Chapter 8 — Catherine's Offer
1106 Words
POV: Yessica | Location: New York
Yessica stepped back from the door.
Not an invitation. Just space.
Catherine took it as one anyway, moving into the penthouse with the ease of a woman who had always considered it more hers than anyone else's. She looked around the living room — unhurried, assessing — the way she looked at every room she entered. Cataloguing. Calculating the current state of affairs against the version she preferred.
"You look better than I expected," Catherine said.
"I was on bed rest for a week."
"I know." She set her bag on the console table. "Lewis told his father. His father told me." She said it without apology — information moved through the Sterling family the way water moved through pipes; simply, inevitably, by design.
Yessica stayed near the door.
"What do you want, Catherine?"
"To talk." She looked at the sofa. "May I sit?"
"You're already planning to."
A pause. Something moved across Catherine's face — not quite amusement. The closest she got. "You've changed," she said.
"Sit down," Yessica said. "Say what you came to say."
Catherine sat. Folded her hands in her lap. The precise posture of a woman who had never once slouched.
"Lewis came back from Dubai differently," she said. "I noticed it on the phone. He's— recalibrated. Around you."
Yessica didn't respond.
"It concerns me," Catherine said.
"Your son becoming invested in his marriage concerns you."
"His stability concerns me." Catherine's voice was measured. "Lewis has been building toward Singapore for three years. The Harrington signing is next week. This expansion could define the next decade of Sterling Capital." She paused. "Emotional disruption at this stage is a liability."
"I'm not a liability."
"A difficult pregnancy is." Catherine held her gaze. "I'm not being cruel. I'm being clear. When Lewis is distracted — when he's worried, guilty, emotionally compromised — he makes different decisions. Slower ones. Less effective ones."
"So you want me to make it easier for him to ignore us."
"I want you to consider," Catherine said carefully, "whether this is the right time for a child."
The room went very quiet.
Yessica looked at her.
"What did you just say?"
"The pregnancy is fragile. You've nearly lost it once already." Catherine's voice was even. Rational. The voice of someone presenting a sensible proposal. "A termination now would be—"
"Get out."
"Yessica—"
"Get out of this apartment." Her voice was very quiet. Quieter than she'd expected. "Right now."
Catherine didn't move immediately. She looked at Yessica with the expression of a woman recalibrating — not retreating, just repositioning.
"I understand this is upsetting—"
"You came to my home." Yessica took a step forward. "While my husband was at work. To suggest I terminate my pregnancy." She held Catherine's gaze without blinking. "So that Lewis could focus on the Singapore deal."
"So that you both could—"
"The answer is no." The word came out absolute. "The answer will always be no. And if you ever suggest this again — to me, to Lewis, to anyone — I will make sure he knows exactly what you came here to say today."
Something shifted in Catherine's expression.
Not guilt. Catherine Sterling didn't do guilt. But a reassessment. The specific look of a chess player who has pushed a piece and discovered the board was configured differently than she'd assumed.
She stood.
Picked up her bag.
Moved toward the door.
"You're stronger than I gave you credit for," she said. Not warmly. Observationally.
"I know," Yessica said. "That's been your mistake from the beginning."
Catherine looked at her for one more moment.
Then she left.
The door clicked shut.
Yessica stood in the middle of the living room and breathed.
Her hands were shaking.
Not from fear — the shaking had the texture of aftermath, the physical release of adrenaline that had nowhere to go now that the threat was out the door. She pressed both hands flat against her thighs and breathed through it.
Terminate the pregnancy.
The words sat in the room like something physical.
She walked to the kitchen. Filled a glass of water. Drank it standing at the sink, looking out at the city.
So that Lewis could focus on the Singapore deal.
Twelve weeks. She was almost twelve weeks. The heartbeat was stronger. Dr. Patel was cautiously optimistic. Lewis was coming home at six-thirty and ordering soup from Lexington.
And his mother had come to her apartment to suggest she end it.
She put the glass down.
Picked up her phone.
Diana Osei's number.
She stared at it for a long time.
Lewis was trying. That was real. The doctor's appointment, the soup, the seven-thirty dinners — the effort was genuine and she could see it and it meant something.
But.
His mother had a key to this building. Had come here while he was at work. Had sat on his sofa and said consider whether this is the right time for a child with the calm of a woman who expected compliance.
And Lewis didn't know.
The question wasn't whether to tell him.
She would tell him. Tonight, when he came home. She would tell him about the silver box and the pregnancy and Catherine and all of it, and she would watch his face when he heard what his mother had done, and the shape of his response would tell her everything she still needed to know.
She put the phone down.
Started planning what she'd say.
At six twenty-eight, Lewis's key turned in the lock.
He came in with his jacket over his arm and the particular focused energy of a man who'd had a productive day and was consciously trying to leave it at the door.
"Hey." He looked at her face. Stopped. "What happened?"
"Sit down," she said. "I have to tell you something."
He sat immediately. No phone, no jacket — he just sat. Looking at her with complete attention.
She took a breath.
"I'm pregnant," she said. "I've known for three weeks. The baby is the one who nearly didn't make it. She's yours. She's real. She has a heartbeat I've been counting every day since the emergency room." She held his gaze. "And your mother came here this afternoon, while you were at work, and suggested I terminate the pregnancy so you could focus on Singapore."
Lewis went completely still.
She watched his face.
Watched the sequence move through it — the pregnancy landing first, then the baby, then she, then mother, then the full weight of what she'd just said.
"She what," he said.
- Writer
