All Chapters of SIR: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

*sighs* *marks this story as completed* *sits here and contemplates my life* ~  I kick my shoes off the second I walk into the apartment, groaning as my feet throb with relief.“I am never wearing those heels ever again,” I whine, padding down the hallway, dropping my bag and coat carelessly on the floor as I walk.“You didn’t buy them for comfort, Doll,” David teases the moment he sees me appear in the kitchen doorway, where he’s already pouring me a glass of wine. “In fact, I don’t think you bought them to wear outside of this apartment at all.”Smiling, I take the glass of wine, then kiss him, my hand habitually going to his neck and scratching lightly over his hairline.“Good day?” he asks.“Yeah. Busy. You?”“Nope. Harlan’s got everything under control. Doesn’t even need me anymore,” he replies, leaning back against the counter as I step back.Over the last six months, it feels like so much has changed, and nothing has changed at

The bathroom light is too bright for this hour, but I leave it on anyway because I need to see every line of myself before I walk out of this house. I tug my blouse into place and glance at the clock on the wall. We are already cutting it close. “Nora,” a voice calls from the kitchen, amused but edged with urgency. “If you’re planning on seducing the mirror, do it later. Calder Investments is not known for its patience.” “I’m coming,” I call back, looping my earrings through my ears. “I have to look perfect. Some of us have standards.” “Some of us have investors who could pull out without warning,” he fires back. “And before you say anything... yes, I’m aware that was a terrible choice of words.” I laugh despite myself. “You’re impossible.” A small voice pipes up from the hallway, high and insistent. “Mommy!" I soften instantly. “Baby, I’ll be there in a minute.”

TW: This is a very intense chapter, both emotionally and physically. Readers discretion is strongly advised. ~ Pain woke me before sound did. It arrived deeply, curling through my abdomen with a certainty that left no room for denial. I inhaled slowly, counting in my head the way the midwife had taught me, the way I had practiced for weeks like this was an exam I could pass if I prepared well enough. “David,” I said, my voice steady even as my body tightened. “It’s starting again.” He was already awake. He had been half awake since we got there, perched on the edge of the chair like a man afraid to sit too comfortably in case fate mistook it for arrogance. “I see it,” he said, moving instantly to my side. “I’m here.” The contraction crested and faded. I let out the breath I had been holding and stared at the ceiling, counting the tiles, grounding myself in numbers because numbers felt safer than thoughts. “That one was stronger,” I said. He nodded, watching the monit

“You’re pregnant.” The word echoed loudly in my head as I tried to pinch myself awake. It took a while for my brain to fully process what the words actually meant. Finally, it did. “That’s not possible,” I said quietly. She folded her hands. “I know what we told you before. The chances were extremely low. But not zero.” My vision blurred. “You’re sure?” I whispered. She nodded. “Quite sure, Mrs. Reid. Congratulations” For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. My hands drifted to my stomach, trembling. Joy crashed into fear so fast it made me dizzy. “Given your history,” she continued, her voice firm now, “you need to be extremely careful. No stress. No exertion. Eat small but frequent meals and stay hydrated. Avoid anything that raises adrenaline. We’ll need to monitor you closely.” I nodded, barely hearing her.

The room tilts. Not literally. Nothing so dramatic. The glass walls remain upright, the long walnut table stays polished and still, the city beyond the windows continues breathing in its slow, arrogant way. But something inside me slips out of alignment the second he steps through the door. David Reid. Alive. Whole. Unchanged in all the ways that matter and all the ways that ruin me. For a fraction of a second, I forget how to breathe. I forget how to be the woman seated at the head of the table with a tablet in front of her and a legal pad to her right, forget how to be the COO with her spine straight and her face schooled into professional calm. I am abruptly and violently aware of the girl I used to be, the one who once memorized the cadence of his footsteps, the one who knew when he was in a good mood by the looseness of his tie. My fingers curl against the edge of the table before anyone can notice the slip. McAllister rises halfway from his seat, already smiling. “