LOGINI looked at him.That was all I could do for the moment without setting the entire building on fire.I wanted to laugh because, no doubt, Rafael Moretti could look at a little boy with his own face for less than three minutes and immediately turn my office hallway into a private interrogation room.Another man might have panicked. Another man might have asked the question with his voice cracking or sat down because his knees had developed opinions. Rafael, naturally, just stood before me like a court ruling in a charcoal suit.“No,” I said finally.His eyes didn’t move. “No what?”“No to every version of this conversation you’re already putting together in your head.” I set the folder down on my desk without checking whether the edges lined up, which should have counted as official proof that everyone in this room was mentally unwell. “No to the questions, no to the accusations, and no to the rich-man drama about suddenly discovering that math can hurt your feelings.”“Sasha.”“And es
I took a slow breath through my nose, slow enough not to sound like a woman whose heart had just tried to escape her body through her rib cage. Then I lifted my chin, pulled my expression back together with whatever dignity I had left, and turned to Rafael.“The meeting is over.”Thank God.My voice came out steady.God bless expensive lipstick and well-managed trauma.He was still looking at me, and I could feel the question before he even formed it.No.I was not doing this here.Not at Aster House, not in front of frosted glass that had already proven completely useless as protection, not in a hallway where one of my employees could appear at any second carrying a bronze sample or a framing problem with suicidal tendencies.“Nina will send the minutes,” I continued, because apparently the part of my brain responsible for corporate survival was still wearing heels and carrying a clipboard. “Aster House legal will wait for the revised warranty language from your team. Capital release
The glass door slid open before I could get there, and Max stepped out from behind the frosted strip looking completely unbothered, because of course he had no idea his mother was two seconds away from dying on the spot.Shit.Too late.His hair was already a mess again even though I’d combed it that morning. His long bangs fell almost over his eyebrows, his cheeks were still round and slightly flushed from running, and one of his white sneaker laces had come undone and was dragging lightly across the floor.His little backpack hung crooked from one shoulder, the T-shirt under his cardigan had come untucked, and his expression was completely serious because apparently the biggest tragedy in the world right now was not that his biological father was standing six feet away from us.Kevin was missing.“Mami, I had Kevin and then Auntie said elevator, and then I saw he wasn’t there and I said wait, but she said “we had to go downstairs,” but Kevin can’t get left behind because he doesn’t
The entire office suite suddenly felt too bright.“What?” I tried to sound normal even as my heart started hitting a little harder inside my chest.“Rafael Moretti,” she said more quietly, like the name itself might have hearing. “With the portfolio director from Moretti Holdings.”I looked at the glass office door.A frosted strip ran across the middle, enough for partial visual privacy but not sound. “He’s here now?”“Literally standing six feet from my desk.”“Why?”“Says it’s about the revised glazing schedule. They just came from a meeting nearby and want to review it before capital release.”Because apparently calendar invites were now a bourgeois concept that didn’t apply to billionaires.I turned off the intercom.Max looked up. “Mami?”It took about half a second for my brain to put everything together, and once it did, I wished it hadn’t bothered.Max is in my office. Rafael had just arrived at reception. The only things separating them were one corridor, the material librar
Two days after Santa Barbara, Max’s preschool had a plumbing problem that, according to the school email, was a minor infrastructure issue and, according to Gabriella after talking to one of the moms in the parking lot, meant the second-floor toilets had collectively decided to wage war on the education system.School was closed for the day.Gabriella had an appointment she couldn’t move until noon, so at eight forty, I walked into Aster House with my laptop in one hand, coffee in the other, and a four-year-old trailing behind me in a dinosaur backpack and red sunglasses no one remembered buying him.“Mami works until lunch,” I said when the elevator doors opened. “Then we go home.”Max walked out first. “I work too.”“You don’t have a job.”“I’m a research.”I looked at the back of his head. His black bangs were almost covering his eyes again because the haircut I’d scheduled twice had somehow turned into diplomatic negotiations both times. Today he was wearing tiny khaki cargo pants
The fabrication facility in Santa Barbara sat inside an industrial complex near the highway, all concrete, steel cladding, and oversized loading doors that made it immediately clear this was the kind of place where glass worth tens of thousands of dollars was treated like it had more rights than most people.The production manager was already waiting with the sales director, the QA lead, and someone from legal who was introduced far too quickly for a man who had clearly shown up because the company had started smelling a potential invoice.Excellent.They took us to a conference room first.Production logs, coating records, photographs, and a carafe of coffee that looked like it had been made that morning and left there to study suffering were already spread across the table.I didn’t touch it.Neither did Rafael.“First, we want to emphasize that the units left our facility in compliant condition.” The sales director, a man named Martin, opened with a sentence that made me dislike hi
After lunch, I moved my laptop and iPad into the living room. I cracked the glass door open so the sea breeze could slip in. I sat on the sofa with my MacBook on my lap, my iPad on the table, Apple Pencil in hand, my hair twisted messily on top of my head. On the screen, the Malibu floor plan stared
By ten twelve, I had already left Aster House with my laptop still warm in my bag, one unfinished contractor call in my ear, and Nina’s last text message sitting on my screen:[If the tile vendor calls again, I’m faking my own death.]I replied with one hand at a red light.[Do it after lunch. We ha
We went downstairs together. The house was still full of clean morning light, the large glass windows in the living room catching the color of the ocean in the distance. In the kitchen, Max’s breakfast was almost gone: small pieces of pancake, strawberries, scrambled eggs he had eaten while complain
Today, Maxime Rivera decided that uniform shorts were a form of oppression.I knew this before he said it, because he was already lying flat on his back on the bedroom rug with one leg in the air, his black hair sticking out in every direction, his bangs covering almost half his forehead, and his wh







