Chapter 3 Make Waves

Mia's POV

The morning sickness hit me as soon as I woke up. I barely made it to the bathroom in time, and afterward I knelt on the cold tile with my forehead against the sink, one hand pressed to my stomach, breathing through it.

"I know," I whispered to them. "I know. We only have to do this a little longer."

The mirror was unkind. Dark circles. Pale skin. Three more days. I only had to be invisible for three more days, and being invisible was the one thing K.T. Enterprises had ever trained me to do.

The elevator doors had barely opened before the whispers found me.

"—came in at nine with him. In his car." Jenna from accounting had her back to me, coffee cup forgotten in her hand, holding court by the copier. "Marie saw them in the parking garage. He opened her door for her."

"Mr. Branson opened a door?" Priya laughed, low and scandalized. "For a human woman?"

"I'm telling you. And you should see her — she's upstairs right now. Red dress, legs for days. Gorgeous."

"Who is she?"

"Taylor Porter. Apparently they were high school sweethearts." Jenna's voice dropped into the reverent register people reserve for other people's romances. "First love, back after all these years. Isn't that the most romantic thing you've ever heard?"

I stood three feet away, waiting for the copier, invisible. None of them lowered their voices. Why would they? I was Mia from HR — quiet, reliable, beneath notice.

"They're saying fiancée," Priya said. "Dana heard it from his floor. The fiancée is visiting."

The word went through me.

"God, imagine," Jenna sighed. "Ten years building an empire, naming it after her — K.T., you know that's them, Kyle and Taylor — and now she comes home and it's like no time passed at all. Some women get everything."

"And some of us get Steve from procurement," Priya said, and they laughed, and the copier finished its run, and I gathered my pages with steady hands.

"Morning, Mia," Jenna added kindly, stepping aside for me. "You look pale — you should get some rest."

"I will," I said. "Thank you."

Linda was waiting at my desk, her expression neutral as ever, holding out two cups of coffee. "He asked for these," she murmured, her tone professional, yet I could sense a hint of pity. Linda knew. Linda had stood witness in a registry office while my husband checked his phone. Linda was the only person in this building who knew I existed.

My stomach churned at the smell of the coffee, but I nodded. "Sure."

When I pushed open Kyle's office door, Taylor was sitting next to him.

Taylor rose in one fluid motion, smoothing her red dress, entirely unhurried. She wanted me to see. This was the performance, and I was the audience of one.

"Oh, look who it is," her voice dripped honey. "How nice to see you, Mia."

I set the cups down carefully, watching my own hands as if they belonged to someone steadier. "Your coffee, Mr. Branson."

"That's not how I like my coffee," Taylor pouted, lifting the cup and taking a delicate sip. "Too much sugar. Be a dear and get me another one."

"I didn't make the coffee, Miss Matthews. Perhaps you should specify your preferences to the coffee shop directly."

Her eyes narrowed for a heartbeat before she laughed. "Oh, Kyle, isn't she adorable? So defensive over a cup of coffee." She turned to me, her smile never reaching her eyes. "Actually, Mia, wait — could you show me to the ladies' room? This building is so big, I always get lost."

I knew it was a trap. I had known this woman since I was fifteen. But Kyle sat there behind his desk, not even looking up, and refusing her in front of him would cost more than walking into it.

"Of course," I said.

The moment the door swung shut behind us, the sweet facade dropped. She checked every stall, unhurried, heels clicking on the tile — and then she turned.

"I know what you're doing," she hissed. "Playing the perfect employee, always so helpful, so eager to please. Everyone knows you've always been desperate for any scrap of attention. You're just like your mother — always trying to grab what doesn't belong to you."

My hands trembled. "Don't talk about my mother."

"Why not?" She stepped closer, her perfume thick in my throat. "Everyone knew what she was. And look at you — following in her footsteps. Do you think he'll ever see you as anything more than what you are? A convenient employee he can use?" She smiled. "You'll never be anything to him, Mia. But you should remember what your mother got in the end."

Something in me snapped .

The slap echoed off the tiles.

Taylor's head whipped to the side. My palm burned, and I stood there shaking, breathless, alive to my fingertips. For a moment there was absolute silence. Then, slowly, she started to smile — and my blood ran cold, because I knew that smile. She grabbed her own arm and squeezed hard, leaving red marks. Messed her hair. Let the tears rise on cue, beautiful, brimming.

The door burst open. Kyle stood there, his face dark with anger.

"Kyle!" Taylor sobbed, running to him, burying her face in his chest. "I don't know what happened — I just wanted to talk to her, to try to be friends, I know our past is complicated, but she — she attacked me!"

"She's lying," I said. "Kyle, she—"

"I saw enough." His voice was ice. "Apologize, Mia."

But I met his gaze, and my heart broke one final, quiet time — not like glass, like a fever. Breaking as in ending.

"No," I whispered. "I won't apologize."

His jaw tightened.

"Fine," he said coldly. "You're suspended. Linda will handle your work until further notice."

"No," I said. "I'm quitting."

Taylor's sobbing hitched. And Kyle went very still.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me." My voice didn't shake. "I quit." I looked at the two of them. "I hope you both enjoy today."

"Mia." Kyle's voice cracked out like a whip as I turned. "We are not done—"

I walked out.

Then I took out my phone and dialed. It rang twice before a gentle, deep voice answered, warm with surprise.

"Mia?"

I looked out the window at the city, at all that sky I'd forgotten was there.

"I'm leaving him," I said. "Let's meet up."