The digital marketing agency was a chaotic hive of creativity.
Gavin Finch, the creative director, was a tall, wiry man with a shaved head and a permanent scowl. He sat across from Davina in his cluttered office, firing questions at her like bullets.
"What's your take on the new TikTok algorithm?" he barked.
"It's favoring shorter, raw content," Davina replied, her hands folded in her lap. "Brands need to stop overproducing and start being authentic."
"Authenticity is a buzzword," Gavin scoffed. "Give me metrics."
"Metrics follow engagement," Davina shot back. "You can't have one without the other."
Gavin stared at her for a long moment, then broke into a grin. "You start now. Probationary period is three months. Pay is low, hours are long. Think you can handle it?"
"I can handle anything," Davina said firmly.
She spent the rest of the day setting up her workstation, learning the company's software, and meeting her new colleagues. It was exhausting, but it felt good to use her brain again.
At five o'clock, her phone rang. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered it anyway.
"Davina." Kash's voice was like a bucket of ice water.
She stepped outside into the busy street, pressing a hand to her ear to block out the noise. "What do you want?"
"We need to discuss the next steps," he said. "The natural conception plan is off the table."
Davina's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"
"I'm switching to IVF," Kash said flatly. "In vitro fertilization. It's faster and more efficient."
"IVF?" Davina repeated, her mind racing. "That's a huge medical procedure. You can't just decide that without asking me!"
"I just did," Kash replied, his tone brooking no argument. "I have no desire to sleep with you again. This way, we avoid any... unnecessary complications."
His words stung, even though she knew she should be relieved. No more forced intimacy. No more degrading encounters.
"Fine," she said, her voice tight. "When?"
"I've already made the arrangements. Dr. Helen Shaw at the Upper East Side Clinic. She's the best in the city."
"Of course she is," Davina muttered. "Let me guess, you had your boss pull strings again?"
"Derik has connections," Kash said dismissively. "The consultation is on Thursday. Don't be late."
"Wait," Davina said, her pride flaring up. "I'll pay for the consultation myself."
There was a pause on the line. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I don't want to owe you anything," she said. "Not a single cent more than I already do."
Kash let out a short, humorless laugh. "Suit yourself. Just don't let your pride get in the way of the schedule."
He hung up.
Davina stared at her phone, a headache forming behind her eyes. She had less than a thousand dollars in her bank account. IVF consultations cost hundreds, maybe thousands. But she didn't care. She would find a way.
She called the clinic and confirmed the appointment. Then she went back to work, burying herself in data and spreadsheets until her vision blurred.
That night, in Kash's apartment, he sat at his desk, flipping through a folder. His assistant had just delivered the latest report on Davina's credit card activity.
He scanned the list of transactions. A gas station. A grocery store. A payment to the hospital.
He paused, his finger tracing the line. New York Presbyterian Hospital - $50,000.
He frowned. She had actually paid the hospital. She hadn't bought clothes or jewelry. She had paid for her niece's surgery.
For a brief second, doubt flickered in his mind. Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe she really needed the money for a medical emergency.
But then he shook his head, dismissing the thought. It was a classic con artist move. Establish a sympathetic backstory to lower the mark's defenses. She was just playing the long game.
He closed the folder, his expression hardening. He wouldn't fall for it.
Across town, in a sleek office building, Derik Blackwell sat in the dark.
He was staring at a photograph on his computer screen. It was a candid shot of Elana Maddox, taken at a charity event years ago. She was laughing, her hair catching the light.
He reached out, his fingertips brushing the screen. He remembered the first time he had seen her, a scared sixteen-year-old girl at a foster care fundraiser. He had been a young man then, just starting out in the family business. But the image of her had never left him.
He had watched her from afar for years. Protected her from the shadows. And now, finally, he had an excuse to get closer.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number. "I want a full update on Daisy Maddox's condition. And find out everything you can about her father, Mitch."
He hung up, a slow smile spreading across his face. He wasn't doing this for Kash. He was doing this for her.
