Fiona walked into the Obsidian Spire with Martin's kiss still burning on her lips and the decision solid in her chest.
She'd told her mom the truth about Marcus last night—quietly, tearfully, over cold tea and open wedding magazines. Elara had listened, cried, hugged her tight, and whispered the words Fiona needed most: "You don't need him. You never did." The broken engagement was out in the open now. The magazines had been stacked and quietly set aside. Her mother had even joked about turning the swatches into a quilt "for the next chapter."
But the bigger secret the baby, the father, the kiss in the elevator still sat locked inside her like a live wire.
Today she would tell Martin.
She had to.
The baby was his. He deserved the truth. Even if he hated her for it. Even if it meant losing the job she'd fought so hard to keep.
