The heartbeat

THREE MONTHS LATER

“Just one more slide,” Ivy told herself, fingers steady on the clicker despite the faint throb building behind her temples.

The Alexander & McQueen boardroom smelled faintly of espresso and polished oak, the kind of understated luxury that whispered power rather than shouted it. Floor-to-ceiling windows cast the city in sharp relief, the skyline glittering behind Ivy as she stood at the head of the table.

“Gentlemen, if we position the spring campaign to highlight exclusive collaborations rather than seasonal collections, we’ll not only drive engagement but also solidify brand loyalty,” she said, her voice steady, confident.

It had taken her months to get here, months of late nights, flawless pitches, and proving that she wasn’t just another intern passing through the department. Now she was leading the meeting with representatives from one of the firm’s biggest luxury clients.

Across from her, the client’s COO, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, nodded slowly. “Impressive. And the projected ROI for the first quarter?”

Ivy clicked to the next slide, the numbers crisp and exact on the screen. “We’re looking at a conservative fifteen percent increase, potentially twenty-two if we launch ahead of schedule.”

There was a hum of approval around the table. She caught the approving glance from Mr. Hayworth, the head of marketing, and her chest swelled with quiet pride.

And then- …

Her vision wavered, the edges of the room softening like wet paint.

She blinked hard, shifting her weight, willing the sudden vertigo to pass. Not now. Not in the middle of this.

“…We’ll also leverage high-visibility influencers to-...” She stopped, gripping the edge of the table as a wave of dizziness crashed over her.

“Ivy?” Hayworth’s voice cut in, concerned about replacing his usual boardroom polish.

She forced a thin smile. “I’m fine. Just… maybe the coffee was stronger than-...”

The words never finished. Her knees gave out, the clicker slipping from her hand and clattering onto the polished floor.

Chairs scraped back. Someone’s voice, Andrew from the analytics team, sounded far away. “Call an ambulance!”

The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the blurred outline of Hayworth crouching beside her, his hand on her shoulder, and the city skyline tilting sharply in the background.

---

A FEW HOURS LATER

White light. The faint antiseptic smell of disinfectant.

Ivy blinked up at a white ceiling, the steady hum of a machine filling the silence.

“You gave us quite a scare,” a voice said gently.

A nurse stood by her bed, tall and poised, her British accent clipped yet kind. “You fainted while working. Likely exhaustion, but we ran some tests to be sure.”

Ivy’s lips felt dry. “Tests?”

The nurse hesitated, then stepped closer, her voice dropping. “Miss Marlowe… you’re three months pregnant.”

For a moment, Ivy thought she’d misheard.

The rain had started sometime after the fall. Now it tapped against the hospital window, each droplet tracing slow paths down the glass, like thoughts she couldn’t keep hold of.

She sat on the edge of the bed, the paper report clutched so tightly it creased beneath her fingers.

Three words.

Three months.

Three lives…hers, the child’s… and his.

Her mind replayed the nurse’s voice: You’re three months pregnant.

“No,” she’d said at first, shaking her head, her voice breaking. “This has to be a mistake.”

The nurse’s eyes were soft, steady. “It isn’t. You’re healthy, but you’ll need regular checkups. Do you… have someone we can call?”

Ivy almost said yes. Asher Cole. The name sat on the tip of her tongue like an open wound.

But she heard his voice that morning,

‘It was a mistake.’

The words shut her throat. “No. There’s no one.”

The nurse studied her a moment longer, then set the folder down gently and gave her a moment before the nurse started talking again.

“We’d like to do an ultrasound before you’re discharged, just to check everything looks normal.”

Ivy lay back, staring at the ceiling as the cool gel spread across her skin. The probe pressed lightly, and the screen flickered.

She wasn’t prepared for the sound, steady, rhythmic, impossibly small and yet filling the whole room.

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat,” the doctor said softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Strong.”

The sound filled the quiet room, fast, steady, insistent. Ivy’s breath hitched.

Her gaze drifted to the monitor, where grainy shadows shifted and blurred. At first, it was just shapes. Then, as the doctor adjusted the angle, a tiny profile came into focus…round forehead, a delicate curve of nose, the faint suggestion of a chin.

Her chest tightened.

It wasn’t just any profile. In that faint, flickering outline, she saw him. The slope of the nose. The stubborn lift of the chin. Even in the black-and-white haze, it was Asher.

Her throat ached as her palm pressed gently to her stomach, her fingers trembling. The warmth beneath her touch felt like a fragile miracle. And in her mind, unbidden, came an image…storm-gray eyes looking up at her with trust, a smile that was shy but certain.

The sight pierced her in two directions at once, filling her with an aching warmth and gutting her with the reminder of the man who would never want this.

Fear rose, quick and sharp. She had grown up with no one to fight for her. Could she fight for someone else? Could she give this child what she never had…safety, love, a home?

The doctor’s voice pulled her from the spiral. “Everything looks healthy.”

Healthy. Alive. Waiting for her.

Her father’s voice echoed in the memory, harsh and impatient.

“You think you’re better than me, don’t you? Just because your mother-...” His hand slamming on the table cut off the words, but the sound still rang in her ears.

She remembered hiding in the narrow hallway, clutching a battered copy of Jane Eyre, reading until the shouting stopped.

And then there was silence, her mother gone, her father slipping into the haze of alcohol until there was nothing left of him but debts and bitterness.

