Elena #3
I check the email I sent her and find the problem immediately. I attached last week’s restricted draft instead of the current approved handoff. No one else received it, and the permissions held, but I never send the wrong version.
I replace the link, verify the recipient list twice, and call Maya to confirm she can open it.
“Got it.” Her voice softens slightly. “Everything okay?”
The honest answer is no. The word sits on my tongue, heavy and impossible.
I’m not incompetent. I caught the error before it affected anyone, and I could probably force myself through the rest of today without making another. That isn’t the standard I expect from anyone whose judgment others rely on.
I close the grid without saving it. A control system can’t make me ready to tell Dominic, undo Daniel’s return, or guarantee what comes after either truth. Staying at my desk while I pretend otherwise isn’t responsible.
I open a blank email to Dominic.
Elena (email): I need to take two weeks of personal time, effective immediately. I’ll complete the necessary handoff before I leave and provide Maya with my emergency-contact information.
His answer arrives less than a minute after I send it.
Dominic (email): Approved. Take whatever time you need.
No questions. No demand that I come back to his office. He gives me exactly what I request, even when what I request keeps hurting both of us.
I close the email.
I transfer my current assignments before the end of the day.
Legal removes me from Project Northstar pending its review, and I leave instructions for every unrelated deadline that will fall during my absence.
I’m taking personal leave, not pretending I can work remotely while I hide from everyone who might ask an uncomfortable question.
Maya watches from my doorway as I shut down my laptop.
“You’re leaving now?”
“Yes.”
“For the day?”
“For two weeks.”
Her face changes. “Where are you going?”
“Colorado. I’m booking everything tonight.”
She leans against the doorframe. “You requested leave before you had somewhere to go?”
“I knew I needed to leave before I knew where.”
“That sounds very unlike you.”
“It feels unlike me.”
She comes farther into the office. “Are you sick?”
The question lands close enough that I grip the charger in my hand, its hard plastic edges digging into my palm. “I’m not ready to tell you everything. I’m sorry.”
Maya looks at me for a long moment, then nods. “What do you need?”
I have to look down at the charger before I answer.
“Please reschedule anything that isn’t already covered. I’ll send you my flight information, the address where I’m staying, and an emergency number once I have them.”
“Does Dominic get the address?”
“No.” The word is a slammed door. “If that changes, I’ll tell you.”
“All right.”
She steps forward and hugs me. My body goes stiff from surprise, then I hold her back.
She pulls back but keeps her hands on my arms. “Call me.”
“I will.”
“Even if you aren’t ready to explain.”
My throat aches. “Okay.”
I leave Rowe Holdings without looking toward Dominic’s office again.
At home, I open my laptop on the kitchen counter and search for cabins outside Telluride. I find a cabin far enough from town for privacy, with an immediate two-week opening. I book it, reserve a Friday morning flight to Colorado, and arrange a car from the airport.
The obstetrics search comes next.
I have no reason to believe anything is wrong, but I’m leaving Chicago during the earliest days of a pregnancy I spent months trying to achieve.
I find a practice that serves the Telluride area, read its guidance for new patients, and save the office and after-hours numbers.
Knowing who to contact if I need care quiets one small part of my brain.
Once the cabin address, flight details, and local practice number are organized, I send Maya the necessary emergency information and flag the email as private.
Then I call Olivia.
My close college friend answers on the second ring. “Hey. How did the mystery acquisition call go?”
I stare at the open suitcase on my bed, the chaos of my life spilling out. My voice is flat, stripped of all emotion. “Daniel is the CEO.”
Silence.
“Oh, Elena.”
“Weller Strategic Holdings. I didn’t know until the identity-release call.”
“Was he there?”
“On video.”
“Does Dominic know?”
“No.”
Olivia exhales. “What else happened?”
She knows me too well. I turn toward the bathroom, where the test is still hidden behind the towels.
“I’m pregnant.”
Her breath catches. “You’re sure?”
“I took a test this morning. It was positive before the timer finished.”
“Oh my God. You’re having a baby.”
Tears slide down my face. “I’m having a baby.”
“And you haven’t told Dominic.”
“No.”
“How many times did you try?”
“Three.”
“Elena.”
“I know.” I sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight.
“I can’t do this in Chicago right now. I can’t see Dominic through those glass walls every day and pretend I don’t love him.
I can’t sit across from Daniel and act like five years ago didn’t change me.
And I can’t think clearly about the baby while I’m trying to survive both of them in the same building. ”
“Where are you going?”
“A cabin outside Telluride.”
“You know you still have to tell Dominic.”
“I will.”
“When?”
I close my eyes, the exhaustion of the day pressing down on me. “I don’t know.”
Olivia lets the silence sit between us.
“Call me when you land,” she says, and it’s not a suggestion.
“I promise.”
Her words land like a punch, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying again as she continues, “And if you get scared tonight, call me then too. You don’t have to handle everything alone just because you’re capable of it.”
After we hang up, I retrieve the test from behind the towels and place it in the zippered pocket of my suitcase. Clothes follow, then toiletries, chargers, and the crackers Maya gave me.
I tell myself leaving is a deliberate choice. Daniel is back. Dominic needs the distance he asked for. The baby needs me calm enough to make careful decisions. Two weeks in Colorado will give me room to separate what I want from what I fear.
All of those reasons are true, but none of them changes what I’m avoiding.
Before sunrise, I zip my suitcase and look around the condo Dominic once called a waiting room.
I understand what he meant now.
A car pulls up outside my building. I turn off the lights, close the door behind me, and carry our child toward the elevator, the silence of the apartment pressing in on me as I leave him behind.