Fiona woke to the soft gray light of an overcast Aurelia Bay dawn creeping through her curtains. Her hand instinctively went to her lower belly still flat, still the sa, but carrying a secret that made every breath feel heavier.
She exhaled slowly, forcing calm. No spiraling today. Just forward motion.
She showered, dressed in loose black trousers and a soft cream blouse that skimd her body without clinging. No makeup beyond a swipe of tinted balm. No pretense. Just her, the truth, and the first real step.
The clinic in Lunara Cove was quiet and kind-slling lavender diffuser, soft instruntal music, magazines about pregnancy glow and newborn sleep. Fiona sat in the waiting room with her hands folded, ignoring the nervous tap of her foot against the tile.
"Fiona Flare?" The nurse smiled gently.
She followed her back.
Dr. Elena Ruiz was exactly what Fiona needed: warm, direct, no-nonsense, dark curls pinned loosely, eyes that saw everything without judging.
"Tell what brought you in," she said after the vitals.
Fiona swallowed. "Two positive ho tests the day before yesterday. I... wasn’t planning this. The father was a one-night thing. No nas, no contact. I’m scared, but I want to keep it."
Dr. Ruiz nodded, calm as still water. "That’s a lot to carry alone. Let’s confirm everything first, then we talk about what you need moving forward. You’re not the first woman to walk in here like this, and you won’t be the last."
Blood draw. Urine sample. Then the ultrasound.
Cool gel on her stomach. The wand gliding slowly.
"There," Dr. Ruiz said softly, pointing to the screen. "That little flickering dot? That’s the heartbeat. Roughly eight weeks. Everything looks strong so far."
Fiona stared, throat tight. The pulse was fast, insistent, alive.
"It’s really in there," she whispered.
"It is." Dr. Ruiz smiled. "We’ll do more detailed scans later, but right now you’re off to a healthy start. I’m prescribing prenatals, folic acid, and we’ll talk nutrition, rest, nausea managent. Any questions?"
Fiona touched the screen lightly. "Just... how do I do this? Alone?"
"One day at a ti," Dr. Ruiz said. "You’re already doing the hardest part showing up. The rest we figure out together."
Back in her apartnt, Fiona sat on the balcony with ginger tea (the doctor swore by it for the nausea) and her laptop open. The list from the appointnt sat beside her: small frequent als, no alcohol, light exercise, stress reduction.
Money wouldn’t stretch forever. She’d walked out of Glowara in a blaze after Marcus’s betrayal no severance, no reference, just fury and a slamd door. Her savings would buy her a few months, maybe. After that? She needed inco. Stability. A future for the tiny heartbeat growing inside her.
She opened job boards. Marketing roles. Beauty industry preferred she knew how to sell radiance, even when her own felt dim.
One listing jumped out.
**Voss Éclat – Senior Marketing Strategist**
Obsidian Spire Headquarters, Aurelia Bay
Imdiate start. Competitive package. High-energy environnt. Submit portfolio cover letter.
Voss Éclat. The biggest na in beauty in the city. Glossy ads, luxury skincare, perfus that cost more than her rent. She’d always admired their campaigns from afar never dread of applying because they were impossible to crack without insider connections.
But she was different now. Desperate. Determined. Carrying a child who deserved the best she could give.
She updated her resu, attached her strongest Glowara campaigns (pre-Marcus ss), and wrote a cover letter that burned with everything she had left:
*I don’t chase jobs. I chase impact. Give a chance to show Voss Éclat how to own the next decade of beauty not just sell it, but redefine it. My ideas don’t whisper. They roar.*
She hit send before doubt could creep in.
Then she closed the laptop, leaned back in her chair, and placed both hands on her stomach.
"Hey, little one," she whispered to the empty balcony and the sparkling cove beyond. "Mommy just threw her hat in the ring for the biggest ga in town. We’re going to build sothing beautiful. For both of us."
She had no idea the company she’d just applied to was ruled by the man whose touch still haunted her skin.
No idea that Martin Mole CEO, enigma, the stranger who’d claid her body in a velvet suite was already reviewing applications that morning.
And when her portfolio landed in his inbox?
When he saw the na Fiona Flare... the photo... those hazel eyes that had looked up at him in the dark while she ca apart beneath him?
He would know.
But she wouldn’t.
Not yet.
For now, the secret stayed perfectly hidden—wrapped in silk sheets of mory, waiting for the mont fate decided to pull the thread.
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