LOGINChris's POV
I couldn't believe she had resigned.The letter was still sitting on my desk. I had read it three times already, yet the words refused to make sense. Ayesha wasn't the type to quit. In four years, she had never once threatened to leave the company. She came to work even when she was sick. She stayed late whenever a project demanded it. She followed rules so carefully that sometimes it annoyed me.
Yet she had walked away without even speaking to me. More than anything, I felt guilty. I pushed her to do it. I loosened my tie a bit. The air was getting really stuffy. So that was the statement she was trying to make when she didn't pick up her phone.
I exhaled heavily. Before I could think any further, my gaze drifted to the pregnancy report still lying on my desk.
The report.
The reason this entire mess had exploded in the first place. I picked up my phone and called Gemma.
"Meet me at eleven. We're going to see the doctor."
"Alright, sir. Give me a minute," she answered in a fruity voice.
I put down the phone and clenched my fists. Something about this situation still didn't sit right with me. The hotel incident, the missing memories and the pregnancy.
None of it felt normal.
Yet every piece of evidence seemed to point back at me. By eleven, I was waiting in my car outside the office building. I had asked my driver to take the day off. This was something I wanted to handle personally.
A few minutes later, Gemma came out through a different exit. She opened the passenger door and sat down beside me as if she belonged there. Then she pulled out a compact mirror and started touching up her makeup.
I looked away.
"So, Chris," she said after a while. "You're doubting me?"
I remained silent.
"You don't believe this baby is yours?"
"We're about to find out."
She laughed lightly."That's not an answer."
I turned to look at her. "If it turns out you've been lying to me, I'll make sure you regret it."
Her smile disappeared.
"And don't speak informally to me. Remember, we were never a thing. Don't give yourself false hope."
She pouted but didn't argue. The rest of the drive passed in silence. Azul Hospital belonged to my company. That was exactly why I chose it. I trusted the doctors there. If there was any truth to be found, I would find it there.
We arrived and were directed into a consultation room. The doctor was a middle-aged woman with dark hair tied neatly behind her head.
Mrs. Vivian.
She had known my family for years. The moment she saw me, she smiled.
"Well, look who we have here. Christopher Azul."
"It's good to see you, Mrs. Vivian."
She folded her arms. "You haven't visited in ages."
"I've been busy."
"You always say that."
I smiled faintly. Then her eyes shifted toward Gemma. The smile on her face changed.
"Your wife?"
"No." The answer came out immediately. "She's Gemma Arterton. An employee."
"Oh." Mrs. Vivian nodded.
Fortunately, she didn't ask further questions. Instead, she focused on her work. After reviewing the previous report, she suggested running another examination to confirm everything properly. Gemma followed her into another room.
I stayed behind. The waiting period felt longer than it actually was. I stared at the wall clock, at the floor. Then at my phone.
I almost called Ayesha again. But I stopped myself. What would I even say?
Sorry I publicly rejected your proposal? Sorry another woman claims she's carrying my child? Or sorry I shouted at you afterward?
None of those sounded sufficient. Eventually, the door opened. Gemma and Mrs. Vivian returned. My stomach tightened. Mrs. Vivian sat across from me.
"The pregnancy is confirmed."
The words landed heavily.I closed my eyes briefly. So there was no mistake. Gemma was pregnant. When I opened my eyes again, she looked almost triumphant.
"I told you."
I ignored her. "How far along?" I asked.
Mrs. Vivian looked at the file. "A little over two months."
Two months? The timeline matched. That fact alone made me feel worse. I thanked the doctor and collected the documents. The ride back was quiet. My thoughts wouldn't stop racing. If the child was mine, then this wasn't just a personal problem anymore. It affected my company, my reputation, my future and Ayesha. Especially Ayesha.
When we left the hospital, Gemma suddenly grabbed my sleeve.
"Can we stop somewhere first?"
I frowned. "What for?"
"I haven't eaten."
I looked at her. She quickly placed a hand over her stomach.
"The doctor said I need to take care of myself."
I hated how effective that argument was. Ten minutes later, we were inside a shopping mall.
Gemma insisted she wanted food first. Then she wanted juice, then she wanted to look around. The entire thing felt suspiciously convenient. But creating a scene in public would only attract attention. So I endured it.
While she wandered through a clothing section, I checked my phone. Still nothing from Ayesha. My chest tightened. I had never realised how much I relied on her answering my calls. Then again, she always answered. Until now.
I looked up absentmindedly. And froze. A few stores away stood a familiar figure.
Ayesha.
She was browsing through a rack of oversized sweaters. For the first time in days, she looked peaceful.There was even a small smile on her face. A strange feeling settled in my chest. It was relief.
Before I could stop myself, I started walking towards her.
"Ayesha."
She turned.The smile vanished instantly.
The change hurt more than I expected.
"Ayesha."
She didn't speak.I stopped in front of her.
"What happened yesterday?"
Her eyebrows lifted."What happened yesterday?"
"Why did you leave work so abruptly?"
She stared at me. I suddenly realised how ridiculous that question sounded. Of course she had left. Anyone would have. I tried again.
"You resigned without speaking to me. I called you."
No answer.
"I wanted to explain."
That finally got a reaction. A short laugh escaped her. It was not a happy laugh. It was the kind of laugh people made when they were exhausted.
"Explain what?"
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Because I didn't actually know where to start. There were too many things.
"Didn't you see my resignation letter?"
I frowned. "Of course I saw it."
"Then why are you asking why I left?"
Her voice wasn't loud, just disappointed. I suddenly felt like the villain.
"Ayesha, listen to me."
