"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.

---

When Ellsworth opened the door, Cressie saw her.

Jolie was sitting on the white leather sofa. She had her shoes off. She was drinking an espresso.

"Oh!" Jolie jumped up, smoothing her skirt. "Cressie! I didn't know you were... visiting."

Ellsworth walked to his desk and sat down, ignoring the awkwardness. He gestured for Cressie to sit.

She remained standing.

"Sign the resignation," Cressie said, placing a fresh copy (she had brought two) on his desk.

Ellsworth picked up a pen. "I'll have payroll add a severance package. Three months' salary."

"Keep it," Cressie said.

"Oh, don't be silly," Jolie chimed in. She walked over, her heels clicking on the glass floor. "Everyone needs a little spending money. Especially now that you're... expanding."

Jolie reached into her oversized Birkin bag. She pulled out a long, velvet box.

"Actually, I have a little present for you," Jolie beamed. "I felt so bad about the hospital. I wanted to make it up to you."

She opened the box. Inside lay a string of pearls. They were large, white, and lustrous. But Cressie recognized the clasp immediately. The silver rose. It was the Winters family necklace. Her mother's necklace. The one they had been forced to auction off three years ago to pay the first round of warehouse debts.

Jolie hadn't just bought a gift. She had hunted down a family heirloom, bought it with Banks money, and was now offering it back like charity.

"Vintage," Jolie said. "I found them at an estate sale. I thought they looked... quaint."

"Here, let me," Jolie said, reaching for Cressie's neck.

"No," Cressie said, stepping back.

"Oh, come on, don't be rude," Jolie pressed. She lunged forward, trying to clasp the necklace around Cressie's neck.

"I said no!" Cressie pushed her hand away.

It wasn't a hard push. But Jolie was wearing six-inch stilettos on a glass floor.

She stumbled. She flailed. She grabbed Cressie's arm to steady herself.

They both went down.

Cressie fell hard on her hip. Her side slammed into the corner of the oak desk.

"Ah!" A sharp cry escaped her lips. Pain radiated through her lower back, searing and hot.

Jolie landed on the carpet, the pearls scattering across the floor with a sound like hail.

"Jolie!" Ellsworth was around the desk in a second. He knelt beside Jolie. "Are you okay?"

"I... I think so," Jolie whimpered, clutching her ankle. "She pushed me, Ellsworth. She just pushed me!"

Ellsworth turned his head. His eyes were blazing. "Are you insane?" he shouted at Cressie. "She was giving you a gift!"

Cressie was still on the floor, holding her side. He hadn't asked if she was okay. He hadn't asked about the baby. The pain in her hip was throbbing, a dull ache that made her nauseous.

She looked at the pearls scattered on the floor. One had rolled next to her hand.

She picked it up. She rubbed it against her tooth. Smooth.

Real pearls feel gritty. The Winters pearls were real. These were smooth.

Cressie realized then the depth of the insult. Jolie hadn't bought the real necklace. She had bought a replica. A cheap copy to mock the loss of the original.

Cressie pulled herself up, using the chair for support. She winced, clutching her side.

"It's a fake," she said.

"What?" Ellsworth snapped, helping Jolie to the sofa.

"The necklace," Cressie said. She tossed the pearl onto his desk. It bounced with a hollow plastic sound. "It's a knockoff of my mother's necklace. High-end costume jewelry. Jolie didn't buy the heirloom, Ellsworth. She bought a prop to humiliate me."

Jolie froze. Her tears stopped instantly.

Ellsworth looked at the pearl. He looked at Jolie.

"Jolie?" he asked.

"I... I must have been scammed!" Jolie stammered, her face turning pink. "The dealer promised..."

"You don't buy from dealers," Cressie said, her voice ice cold. "You buy from Instagram ads."

She looked at Ellsworth. "You prioritize a woman who brings you fake pearls over the woman carrying your real child."

She grabbed the signed resignation form from the desk.

"Goodbye, Ellsworth."

She walked out. Her hip was throbbing, but her head was high. She needed a doctor, but she wouldn't let them see her limp.

In the elevator, she found one stray pearl caught in the cuff of her trousers. She took it out and dropped it into the trash can in the lobby.

Fake, she thought. Just like his love.

---