Elena
The Weller project code appears in my inbox less than four minutes after I open my laptop.
I close it again.
The subject line is restricted, but the status confirms what I already know: I have been removed from Project Northstar while legal reviews my disclosure. The preliminary recommendation built from my model remains active without me.
I read the two-sentence notice once. It confirms my removal and says counsel will determine whether further safeguards are required. There is nothing I need to do and no information I am authorized to access.
So much for checking one email.
The cabin goes quiet around me, other than the low hum of the heater and wind sighing through the pines outside the kitchen windows. I arrived late last night, dropped my bags beside the bedroom door, and slept for less than three hours before giving up and making coffee.
Now the late-morning sun is bright across the mountains, my coffee is cold, and I’ve processed absolutely nothing.
I’m supposed to be on personal leave. Maya has everything she needs to handle an emergency, my active projects have been reassigned, and no one at Rowe Holdings expects me to work from a cabin outside Telluride.
That hasn’t stopped me from reaching for my laptop five times.
I carry my mug to the coffeemaker, pour out the cold coffee, and start another cup. The smell fills the kitchen while I stand there with my arms folded over my stomach.
There’s no physical change yet. No proof anyone else could see. I press my hand against the soft cotton of my sweater.
Pregnant.
I’ve known since yesterday morning, but I still can’t make the word settle into anything manageable. Daniel is the CEO of the company Rowe Holdings may acquire, Dominic doesn’t know, and I’m carrying his child.
He doesn’t know that either.
I tried three times to tell him before I left Chicago. Once through a message I deleted. Once when I reached his office and turned my approach into a wave. Once when I stood outside his open door while he was on the phone.
Three chances, and I walked away from every one.
The coffeemaker beeps. I fill my mug and take it to the window.
I rented this place because the listing promised privacy and quiet. I told myself two weeks away would give me enough room to think without seeing Dominic through the glass walls of his office or waiting for Daniel’s name to land in another confidential file.
Except Dominic isn’t contained inside Rowe Holdings.
He’s in the coffee I keep letting go cold because he always replaced mine before I noticed. He’s in the notebook on the kitchen table because I remember the one he carried to every fertility appointment. He’s in the empty space beside me because I know exactly how his body feels there.
Leaving Chicago didn’t leave any of that behind. I have brought my love for him and all the fear attached to it.
My phone starts ringing on the counter.
Olivia.
I let it ring until the screen goes dark.
A text arrives almost immediately.
Olivia: Answer the next call or I’m going to assume you joined a mountain cult.
The phone rings again.
I pick it up. “I’m not in a cult.”
“That’s exactly what they’d teach you to say.”
I let out a weak laugh.
Olivia’s voice changes. “There you are.”
I close my eyes.
She’s been one of my closest friends since college. She met Daniel while I was still with him, watched me rearrange my entire life around his, and stayed even after I refused to admit what he’d done. She knows what it cost me to rebuild everything afterward.
She’ll also know exactly why I’m hiding in Colorado.
My voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You took two weeks off and flew across the country alone. I’d call it fleeing, but you probably created an itinerary.”
“I didn’t create an itinerary.”
“Wow. You’re worse than I thought.”
I turn from the window and sit at the kitchen table. The wood feels solid beneath my palms. I take a breath, my throat tight, and say the words I haven’t said to anyone. “I’m pregnant.”
Silence.
Then, “Okay.”
There’s no panic in the word. No accusation. She gives me a second to breathe, and I need it more than I want to admit.
I let out the breath I was holding. “I took the test Thursday morning.”
“Does Dominic know?”
“No.”
“Elena.”
My name, a single weighted word that lands like a stone. My eyes sting. “I tried.”
“How?”
“I wrote a message, deleted it, and went to his office.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. He looked up and saw me coming, and I waved like I’d only happened to be walking past.”
“That isn’t trying.”
The words are a quiet judgment, and they’re right. “I know.” The admission burns in my throat.
“Was that the only time?”
“No. I stopped outside his office later. He was on the phone, but I could’ve waited.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“So that’s two.”
“There was another message.”
“Which you also deleted?”
“Yes.”
Olivia exhales. “Okay. What else happened?”
I rub my thumb along the edge of the table, the grain a rough distraction. There’s no easy way to say the rest of it. “Daniel is back.”
