I touched my stomach, feeling a tiny, rhythmic flutter. At twenty-four weeks, the weight of the triplets was beginning to change how I walked, how I stood, how I carried myself.
I sat on the edge of the mattress, holding the Cabo receipt in both hands until the paper curled from the heat of my palms.
Savannah Brooks was a social media influencer whom Ryan had hired three months ago to promote our new residential listings. She was twenty-six, with a high-pitched voice and a habit of holding her phone directly in front of her face even during our formal business dinners.
I remembered the way she had laughed at Ryan’s jokes during the autumn launch party, her hand lingering on his forearm for a second too long.
At the time, I had dismissed it as the standard, over-the-top politeness of a young consultant trying to secure her contract.
I smoothed the receipt on the counter, staring at the check-in date of Friday morning.
The kitchen clock chimed nine, then ten, and the apartment remained completely dark.
The lobby of Calloway Development was bustling with morning commuters shaking out their wet umbrellas. I stood near the security desk, my eyes fixed on the private elevator that led directly to the executive suite.
When the brass doors finally slid open, a woman in a pristine white designer coat stepped out into the lobby.
Savannah Brooks held her phone three inches from her face, her thumb moving rapidly across the screen as she walked. Under her arm, she carried a thick manila folder labeled Calloway Marketing Strategy.
“Excuse me, Savannah,” I said, stepping into her path before she could reach the revolving doors.
She stopped, lowering her phone slightly, her eyes scanning my simple gray coat and flat shoes with a swift, critical glance.
“Oh, hi, Claire,” she said, her voice rising in her usual high, dramatic pitch. “Are you here for the quarterly budget meeting? Ryan said you were working from home this week.”
“I came to drop off some paperwork,” I said, keeping my voice calm and choosing my words with precision. “What are those marketing plans for?”
“Ryan is rebranding the entire corporate image,” she said, letting out a sharp, breathless laugh and holding the folder tighter. “We are focusing on a much more modern, luxury aesthetic for the new year.”
“Ryan says the company needs a fresh face,” Savannah said, tapping her French-manicured fingernail against the screen of her phone. “The old Calloway look is very municipal, very dry. I am curating a lifestyle brand. We are going to launch the new campaign in Aspen next month.”
“The marketing materials,” I said, gesturing to the folder. “Those are the original layouts I designed for the harbor project.”
Savannah smiled, her eyes never fully leaving her screen. “Oh, Ryan said those were just rough drafts from a temporary contractor. We needed something with a lot more modern appeal.”
She did not wait for me to reply, her fingers already tapping her phone screen again. “The town car is waiting, and I really can’t be late for this shoot.”
She brushed past me, leaving a faint scent of expensive vanilla perfume in the damp lobby air.
