Jessica woke to the vibration of her phone. The sun was barely up. A message from Alex blinked on her screen:
Alex: The driver is waiting outside. You have a 10 AM appointment at the clinic. They’ll handle everything.
No greeting. No warmth. Just command.
She dressed quickly, tying her hair into a low ponytail and pressing her lips together as if sealing away her thoughts. Downstairs, a black SUV idled by the curb, sleek, tinted, and silent. The driver stepped out the moment he saw her.
“Good morning, Ma’am Jessica,” he greeted.
She nodded wordlessly and got in.
The ride to Bonifacio Global City passed in quiet tension. Outside, the city shimmered with the effortless gloss of money, coffee shops spilling out designer bags, mirrored towers stabbing the sky. Jessica felt like an impost
