finds out I abandoned you, he'll fire me. He has this huge thing about family values and corporate ethics. I've worked so hard for this job!"

"You worked hard?" I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "I worked twelve-hour shifts while pregnant. I survived on water and bread to make sure I had enough money for prenatal care. You don't know the meaning of hard work, Derek."

"I'll pay you," Derek said desperately, reaching for his wallet. "I'll give you child support. Just... don't tell anyone. Let's sign an agreement. You keep quiet, and I'll send you money every month."

"I don't want your blood money, Derek," I said, stepping back. "And I don't need it. I have a great job now. I can support my daughter on my own."

"You don't understand," Derek sneered, his desperation turning back into anger. "Ethan Cole isn't a saint. He's a businessman. If he finds out you're bringing personal drama into his corporate headquarters, he'll discard you just like everyone else does. He's using you to look like a philanthropist."

"That is where you are wrong, Mr. Vance."