The bathroom tile felt too cold against Eleanor’s knees as she stared at the pregnancy test in her shaking hand. The result was negative. She blinked hard, certain her vision was failing her, and reached for the second test she had taken that morning. It was also negative."No," she whispered. "No, no, no."Her phone sat on the marble counter, the reminder notification still glowing with a dull persistence: OBGYN appointment at 2:00 PM today. She had scheduled it two weeks ago, riding the wave of news that had secured Blake’s merger proposal and cemented her position as the future Mrs. Morrison.Eleanor’s fingers trembled as she opened her browser and typed with swiftness. She searched for false positive pregnancy tests, stress-induced hormonal imbalances, and chemical pregnancies. The medical terms blurred into a mess of Latin words and anxiety as panic tightened around her throat.She had shared the announcement with Blake three weeks ago. He had offered her that smile and kissed her

Chapter 33: The Morrison MethodSophia Castellano's office phone rang at nine-fifteen on Tuesday morning. The caller ID showed "Unknown Number," which usually meant either a telemarketer or a potential source who didn't want to be traced."Castellano," she answered, wedging the phone between her shoulder and ear while typing notes on her latest article about Adam Industries' Westbridge lawsuit."Ms. Castellano, my name is Vanessa Morrison," the woman's voice was calm. "I have information about Blake Morrison that you'll want to hear. Information that pertains to your recent coverage of Eleanor Adam."Sophia stopped typing. She'd been following the Eleanor-Blake relationship closely as part of her ongoing investigation into Julian Blackwood's situation. The sudden engagement, the merger announcement, and Blake's public presence in Eleanor's life all seemed timed perfectly."I'm listening," Sophia said."Not over the phone," Vanessa replied. "Meet me at the Greystone Cafe on Fifth Avenue

Victoria stood outside the heavy door of Raymond’s office on Thursday afternoon. The smartphone in her pocket felt like a physical weight against her thigh. She had played Eleanor’s panicked confession seventeen times since capturing it.Eleanor had always been the center of their parents' attention. She was the golden child, the one whose mistakes were seen as learning experiences while Victoria was relegated to the role of the decorative social media manager.She knocked twice on the solid wood."Come in," Raymond called out.Victoria stepped into the room. Raymond was buried behind a fortress of legal briefs and financial audits. Dark shadows were evident beneath his eyes, and his usually immaculate suit was wrinkled at the elbows. The pressure of the company’s slow downfall was eating him up."Victoria," he said, not looking up from a spreadsheet. "I am currently buried in…""You need to hear this," Victoria said, closing the door with a firm click. "It concerns Eleanor. It changes

The heavy iron gates of Riverside Cemetery opened at dawn. Julian was the first person to pass the gate. He held two bouquets of white roses. They were the type his mother used to keep on the dining table. The last time he stood there were weeks before his wedding with Eleanor three years ago.His parents were buried deep down under a big maple tree that predated the surrounding skyscrapers. The markers bore only names and dates. William Blackwood, Beloved Husband and Father. Sarah Blackwood, Beloved Wife and Mother.Julian stood motionless for several minutes before kneeling. He placed the flowers carefully at the top of the stone, his fingers lingering on the rough surface of the granite.A sudden wave of wind blew the branches above him, sending a shower of yellow leaves spinning to the ground. Julian closed his eyes.He opened his eyes and focused on his mother’s name. Sarah Blackwood had spent her life in classrooms, teaching children.He stopped, the memory of his mother’s quiet

Sophia Castellano’s article hit the National Business Report digital front page at exactly six o'clock on Wednesday morning. The digital stir turned into a surge wave within minutes. By the time the first hour passed, the article had become the primary subject of every financial news desk in the country. By nine, the ticker for Morrison Tech showed a staggering eighteen percent loss, a downward trajectory that showed no signs of stabilizing.The headline was a direct strike: The Morrison Method: How Blake Morrison Destroys Companies From Within.Eleanor discovered the article on her phone while she was still in bed. Sleep had been impossible following Blake’s cold departure the previous evening. As she scanned the opening paragraph, a heavy weight settled in her stomach.“Blake Morrison, the Chief Executive Officer of Morrison Tech and the fiance of Adam Industries heiress Eleanor Adam, has utilized a specific blueprint strategy across at least four separate corporations over the last