Vivian arrived at Sterling Corp HQ at 8:45 AM. Her access badge took two tries to work. The red light blinked at her, a warning. When it finally turned green, the receptionist, a girl Vivian had bought coffee for a dozen times, looked down at her desk, avoiding eye contact.

The grapevine was faster than fiber optics. Everyone knew.

Vivian walked to the PR department. The usually buzzing floor went silent as she passed. Heads ducked behind monitors. Whispers trailed in her wake like smoke.

She entered the main conference room.

Olivia Lane sat at the head of the table. She was wearing a red dress, aggressive and bright.

Behind her, on the projection screen, were giant digital posters. They were mock-ups of the new campaign.

Serena Chase's face was everywhere.

We're rebranding, Olivia said. She didn't say hello. She didn't offer Vivian a seat.

Lily Evans is out, Olivia continued. "Serena is in."

Vivian frowned. Lily Evans was the current face of the brand. She was a sweet girl, a rising model who had just signed a two-year contract. Vivian had negotiated that contract herself.

Lily has a contract, Vivian said. "You can't just fire her."

Olivia smirked. She tapped her pen on the table. "Julian authorized the breach fee. He wants the slate wiped clean."

Vivian felt a headache blooming behind her eyes. The waste of money. The cruelty to Lily. It was all for Serena.

This is unprofessional, Olivia, Vivian said, keeping her voice steady.

Olivia leaned forward. Her eyes glittered with malice.

We're streamlining, Olivia said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Cutting the dead weight. Honestly, Vivian, with your... background, it's a miracle you lasted this long in a company of this caliber. Budget cuts are tough, but we can't keep supporting charity cases just because of old family debts."

Vivian's blood ran cold.

Olivia was talking about her father. Her adoptive father, Miller. He had been a good man, a hardworking man who died of a heart attack trying to pay for her tuition before the Sterlings stepped in. He wasn't a "charity case." He was a victim of the very capitalist machine Sterling Corp represented.

Take that back, Vivian said quietly. Her hands were shaking.

Olivia laughed. It was a high, ugly sound. "Or what? You'll tell your ex-husband? Oh wait, he doesn't care about you anymore. He's finally with a woman of his own class."

Vivian snapped.

The rage that had been building for days-the pregnancy, the divorce, the lies, the bracelet-it all focused into a single point.

She walked up to Olivia.

She didn't think. She swung her hand.

Slap.

The sound echoed in the glass-walled room. It was loud, crisp, violent.

Olivia's head snapped to the side. She screamed, holding her cheek. It was a fake, dramatic scream, but the red mark on her face was real.

I am going to sue you! Olivia shrieked.

The glass door to the conference room flew open.

Julian stood there.

He took in the scene instantly. Olivia sobbing theatrically. Vivian standing there, chest heaving, her hand still raised.

He didn't ask what happened. He didn't look at Vivian's tear-filled eyes. He looked at Olivia.

Vivian, come to my office, he barked.

Now, he added.

Vivian lowered her hand. Her palm stung. She felt sick.

She walked past him. She held her head high, but her legs felt like jelly.

Behind her, she heard Olivia sniffle. "She's unstable, Julian. I was just discussing the budget..."

Vivian walked into the hallway. She didn't look back. She knew who he would believe.

Julian slammed his office door shut. The heavy mahogany vibrated with the force of it.

He loosened his tie, furious. He paced behind his desk.

You assaulted an employee, he accused. His voice was low, dangerous.

She insulted my father, Vivian defended herself. Her voice shook, but she stood her ground.

Julian waved his hand dismissively. "Words, Vivian. You responded with violence."

She called me a charity case. She mocked his death.

Julian stopped pacing. He looked at her. There was no sympathy in his eyes, only annoyance.

Olivia is vital to Serena's launch, he said. "She is the marketing lead. You cannot go around slapping people because your feelings are hurt."

My feelings? Vivian laughed incredulously. "This isn't about feelings. It's about respect."

You are damaging the company image, Julian cut her off. "We are in a delicate transition period."

Vivian felt the injustice burning in her throat like acid. He cared more about the campaign than her dignity.

You need to apologize to her, Julian commanded.

No, Vivian said firmly.

Julian stepped closer. He used his height to intimidate her, looming over her.

Do it, or the divorce settlement changes, he said.

Vivian looked at him with disbelief. He was blackmailing her.

I can tie the assets up in court for years, Vivian. You'll get nothing.

Vivian looked at the man she had married. He was a monster. A pragmatic, cold-blooded monster.

She decided to test him. One last time. She needed to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Julian, does anything about us matter? she asked.

He frowned, impatient.

What if... Vivian placed a hand on her stomach. "What if I were pregnant?"

Julian froze.

The room went silent. The air conditioning hummed.

