The glass tower of Sullivan Enterprise Headquarters pierced through the morning fog like a silver blade.
I stood in the polished granite lobby at eight-forty-five, my hands smoothed flat against the lapels of my crimson Italian silk suit. The fabric was sharp, immaculate, and utterly unyielding. Beside me, high-powered executives in navy and charcoal coats streamed past the turnstiles, but my gaze remained fixed on my reflection in the dark elevator doors.
There were no shadows under my eyes today. No traces of panic. The tiny life growing inside me felt less like a vulnerability and more like a quiet, burning foundation.
The elevator doors chimed open. I stepped in, pressing the button for the thirty-fourth floor—the executive boardsuite.
When the doors slid open on the top floor
