PREGNANT.
It felt like being handed an impossible building commission, a fatal miscalculation. I sank to the floor, the cold bathroom tiles a shock against my spine.
Somewhere in the apartment, my phone buzzed.
A text from Chloe:
"Survived the gala? And what's the real story with you and Rhys?"
I flipped the phone facedown on the floor.
Tomorrow at the office, people would keep gossiping about the same petty rivalries. About who landed the new high-rise. About whispers in conference rooms.
But I would be walking around with a secret big enough to change the entire Chicago skyline.
I placed a hand on my still-flat stomach. There was nothing there. Just a silent, terrifying, foundational truth.
My career. My future. My baby.
