Two weeks felt like a year.
I went to work every day. I took client calls and reviewed material samples and replied to emails with full sentences and correct punctuation. From the outside I looked like a woman holding it together. On the inside I was running the same math over and over, counting weeks, calculating windows, trying to build a truth out of numbers that would not sit still.
Vivienne had confirmed the pregnancy medically. Eleven weeks. That part was real. What was not yet confirmed was whether the child was Marcus's. She had submitted to the paternity test only after her attorney got involved, which told me she had an attorney, which told me she had planned for this.
Marcus called every day. I answered every other day. He was staying at a hotel in Midtown and he sounded like
