Jessica never used to hate her own heels before. Her shoes clacked way too loud on that polished convention center floor, like it was announcing her to every staring face in the crowd. The place was packed full of people who knew exactly where they should be. Tech executives in those sharp suits walking around like they owned the building. Investors trailed by assistants carrying tablets and folders. Reporters juggling recorders and gear trying not to bump into anyone. Everyone else seemed to fit right in there, you know.She didn’t.Her coat felt too heavy on her shoulders, her hands clammy inside her clutch. She tugged the lapel tighter as if it could hide her, but eyes still flickered her way—some in faint recognition, some in sharp judgment.That’s Jessica Benson. Wasn’t her family’s company sinking? Wasn’t she the one who let Michael Kane step in?The whispers stung more because she could imagine them being true.She forced herself forward, jaw tight, scanning the tall banners d

The air in the boardroom burnt coffee and frustration. Jessica Benson placed herself at the table’s end, her back straight, her sight fixed on the glowing digits on the other side of the screen.Her temples pulsed with each slide change — losses, debt, sinking stocks. A wall of numbers screaming failure.“Ms. Benson,” said Mr. Carter, the finance director, voice heavy with disapproval. “Three consecutive quarters in the red. Investors are already whispering about pulling out.”Jessica forced her pen to move across her notepad, though she couldn’t remember the last coherent number she’d written.“They’re whispering because you keep feeding them panic,” she shot back. “This is temporary. We’re restructuring.”“Restructuring?” another director barked a laugh. “We’re drowning. And you’re bailing water with a thimble.”The room murmured with agreement.Jessica’s nails dug into the wood of the table. “My father built this company. It doesn’t crumble because of a bad year.”A voice from t

The boardroom lights glared—too white, too sharp, like they were meant to expose her.Jessica sat at the head of the long table, her handbag pressed tight against her leg. Inside there was papers, phone and the clinic envelope. Sealed. Heavy. A secret burning a hole through the leather. She wanted to rip it up, set it on fire, make it disappear. Instead, her hand held harder around the strap, as if she could hold the truth down by force.Breathe. Smile. Pretend.Her reflection in the glossy table betrayed her. Skin pale. Lips cracked. She tugged her blazer sleeve down.“Ms. Benson.”Her CFO’s tone sliced through the hum of the projector. He gestured toward the screen, where red numbers bled across the graph. “Q2 doesn’t match your forecast. Investors are nervous.”A ripple of whispers moved through the room—pens tapping, heads leaning together.Jessica’s chest constricted. She flipped open her laptop, staring at charts that swam into one another. Focus. Just focus.“Our adjustments re

Jessica sat over her desk long after the office had emptied, the city’s neon skyline smeared across the glass behind her. Her reflection looked ghostly in the window—pale skin, hollow eyes, hair pinned back too tight.A woman fraying at the edges, pretending she wasn’t.Her laptop screen glared with spreadsheets, reports, and contracts stacked like walls around her. None of them mattered. None of them could block the thought gnawing at her ribs.The clinic envelope burned inside her drawer.She hadn’t been able to throw it away. She hadn’t been able to destroy it. It sat there, sealed again, accusing her with its silence.Pregnant. Adrian’s child.Jessica squeezed her eyes shut. A tremor ran through her fingers, so she shoved both hands beneath the desk, gripping her knees until her nails dug into skin. She couldn’t afford another collapse. Not here. Not now.Her phone buzzed.She jolted. For a moment she expected another message like before—Eat. The baby needs strength.But it was o

The ballroom sparkled beautifully—a golden aura draped, soft violin notes in the distance, champagne glasses clinking as servers skated through clusters of investors and C.E.O.s. But to Jessica, it felt suffocating.When she walked into the room, her heels clicked too loud against the marble floor, the hem of her black dress brushing past her ankles, she imagined every smile she put on felt fragile, and if she pressed too hard it might split, as all the rumors felt so heavy. She had carefully dressed for tonight—a simple dress, not extravagant or flashy, but still an elegant. A silk navy dress that molded her shape, she wore a silver chain around her neck. No rings, no flashy accessories. She wanted to project control, stability, power. But beneath the polish, her hands trembled when she reached for a glass of sparkling water.It wasn’t the investors that unnerved her. It was him.Michael was already here.She saw him across the room, tall and composed, the easy charmer in a tailo