Cressie put on her robe and went down to the kitchen. The house was silent.

Mrs. Higgins, the housekeeper, was at the stove. She was frying bacon. The smell was heavenly.

"Good morning, Mrs. Higgins," Cressie said, reaching for a plate.

Higgins slapped her hand away with a spatula.

"Not for you," Higgins said. Her lip curled. "Mr. Banks requested a specific diet for you. Oatmeal. Water. No fats."

Cressie looked at the pile of crispy bacon, the fluffy scrambled eggs, the toast. "I'm pregnant. I need protein."

"Mr. Banks says you're gaining too much weight," Higgins said smugly. "He says it's embarrassing."

Cressie felt the blood rush to her ears. "He said that?"

"Explicitly." Higgins turned back to the stove. "Make your own oatmeal. The instant kind is in the pantry."

Cressie looked at the food. It was perfectly prepared. It was Ellsworth's favorite breakfast.

She looked at the trash can.

Something inside her snapped. It wasn't a loud snap. It was a quiet, decisive click.

She picked up the platter of bacon and eggs.

"What are you doing?" Higgins screeched.

Cressie walked to the bin and tilted the plate. The food slid off-bacon, eggs, toast-into the garbage, landing on top of coffee grounds.

"You crazy witch!" Higgins lunged, but it was too late.

"If I can't eat," Cressie said, her voice deadly calm, "then no one eats."

"What is going on here?"

Ellsworth stood in the doorway, dressed for work. He looked at the empty platter. He looked at the trash.

"She threw your breakfast away!" Higgins wailed, pointing a greasy finger at Cressie. "She's hysterical! I told her she had to stick to the diet you ordered, and she went crazy!"

Ellsworth looked at Cressie. "You wasted food? Do you know how childish that is?"

"I'm hungry, Ellsworth," Cressie said. "And your servant refused to feed me."

"Mrs. Higgins is not a servant, she is family," Ellsworth corrected. "And she's right. You are... swollen. You need to watch it."

He sided with the help. He sided with the woman who had just slapped her hand.

Cressie looked at him. Really looked at him.

"Apologize to Mrs. Higgins," Ellsworth said.

The room went still.

"No," Cressie said.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no." Cressie untied her robe and retied it, tighter. "I'm going out for breakfast. Put it on your black card."

She walked out of the kitchen.

"Cressie!" Ellsworth shouted after her.

She didn't stop. She didn't turn around.

She went to the garage, got into the town car, and told the driver to take her to a diner in Queens. A greasy spoon where no one knew her name.

She ordered pancakes, eggs, sausages, and a milkshake. She ate alone in a booth, tears streaming down her face as she chewed.

When she was done, she wiped her face with a paper napkin. She felt full. She felt strong.

She pulled out her laptop. She connected to the diner's spotty Wi-Fi.

She opened a new document.

Subject: Banks Capital - Discrepancies in Liquidity Ratios & Shell Company Audit.

She cracked her knuckles.

"You want to starve me?" she whispered to the blinking cursor. "I'll audit your cash flow until it bleeds."

---

"Can you hear me?" Evan's face appeared on the screen. He was in his office at Stanford, books piled high behind him.

"Loud and clear," Cressie said. She was sitting on the floor of her West Wing room, the door locked.

"I got the preliminary data you sent," Evan said. He sounded excited. "Cressie, this is gold. The way Banks Capital is leveraging these shell companies... it's legal, but barely. If the SEC saw this specifically the debt ratios..."

"They're over-leveraged," Cressie said, her eyes scanning the spreadsheet on her screen. "Ellsworth is betting on the merger to cover the liquidity gap. If the merger delays, the house of cards falls."

"Exactly. Look, I need you to dig deeper into the trust fund structure. That's the key to my research on dynastic wealth failures. I have set up the consulting contract. The payment will come through a blind LLC, registered in Delaware. It's perfectly legal, categorized as independent analysis fees."

"Perfect," Cressie said. "I need clean money. No trails back to the Winters estate."

"The wire is initiated. Your code name is Phoenix."

"Phoenix?"

"Rising from the ashes," Evan smiled. "Fitting, don't you think?"

A knock at the door made her jump.

"I have to go," she whispered. She slammed the laptop shut and shoved it under a pillow.

"Who is it?" she called out.

"It's me." Ellsworth.

She unlocked the door. He was standing there holding a flat cardboard box. The smell of pepperoni and cheap cheese wafted in.

"Higgins said she... overreacted this morning," Ellsworth mumbled. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "I brought you a pizza."

It was a peace offering. A lazy, thoughtless peace offering.

Cressie looked at the pizza. The grease was soaking through the bottom of the box.

"I hate pepperoni," she said. "And since the first trimester, the smell of cured meat makes me violently ill."

Ellsworth blinked. "Since when?"

"Since five months ago. You would know that if you ever asked me how the pregnancy was going. Or if you attended a single dinner at home instead of 'working late'."

