capital where Eleonora had once felt small and grateful to enter. Today she bypassed it entirely, her spouse

woman in a blood-stained trench coat over hospital linen, barefoot, IV bandage peeling from h

as she approached the corner office, the frosted glass door slightly ajar, light spilling

s voice carrying the particular frustration of long frien

thy? She engineered this. The pregnancy, the confrontation

ost a

an heir would have meant? Permanent connection. Perpetual negotiation. Isabella's return a

The plaster felt cool, solid, the only rea

ren's voice dropped, horri

" Jace's tone shifted, became administrative, the voice he used for quarterly reports and hostile takeovers. "Dr.

e fals

ed as infertile. Permanently. No future claims, no paternity suits, no emo

, Jace. That'

ng the door. "She wanted my attention. She has it now.

stal, some abstract representation of Franco Group's "forward momentum," and it teetere

from the

ce's voice, alert

agony, secondary to the fire in her abdomen. Each jarring step down sent a fresh wave of pain through her ravaged body. The stairwell door crashed open, swallowed her, released

ard her name, or thought she did, the syllables di

rete, and kept running into Manhattan's November night, the frigid air hitting her bare skin like a physical blow, into traffic and

ategy. Inferti

f capable of pain's lim