The next morning came far too quickly.
Lena moved through her routine on autopilot—shower, loose dress, flat shoes, prenatal vitamins—her body heavy, her mind louder than the city outside her window. The night before had stretched long, filled with whispered conversations, nervous laughter, and decisions that felt too large to belong to her life.
Inheritance. Marriage. Power. Secrets.
In the end, she and Lana had agreed on one thing above all else: silence.
No one at work would know. No one needed to know. Same for friends. Or even future partners, until the trust is gained.
So Lena did what she always did when her world was on fire—she showed up.
The office building looked the same as ever: glass, steel, and fluorescent certainty. She told herself that routine was armor. That if she