"No."
Her answer was immediate. I stared at her. She had never spoken to me like that before. Not even once.
"Please."
The word slipped out before I could stop it. Her expression changed slightly.
"I don't want to do this right now, Chris."
The use of my name made my chest tighten.bShe never called me that. It was always Mr. Chris. She was always respectful.
"Ayesha."
She looked directly into my eyes.bFor the first time since I'd known her, there was no warmth there.
"Go away, Chris."
The words struck harder than they should have.
"I have nothing to say to you."
Then she turned around and walked away. I stood there watching her disappear into the crowd. For some reason, I couldn't move. The resignation letter had shocked me, the unanswered calls had worried me.
But this?
This was the moment it finally sank in. Ayesha wasn't throwing a tantrum. She wasn't waiting for me to fix things. She wasn't coming back after she calmed down.
She was done with me.
Ayesha's POVJames Obi answered at eleven in the evening with the voice of a man who had expectedthis call, not because he knew it was coming but because he understood the kind of personMarcus Webb was and the kind of person who, having lost the first three moves, made thefourth one with everything he had."He filed a civil complaint," Ayesha said."I know," James said. "His legal team filed at nine this evening. I received the notificationthrough the court's system thirty minutes ago.""Why didn't you call me?" Ayesha said."Because I was reading the complaint first," James said. "Calling you with incompleteinformation would not have been useful.""What does it say?" she said."It claims the independent structural review was requested as a deliberate strategy tonullify a legitimate permit objection rather than as a genuine inquiry into structural safety,"James said. "It names the foundation and the gallery as joint respondents on the grounds thatthe review was requested in co
Ken's POV"I resigned from the firm."He said it in the kitchen of the house with the garden at ten fifteen in the evening, with Irislistening from the top of the stairs in the way Iris listened to things she was not supposed to belistening to, which was with complete and invisible attention.Ayesha looked at him across the kitchen with the expression that was not anger and wasnot surprise in the dramatic sense but was the specific expression of someone who hadreceived information that was changing the shape of what they understood the current situationto be, and who was doing the work of the reorientation honestly rather than reactively."When?" she said."Three weeks ago," he said. "The day after the cultural centre committee called about theoriginal courtyard commission. I resigned before I accepted the commission.""You resigned before accepting it," she said."Yes," he said."Why?""Because the firm's partnership agreement gives the firm first right to any commissionthat c
Ayesha's POVRowan looked smaller in the hospital bed than she looked in her studio, which was itselfnot a large person's space but which had always seemed exactly the right size for the specificquality of energy Rowan brought to her work, the focused intensity of someone who wasentirely inside what they were making. In room fourteen she looked like what she was, whichwas a twenty-five-year-old who had run herself into the ground on the specific fuel of guilt andgrief and the particular drive of an artist who had decided that stopping was not an option."You flew home," Rowan said."Yes," Ayesha said, sitting in the chair beside the bed."You didn't have to do that," Rowan said."I know," Ayesha said. "I did it anyway. How do you feel?""Embarrassed," Rowan said. "And tired. Mostly embarrassed.""Why embarrassed?" Ayesha said."Because I know better," Rowan said. "I know that the body is part of the work. I knowthat you cannot make anything worth making if the instrument is brok
Ayesha's POVThe session ended at six in the evening New York time and Dr. Cross called Ayesha at sixfifteen with the voice of a woman who had spent the preceding two hours doing somethingdifficult and necessary and was now on the other side of it, not relieved but resolved."Both Haine and the second member have been suspended from the governancecommittee pending a full internal review," Dr. Cross said. "Their access to partnershipdocumentation has been revoked. The foundation's legal counsel is preparing a formal breachof fiduciary duty filing.""And the cultural centre?" Ayesha said."Remains fully active," Dr. Cross said. "The review process was never about the culturalcentre. It was about the consortium's property interest and the governance members who werefacilitating it. With those members suspended the obstruction is removed.""The second member," Ayesha said. "Who?""A woman named Patricia Osei," Dr. Cross said. "She joined the committee eight monthsago. Her communic
Ayesha's POVJames Obi's voice, when she called him from the street outside Danielle's building, hadthe quality it had when he was delivering information he wished he did not have to deliver,which was measured and slightly slower than his usual pace, the specific cadence of a lawyerwho understood that the words he chose in the next two minutes would determine thetemperature of the next two hours."The independent structural review is filed," he said. "That part is handled. What I foundwhile I was filing it is the part I need to tell you about.""Tell me," Ayesha said."Marcus Webb's development interest in the Bushwick block is not independent," Jamessaid. "He is acting as the visible front for a consortium. I found the consortium's filing throughthe city's commercial property registry. Three members. One of them is a name you willrecognise.""Say it," Ayesha said."Robert Haine," James said. "The governance committee member who pushed for thereview of the curatorial authorit
Ayesha's POV"Someone is trying to buy Danielle out."Elaine said it the way people said things they had been sitting with for too long, quicklyand without preamble, standing in the doorway of the Brooklyn space on a Thursday morningwith her coat still on and her phone in her hand like a weapon she had not decided whether touse.Ayesha looked up from the floor plan she had been marking. "Say that again.""Marcus Webb," Elaine said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her with thespecific care of someone who did not want the street to hear the next part of the conversation."The critic. He has a development interest in this block. He wants to convert the building intoprivate studio residencies that he controls the rental of. He approached Danielle last night withan offer to join the project as lead architect. The offer is significant.""How significant?" Ayesha said."Three times what the foundation is paying her for this renovation," Elaine said. "And atwo-year retainer







