The room falls into a heavy silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. Alex stands frozen, his blue eyes staring at the phone on the desk like it's a ticking time bomb. For the first time since I've known him, he looks genuinely lost.
"Alex?" I ask, my voice trembling. "What does this mean?"
He turns to me, his expression a storm of frustration and disbelief. "I don't know, Emma. If she's really pregnant… I—" He breaks off, shaking his head.
Michael, still leaning against the bar with his whiskey in hand, snorts. "Oh, that's not the real problem. Afterall, she's your wife. But whether it's real or not, she's already won the first round. The media's eating it up."
Alex glares at him. "You're not helping, Michael."
"I'm just being honest, brother. You're in deep, and you need to figure out how to get out before you drown."
