The Indiana consortium sent a car.
Aria had not expected this — had expected to drive herself to the meeting the way she drove herself to most things, with the specific independence of someone who had always been her own transportation. But at eight-fifteen on a Tuesday morning in April a black car appeared at the consultancy building and the driver said simply: *Mr. Park sent it. He said you shouldn't be driving at seven months.*
She had stood on the pavement for a moment.
Then she had gotten in the car.
The consortium's headquarters were forty minutes outside the city — a complex that housed six companies across three buildings, the specific organized infrastructure of businesses that had grown together over decades. David Park met her at the entrance with the efficient warmth of som