The orphanage wasn’t much better. Children are kind and pure, but sometimes cruel. The orphanage was like a small kingdom, with a clear hierarchy. Loneliness became routine, kindness rare. She learned quickly that no one was coming for her. But now there's someone coming for her.

Her gaze drifted down to her abdomen, her palm pressing lightly over the barely-there curve.

Her father’s voice, sharp as broken glass.

Her mother’s silence, pretending not to hear. The orphanage walls, where loneliness became routine. The shadow of herself accompanies her.

She had grown up with no one to protect her. And now…

She looked down at the faint curve of her abdomen.

By the time Ivy stepped out into the soft drizzle, the world felt different. The cool rain kissed her cheeks as if sealing her decision.

Her hand found her stomach again, steady now. “I’ll keep you,” she whispered, her voice breaking yet resolute. “Even if the world turns its back, I won’t. You’ll have everything I never did.”

And as she walked away from the hospital, she realized that in keeping the baby, she was keeping a part of Asher, too…a part he should know existed.

---

TWO WEEKS LATER

“Ivy Marlowe, do you have any idea what you cost us today?”

The voice was sharp, cutting through the polished silence of the corner office. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind the massive oak desk framed the London skyline, but the view did nothing to soften the tension in the room.

Across from her, Alexander & McQueen’s CEO, Christopher Hayes, stood rather than sat, a stack of reports in his hand. His tailored navy suit was immaculate, but there was a restless edge to him, like a man holding back a storm.

Ivy kept her chin up, though her pulse was a frantic drumbeat. “I understand the deal fell through-...”

“Fell through?” His voice rose just enough to make her flinch. “You walked into that boardroom with the contract practically in our hands and came out empty. Do you realize the ripple effect of losing that client?”

The reprimand stung more because she already knew she had failed, her sudden fainting spell had cut the meeting short, leaving her assistant scrambling to cover for her. No amount of apologies could change the fact she had cost the company one of their most high-profile campaigns of the quarter.

She took a slow breath. “Mr. Hayes… I think it’s clear I’m not the right person for this position.”

His head snapped toward her.

“I’ll… tender my resignation,” she continued, her voice steady even as her stomach knotted. “It’s what’s best for the company. At the same time, I have something very important to do which requires me to travel to New York.” The last sentence she mostly told herself.

Yes, she has decided to let Asher know. She is going to tell him that she was carrying his child and will decide her life…her and her child's life from there on.

Something in his expression shifted. His jaw tightened, and his hand clenched into a fist on top of the desk. She didn’t notice, the floor seemed to hold her gaze, her fingers twisting the strap of her bag.

When he finally spoke, his tone was quieter, but no less intense. “No.”

Her eyes lifted, startled.

He cleared his throat, schooling his face back into its usual calm. “You can't resign because I need you to do something to compensate for what you did.”

Her brows knit. “Compensate..how?”

He moved around the desk, standing closer now, his shadow stretching across the polished wood floor. “We have a critical negotiation in New York. High stakes, high reward. If you can secure the deal, not only will you redeem yourself, you’ll prove you belong in this role.”

Ivy blinked, her voice shaking. “You want me to go to New York?”

---

A FEW DAYS LATER – NEW YORK

New York hit her like a living thing.

The noise, the lights, the cold air against her skin, it all felt too sharp, too real.

The cab dropped her at the foot of the Red Star Group headquarters, the building’s glass surface reflecting the city like a jewel.

She looked down at the card in her hand. It's the same business card he had given her that night, to contact his secretary for any kind of compensation. She wanted to tear it the same day but she doesn't know why, she couldn't do that.

Maybe for this day…

For a moment, she stood there, staring at the empire Asher Cole controlled. Her stomach tightened.

“What am I doing here?” She asked herself.

Inside, the marble lobby gleamed under golden light. A faint scent of polished wood and perfume hung in the air. Behind the reception desk, a stunning brunette with sleek hair looked up from her computer.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Ivy said, straightening her shoulders. “I’d like to see Mr. Cole. Asher Cole.”

The receptionist, Hailey, according to the name tag, gave her a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but-...”

Hailey’s smile sharpened. “Then unfortunately, Mr. Cole won’t be available. He doesn’t… see walk-ins.” Her gaze swept over Ivy, lingering a little too long on her simple dress, her scuffed flats. “Especially ones who don’t look like they belong here.”

Ivy’s cheeks burned. “It’s important.”

Hailey leaned forward slightly, voice dripping with false sweetness. “Sweetheart, everyone thinks their business with him is important. But trust me, if he wanted to see you, you’d already be upstairs.”

The humiliation stung, a sharp reminder of all the doors that had been shut in her face before.

“Hailey.”

The voice came from behind them, calm, elegant, but edged with steel.

Both women turned.

A tall woman approached, her chestnut hair swept back into an elegant twist. A silk scarf in deep crimson fell perfectly across her shoulders.

“Ms. Velvet,” Hailey said quickly, her tone flipping to deference.

Velvet Cole was Asher’s aunt, the youngest daughter of the Cole family. Velvet’s influence was softer, woven from grace and quiet observation. People often mistook her elegance for distance, but Velvet noticed everything and she rarely acted without purpose.

Velvet’s eyes moved to Ivy, taking her in with a single glance. “And who might you be?”

“Ivy Marlowe,” Ivy said, forcing her voice steady. “I… need to speak with Asher Cole.”

Velvet’s brow lifted, something unspoken flickering in her eyes. “Come with me.”

Hailey’s jaw tightened as Velvet led Ivy across the marble floor, the click of their heels echoing softly.