I was halfway through digging in my toiletries bag for ibuprofen when my hand stilled. I always packed pads out of habit, even when my period was still days away. But there weren’t any there.
I sat back on my heels on the cold bathroom tile, frowning as I mentally counted the days. My period was supposed to start tomorrow, but I didn’t feel any of the usual physical symptoms. No cramps, bloating, or breast tenderness. Only mood swings and anxiety that could be easily attributed to the wreck of my marriage. Same with the fatigue and trouble concentrating.
A dull ache pulsed behind my temples. I’d assumed it was from crying, terrible sleep, and the nonsense Margot pulled on social media. Now I wasn’t sure.
Maybe it was just stress. I’d had enough of it to throw every system in my body off kilter. But the timing tugged at something deep inside me.
I sank down on the edge of the bed, and the room tilted a little. The reality of the possibility I’d been avoiding swept through me with terrifying clarity.
I could be pregnant.
It was everything I’d wanted for the past six months, but this was the worst possible time. My marriage was hanging by a thread, and I was living out of a cheap hotel room.
My hands trembled in my lap as fear hit first. Hope followed too quickly, almost painful in its intensity. I wasn’t sure what a pregnancy would mean for Ethan and me. Not like this.
It was too early to test. My period wasn’t even late yet. Even if it were, my judgment was clouded enough as it was. I needed emotional stability that I didn’t currently have to face a possible pregnancy.
But the thought wouldn’t leave. I might be carrying Ethan’s baby. I didn’t know whether that made my heart swell or split clean in two.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes and breathed slowly, forcing myself not to spiral. I’d know if my period was late tomorrow. The thought steadied and terrified me in equal measure.
Pressing my hand to my belly, I reminded myself to take one breath at a time. That was all I could manage. I just had to survive the not-knowing until then.
14
ETHAN
Harper knocked lightly on my open office door just before ten, a stack of papers clutched to her chest and a look on her face that made my stomach clench.
“Do you have a minute?”
Nobody used that tone unless something was wrong. I gestured her in. “What did you find?”
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her before offering me the printout. “I’m not entirely sure how to explain this, so I’ll just show you.”
I took the papers from her and scanned the first sheet. It was a timestamp log—notifications generated and dismissed. Next to each one was the same notation.
User: SThompson
Setting the stack on my desk, I heaved a deep sigh.
Harper continued carefully, “These are reminders that were deleted outright. The system records who takes those actions. Each change to the alerts for your calendar came from SophieThompson’s workstation. and every one of them was tied to a personal appointment.”
I scanned the list for the one that mattered the most—my fertility appointment with Callie. The reminder had been deleted only minutes after it was generated.
“This wasn’t a glitch,” Harper added softly. “These were manual edits.”
I gripped the edge of the desk to ground myself, the paper crinkling in my other hand. I believed I’d screwed up because I’d been stretched thin and forgot. But I hadn’t just dropped the ball. Someone had made sure I did—and Callie was the one who paid the price.
Harper hesitated, then murmured, “I thought you should see this immediately.”
“You were right.” My voice came out scratchy. “Thank you, Harper. You did exceptionally well.”
She nodded nervously. “Please let me know if you need anything else.”
When the door closed behind her, I sank deeper into my chair, the report spread across my desk. Evidence of tampering I’d been too blind to see until now.
This was sabotage. And I’d handed Sophie access to the center of my life without ever questioning why things started to slip through the cracks.
