Loving You Is Not An Accident: It’s Destiny - 98 LET ME FACE THIS

He really wanted to touch and smoothen away her button up shirt because it was crumpled and one of its buttons is unfastened. Ingrid then detected where his eyes glued on.

“Hey, why are you looking at my chest?” she protested.

“Ahh, can you fasten the button of your shirt? It shows your cleavage and it’s crumpled, too.”

In a flash, she covered it and she turned her back on him. “Geez!” she closed her eyes out of embarrassment.

“Are you ready?” she nodded and she followed him as he leads.

When they step out of the plane, ten bulky men in black suit were already on standby, waiting for their arrival. They escorted the three to protect them from any reporters who will try to pester them.

The space between the men in suit and them is approximately six meters which makes the three to appear unguarded. But then, this makes some passengers to notice them and whispered among themselves as they are still one of the hottest news.

Walking in some distance, there is still no commotion from the reporters. Ingrid heaved a sigh of relief. Her gait, then, becomes more confident, her head high and appeared unafraid, far from the weakness she displayed while she was on the plane.

Clifford looked over Ingrid and a smile formed on his lips as soon as he sees her transformation.

‘That’s my woman.’

Gradually, Clifford could now identify what he felt for her, but he could never act on impulse. He needed to know her better, to understand her more, to dote on her.

“Agghh! But why am I having these thoughts?” he is bewildered but despite this, he seems calm and immovable.

They never noticed that some photographers had already sneakily taken some pictures of them from the distance. One of the photographers had a sinister smile plastered on his face at what he captured: the photo taken showed Clifford smiled lovingly over Ingrid who seems to be unaware and indifferent to her surroundings.

Little did Clifford and Ingrid knew that there are still reporters who were waiting for them to arrive and to get at least a few minutes interview.

In a blink, the reporters rushed to their side, at once the men in suit surrounded their master who was carrying a child in his arms, securing that the child will not be hurt or be awaken, and Ingrid as well.

Flashes from the cameras were like lightning, clicking every now and then, taking the right angles. The reporters, on the other hand, incessantly pester them with questions.

“Mr. Briggs, why are you with Ingrid Howard, is it true that you are secretly married?!” one of the reporters asks.

“Mr. Briggs that child you’re holding, is it your son? Who is his mother? Is it Miss Howard?” another one shouted.

“Miss Howard, we also heard that your son is not created naturally, why? Do you detest making love? Are you a lesbian? Are you a man-hater? Or maybe your child has some disabilities or deformities as a result of the IVF. Come on show us your child!” the entire reporters laugh.

Clifford clenched his jaw while Ingrid froze the moment they heard the reporter’s accusing question. Clifford was about to refute the accusation but Ingrid stopped him by holding his hands. Her eyes were pleading and ever so intense that Clifford could only stare at her and never uttered any single protest.

“This is my battle, let me face this.” She whispered. Clifford could only nod in response.

She stopped on her tracks; her eyes narrowed in annoyance and anger but her face makes a calm facade.

Everyone stood still; their cameras were ready to record not wanting to miss anything from this scenario. All of them were looking forward to what will happen.

“May I know your name please?” she looked at the woman who just mocked her child. The woman was shaken a bit by her fierce gawk but hid it by her haughty looks.

“Maya Holmes.” She said proudly.

“Maya Holmes, I bet you do have a child, right?” the woman gulped.

“Don’t include my child here.” She sneered.