“What do you mean, back?”
“Rowe Holdings has been evaluating an acquisition through a confidential intermediary. The target’s identity was restricted until Thursday’s call.”
“And the target belongs to Daniel.”
“Weller Strategic Holdings.”
“Jesus, Elena.”
“I didn’t know. I’d already completed most of the financial analysis by the time the intermediary released the company name.”
“Did Daniel know you were involved?”
“I don’t know. He recognized me when the call started.”
“What did he say?”
“He called me Ms. Vale and told me it had been a long time.”
“And you?”
“I told him to focus on the financial projections.”
A short, disbelieving sound comes through the phone. I flinch. “Of course you did.”
“What was I supposed to do? Walk out in the middle of a restricted diligence call?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. You’re allowed to have a reaction, Elena. The man who threatened your career just showed up on your screen.”
“I disclosed the conflict to legal immediately afterward. They removed me from the acquisition.”
“Does Dominic know why?”
“Legal has the disclosure, but the details are privileged. He might not know it’s Daniel until the package reaches him Monday.”
“You didn’t tell him.”
“No.”
“You had three chances to tell him you’re pregnant, at least two chances to tell him Daniel had reappeared, and then you booked a cabin.”
The neat, damning summary of my week sends a tight knot through my stomach. “I needed time.”
“You needed to decide what happens next before anyone else could affect the decision.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“It’s pretty accurate.”
I stand and dump my untouched coffee in the sink, the lukewarm liquid splashing against the steel. “I know how to make decisions.”
“Yes, you do. You’re brilliant at taking all the available information and building the safest possible plan.”
“That’s generally considered a strength.”
“At work? Absolutely. With Dominic?” She pauses. “Deciding feels safer to you than wanting.”
I grip the counter. The words land like a punch, too accurate to ignore. So I reach for the one want I have a plan for. “I want a child,” I say.
“I know.”
“I wanted this pregnancy.”
“I know that too.”
“And Dominic, his voice quiet, had ended the agreement.”
“Did he end his feelings for you?”
“No.”
“Did you end yours?”
I stare through the window at the trees, at the empty space where the sky meets the ridge. Saying it out loud feels like stepping off a cliff.
“No.”
Olivia’s voice softens. “Then maybe stop trying to plan everyone’s future before you even let yourself want something.”
After we hang up, I leave my laptop closed.
It’s the most productive thing I do all day.
Sunday morning, I download a trail map, check the weather twice, and pack enough water for a short hike and a minor emergency.
Apparently, even walking requires a contingency plan.
The trail climbs through tall pines before curving toward an open ridge. Cold air stings my cheeks, but the sun is warm across my shoulders. I concentrate on each step, the scrape of my boots against the dirt, and the steady pull in my legs.
For nearly ten minutes, the rhythm of walking keeps my thoughts quiet.
Then I hear Olivia again.
Deciding feels safer to you than wanting.
I’ve always trusted my ability to assess risk. It made me good at my job long before I had the title to prove it. It also helped me rebuild after Daniel.
He entered my life as my mentor, then became my boss and my partner.
He had experience, connections, and authority I didn’t possess yet.
He offered guidance until I stopped noticing how often his advice required me to change something: my schedule, my goals, the people I trusted, and the opportunities I accepted.
Each compromise sounded reasonable while I was making it. By the time I understood how much of my life depended on his approval, he’d placed himself inside every important decision.
Then he ended our relationship and threatened the career he’d taught me to believe I owed him.
I learned from it. Depending on another person is dangerous. Wanting someone gives him leverage. Love makes it possible for him to hurt me.
Those rules kept me safe for years because I never questioned the person who taught them to me.
The trail grows steeper, so I slow my pace, watching for loose rocks beneath my boots.
Daniel wasn’t dangerous because I loved him. He was dangerous because he wanted my dependence and used it against me.
I stop in the middle of the trail.
It shouldn’t have taken me this long to separate those two things. I blamed love because admitting I trusted the wrong man meant accepting that no system could protect me from every bad choice.
Dominic has had professional authority over me for four years. He has never used it to diminish me. When he offered to become the father of my child, he insisted on independent attorneys, workplace protections, and terms designed to keep his position from limiting my choices.