Ellsworth looked at the box, then at her. He looked lost. "I... I didn't know."

"You don't know a lot of things," Cressie said.

She took the box from him. She walked to the window, opened it, and set the box on the sill outside. "Thanks. I'll let the birds eat it."

Ellsworth's face hardened. "You're being difficult on purpose."

"I'm being honest," Cressie said. "There's a difference."

She walked back to the bed and sat down. "Was there anything else? Or can I go back to... resting?"

Ellsworth lingered in the doorway. His eyes swept the room. They landed on the pillow where the laptop was hidden. A corner of silver metal was sticking out.

"What are you doing in here all day?" he asked suspiciously.

"Knitting," Cressie lied smoothly. "Booties for your heir."

Ellsworth scoffed. "Right."

He turned and left.

As soon as he was gone, Cressie pulled the laptop out. Her phone pinged. A notification from the bank.

Deposit Received: $15,000.00.

Sender: Helix Consulting Group LLC.

Cressie smiled. It was the first money she had earned in three years. It felt better than any allowance Ellsworth had ever given her.

She opened a food delivery app. She ordered a steak. A filet mignon, medium rare, with truffle mashed potatoes and asparagus.

When it arrived forty minutes later, she signed for it at the front door while Higgins watched, mouth agape.

"Put it on my tab," Cressie winked at the butler. "I'm paying for this one myself."

---

She took an Uber to the Banks Capital tower in Midtown.

The receptionist, a girl named Stacy who usually ignored her, looked up. "Mrs. Banks? I didn't know you were coming in."

"I won't be long," Cressie said, breezing past security.

She took the elevator down to the basement. To the Archives.

It was a windowless room that smelled of dust and toner. This was where they had put her. The Chief of Staff, demoted to "Archivist."

Hillary Farley was sitting on Cressie's desk, filing her nails. Hillary was twenty-four, ambitious, and cruel. She was Ellsworth's favorite "yes-girl."

"Well, well," Hillary smirked. "Look who decided to show up. We have three boxes of tax returns from 2018 to sort. Get to it."

Cressie didn't move toward the boxes. She reached into her bag and pulled out a white envelope.

She slapped it onto the desk.

"What's this?" Hillary asked, blowing on her nails.

"My resignation," Cressie said.

Hillary laughed. It was a high, grating sound. "Resignation? Honey, you can't resign. You're the boss's wife. This is your playpen."

"I'm an employee. I have a contract. And I'm terminating it."

Hillary picked up her coffee cup-a venti latte-and "accidentally" tipped it over.

Brown liquid flooded the desk, soaking the white envelope.

"Oops," Hillary grinned. "Clumsy me. Looks like you'll have to type it up again. If you remember how to use a computer."

The other girls in the office giggled. They weren't laughing because it was funny; they were laughing because they were afraid of Hillary, and by extension, Ellsworth.

Cressie looked at the brown stain spreading across the paper. She didn't get angry. She got cold.

She pulled out her phone. She tapped the screen, turning it around to face Hillary. The voice memo app was open, the waveform pulsing red.

"I've been recording since I walked in," Cressie said calmly. "Workplace harassment. Hostile environment. Destruction of personal property. It's all there."

Hillary's smile faltered. "What?"

"And since this is synced to my cloud instantly," Cressie added, "smashing the phone won't help you."

Hillary stood up, her face paling. "You can't do that."

"I just did. And unless you want this sent to HR-and to the Labor Board-you will sign my exit paperwork. Now."

"What is going on here?"

The voice boomed from the doorway. Ellsworth.

He was flanked by three board members. He was giving a tour. He looked at the spilled coffee, the wet letter, and Cressie holding her phone.

"Cressie?" He frowned. "Are you causing a scene?"

Hillary immediately dissolved into fake tears. "Mr. Banks! I tried to help her with the filing, and she got upset and started recording me!"

Ellsworth looked at Cressie. His eyes were disappointed. "Cressie. Put the phone away. In my office. Now."

Cressie looked at Hillary. She saw the triumph in the girl's eyes.

She looked at Ellsworth. She saw the assumption of guilt.

"Fine," Cressie said.

She walked past Hillary, leaning in close. "You better pray he fires me," she whispered. "Because if I stay, I'll audit you."

Hillary stopped crying instantly.

Cressie followed Ellsworth to the elevator. The ride up to the penthouse was silent.

"Why?" Ellsworth asked, staring at the numbers changing. "Why do you have to embarrass me?"

"I'm resigning," Cressie said. "I'm done being your archivist."

"You're quitting?" Ellsworth looked at her. "To do what? Stay home?"

"Sure," Cressie lied. "To stay home."

Ellsworth let out a breath. He actually looked relieved. "Good. It's better this way. You belong at home with the baby."

Cressie gripped her purse strap. You have no idea, she thought. I don't belong in your home. I belong in your boardroom. And one day, I'll buy it.

---