Chapter 302

I furrowed my brow, pondering for a moment before a solution struck me. I quickly grabbed my phone and texted Reynaldo. I didn't know if this would work, but if he truly wanted me to have his baby, this should.

After sending the message, I leaned against the sink, anxiously waiting. I didn't know if he'd come. My message simply read: "Come to the bathroom for a moment, I have something to tell you."

After five minutes, he hadn't arrived. Could he have missed the message? Should I call him?

Hesitating, I waited another two minutes before dialing his number. Suddenly, a pleasant ringing came from behind. Startled, I looked up to see Reynaldo in the mirror. He'd arrived silently.

I was speechless. His phone was still ringing; I quickly hung up my call, turned, and looked at him respectfully. Regardless of my resentment, he was my superior. I lowered my eyes slightly and said, "Mr. Humphrey!"

Reynaldo pocketed his phone and asked coldly, "What do you want?" His expressionless face and averted gaze showed his lingering anger from the previous night. I couldn't understand his anger.

Seeing my silence, he said coldly, "If you have nothing to say, I'll leave. I haven't much time to waste."

"Wait…" I called out, seeing him about to leave. He didn't turn, but paused. I bit my lip, unsure how to proceed, given his cold indifference. He waited a few seconds, then started to walk away. His patience was clearly wearing thin.

As he neared the bathroom door, I blurted out, "I can't drink alcohol!"

He stopped, turned, and sneered. "Someone who frequents bars can't drink? Who would believe that?"

"I really can't," I insisted.

His sneer deepened. He approached, his gaze intense, his tone dripping with sarcasm and resentment. "In the beginning, I forbade you from going to bars, from drinking. Yet you insisted, spending the day drunk with those male models and playboys. Now, you're suddenly coy about a drink with a client?"

"Esmeralda," he said, "I know what you're like. Don't pretend to be a good girl with me."

His words stung, piercing my heart. I clenched my fists, suppressing my bitterness, and defiantly asked, "Kimberly could refuse a drink for health reasons. Why can't I refuse because I 'feel unwell'?"

"I said you're different from her."