His eyes narrowed. He scanned her face, looking for a lie. His gaze dropped to her stomach, then back to her eyes.

Are you? he asked sharply.

Vivian held her breath.

Hypothetically, she whispered.

Julian let out a harsh laugh. He ran a hand down his face.

Don't play games, Vivian.

He walked back to his desk and sat down, putting a barrier between them.

The contract is clear. Any pregnancy would be a disaster right now.

Vivian felt her heart stop.

And frankly, he looked her in the eye, his gaze steady and cold. "I would never want a child to be born into this mess. If you were pregnant, I would expect you to handle it. Or I would handle it for you. No child of mine will be raised in a broken home."

There it was. The truth.

Handle it. That meant erase it.

Vivian felt something inside her shatter. It wasn't her heart-that was already broken. It was her hope. The last thread that connected her to him snapped.

She reached into her pocket and gripped the bottle of pills. She needed to protect this baby. From him.

I understand, she said. Her voice was dead. Flat.

I'll apologize.

Good, Julian said without looking up. "Make it convincing."

Vivian turned. She walked to the door. She hid the single tear that escaped her eye.

She walked out to find Olivia. She apologized mechanically, her words hollow. Olivia smirked, triumphant.

Vivian walked to the bathroom. She locked herself in a stall.

She took the bottle of prenatal vitamins out of her purse. She looked at the label she had handwritten earlier: "Stress Relief / Ulcer."

She looked at the bottle.

He would never know. She would die before she let him "handle" her child.

The next morning, a company-wide email went out.

Subject: New Brand Direction - Serena Chase.

Vivian read it on her phone. She had been assigned as the "liaison" for the transition. It was a punishment. Julian wanted to rub her nose in it, or maybe he just thought she was the only one efficient enough to handle the logistics.

She entered the boardroom for the strategy meeting at 10:00 AM.

The smell hit her immediately. Stale coffee. Old donuts. And over it all, a heavy, cloying scent of lilies.

Her stomach lurched violently.

She swallowed hard, grabbing a bottle of ice water from the center of the table. She sat in the corner, as far away from the food as possible.

Julian entered with Serena.

Serena was glowing. She wore a white dress that looked suspiciously bridal. She acted the gracious winner, smiling at everyone.

Vivian, darling, so good of you to help, Serena cooed, placing a hand on Vivian's shoulder.

Vivian nodded, afraid to open her mouth. If she spoke, she might vomit.

The Product Manager stood up. "We have the new perfume samples for the 'Serena' line."

He passed around test strips.

One scent was heavy musk and vanilla. It was Serena's signature scent.

Serena picked one up and waved it enthusiastically. "Oh, Jay, smell this! It's divine." She thrust the scented strip toward Julian, but in her excitement, she waved it right under Vivian's nose as she turned.

The smell was thick, oily, suffocating.

It triggered her gag reflex instantly.

Vivian clamped a hand over her mouth. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Excuse me, she mumbled.

She rushed out of the room. She ran down the hallway.

She barely made it to the executive washroom. She kicked open a stall and fell to her knees.

She vomited until there was nothing left but acid.

She sat on the cold tile floor, shaking. She flushed the toilet and rinsed her mouth at the sink.

She heard footsteps.

Vivian?

It was Julian. He was standing at the entrance of the bathroom. The door was propped open.

He frowned. He looked at her pale face, the sweat on her forehead. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Are you sick? he asked.

Vivian gripped the porcelain sink. Her knuckles were white. She knew he was remembering her "hypothetical" question from yesterday.

It's stress, she said. Her voice was raspy. "An ulcer. My doctor gave me medication for it."

Julian didn't look convinced. He stared at her.

Vivian reached into her pocket. Her hand trembled as she pulled out the bottle she had labeled "Ulcer."

She shook a pill into her hand-a prenatal vitamin that looked like a generic capsule-and swallowed it dry, right in front of him.

She held up the bottle so he could see the handwritten label.

See? she rasped. "Just an ulcer."

Julian read the label. His shoulders relaxed slightly. The suspicion faded from his eyes.

You always had a weak stomach, he said, dismissing the thought.

He didn't step closer. He didn't offer to help.

Take some time off after the launch, he said. He sounded almost kind. Or maybe he just didn't want a sick employee infecting the workspace.

Vivian nodded, not turning around to face him.

He left.

Vivian looked in the mirror. She looked ghostly. There were dark circles under her eyes.

She leaned against the sink, breathing hard. That was too close.

She returned to the meeting.

As she sat down, her phone lit up.

It was a text from an unknown number.

This is Mark, Lily Evans' agent. We need to talk.

Vivian looked at Julian, who was laughing at something Serena said.

She texted back: "Meet me at the coffee shop downstairs in 10. I'll help you sue us."