Amara’s POV
Six months.
In the world of the Wolfe empire, six months was enough time to flip a conglomerate, launch a global merger, and erase a woman from history. But in my world, six months was measured in the steady, rhythmic growth of the life inside me and the callouses forming on my fingertips.
I pulled the needle through the heavy denim, my fingers moving with a muscle memory that felt like a lifeline. The small sewing machine hummed a low, comforting song in the back of "Rose’s Alterations," a tiny shop tucked away in a coastal town three hours north of the city.
The air here didn't smell like rubbing alcohol or expensive perfume. It smelled of salt, pine needles, and the cheap laundry detergent from the laundromat next door. It was a humble smell. A safe smell.
I paused, pre
