Yasmin found out about Ezra on a Tuesday.

I didn't know how. Maybe one of the housekeepers mentioned seeing me leave the penthouse with a folder. Maybe Victoria had someone watching me. Maybe Dane said something without meaning to.

She didn't confront me. That wasn't her style.

She just started asking questions. Casual. Light.

"How are you feeling, Ashlyn?"

"Are you getting out much? Fresh air is so important."

"Dane mentioned you had a doctor's appointment. I hope everything's okay."

I answered in single words. Yes. No. Fine.

She smiled every time. That soft, practiced smile that never reached her eyes.

On Thursday morning, she was in the kitchen when I came out of the guest room. She was making tea. The kettle whistled.

"Big day today?" she asked.

I stopped. "What?"

"You're dressed." She gestured at my jeans and sweater. "You haven't left the apartment in weeks."

"I have an errand," I said.

She tilted her head. "Need company? I'm free all morning."

"No."

Her smile didn't waver. "Well, be careful. The city can be overwhelming."

I left without answering.

---

Miles had called the night before. Ezra was arriving at JFK at eleven a.m. He had the finalized documents. Everything we needed.

"I'll meet you at the terminal," I'd said.

"Are you sure you should be traveling?" Miles had asked. "I can bring them to you."

"I need to see him."

A pause. "Understood."

The cab ride took forty minutes. Traffic was heavy. I sat in the back seat with my hands pressed to my stomach. The baby was moving more now. Constant small flutters. Like something trying to get out.

I felt nothing.

JFK was chaos. Travelers everywhere. Announcements echoing off the high ceilings. I checked the arrivals board. Ezra's flight had landed early. I headed toward the international terminal.

The escalator was long. Metal steps that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. I stepped on. Held the rail. Felt the baby kick.

Someone bumped me from behind.

Hard.

I stumbled forward. My hand slipped off the rail. I tried to catch myself but my center of gravity was all wrong. Too much weight in front. I pitched forward.

The steps came up fast. Metal edges. Sharp corners.

I hit shoulder-first. Pain exploded through my arm. I rolled. Hit again. My head cracked against something. The world tilted.

I was falling.

Down.

Down.

Down.

I hit the bottom and everything stopped.

The floor was cold. Smooth tile. I was lying on my side. Something warm was spreading beneath me. Wet. Too much of it.

I tried to move. Couldn't.

Someone screamed.

Footsteps. Running. Voices.

"Oh my God—"

"Someone call 911—"

"Is she breathing?"

I turned my head. Saw the blood. Dark red. Pooling. Spreading.

I pressed my hand to my stomach. Felt nothing move.

Panic hit then. Sharp. Cold.

*No. No no no.*

I tried to sit up. A hand on my shoulder pushed me gently back down.

"Don't move. Help is coming."

I looked up. A security guard. Young. Scared.

"My baby," I whispered.

His face went pale.

More footsteps. Paramedics. They knelt beside me. Asked questions I couldn't answer. How far along. Any pain. Can you feel this.

I couldn't feel anything except the blood. So much blood.

They lifted me onto a stretcher. The ceiling lights blurred past. Someone was holding my hand. I didn't know who.

"We need to get her to a hospital now," one of the paramedics said. His voice was tight. Urgent.

I closed my eyes.

Somewhere above me, I heard a phone ringing. Someone answering.

"We have a medical emergency. Pregnant woman. Approximately twenty-four weeks. Significant hemorrhaging."

Twenty-four weeks.

The baby kicked once. Weak. Faint.

Then nothing.

---

I opened my eyes in the ambulance. The siren was screaming. Everything was too bright. Too loud.

A paramedic leaned over me. "Stay with me, Ashlyn. We're almost there."

I tried to speak. My mouth was dry.

"Ezra," I managed.

"Who?"

"Ezra Stephens. He's at the airport. Terminal four."

The paramedic looked at someone I couldn't see. "Can we contact him?"

"I'll try."

The baby kicked again. Barely there.

I pressed my hand to my stomach and felt the wetness soaking through my jeans. Warm. Sticky.

"Please," I whispered. "Please."

The paramedic squeezed my hand. "We're doing everything we can."

The ambulance lurched around a corner. Pain shot through my abdomen. I gasped.

"Contractions," someone said. "She's going into labor."

No. Too early. Too soon.

The siren screamed louder.

I closed my eyes and counted.

Twelve.

Eight.

Nothing at all.

The rooftop at The Ashford was all glass and light. Manhattan spread out below like a glittering circuit board. Dane stood at the railing with a champagne flute in his hand, laughing at something Marcus Chen had just said.

"You're telling me she actually said that to the board?" Marcus shook his head. "Brutal."

"Victoria doesn't mess around." Dane took a sip. The champagne was good. French. Expensive. He'd ordered three cases.

Behind them, Yasmin moved through the crowd in a white dress that caught the light. She was glowing. Happy. She touched his arm as she passed and smiled that soft smile.

"Having fun?" she asked.

"Always." He kissed her cheek.

She drifted away. He watched her go. Felt something settle in his chest. This was right. This was how things were supposed to be.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. It buzzed again. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen. Unknown number. He silenced it and slipped it back into his jacket.

Marcus was talking about the merger. Dane nodded. Laughed when he was supposed to. The city sparkled. The champagne was cold and perfect.

He didn't think about Ashlyn once.

---

Ezra's flight had landed twelve minutes early. He cleared customs quickly, no checked bags, just a leather briefcase with the finalized documents inside.

He checked his phone as he walked toward the terminal exit. No messages from Ashlyn. He frowned. She'd said she would meet him.

Then he heard the sirens.

Paramedics were running toward the escalators. A crowd had formed. Security was pushing people back. Someone was screaming.

Ezra moved closer.

A woman on the ground. Blood spreading across the tile. Dark. Too much of it.

He saw her face.

Everything stopped.

He was running before he knew he'd moved. Pushing through the crowd. A security guard tried to stop him.

"Sir, you can't—"

"That's my—" He stopped. What was she? "I'm family. Let me through."

The guard hesitated. Ezra didn't wait. He dropped to his knees beside the stretcher.

Ashlyn's eyes were half-closed. Her face was gray. A paramedic was pressing gauze to her abdomen but the blood kept coming.

"Ashlyn." He took her hand. It was cold. "I'm here. I'm right here."

Her eyes found his. Her lips moved.

"Ezra," she whispered.

"Don't talk. Save your strength."

"The baby—"

"We're going to take care of both of you." He looked at the paramedic. "What do you need?"

"We need to move. Now."

They lifted the stretcher. Ezra didn't let go of her hand. He climbed into the ambulance behind them.

The doors slammed shut. The siren screamed to life.

Ashlyn's eyes closed. Her hand went limp in his.

"Stay with me," he said quietly. "Please."

The paramedic was shouting into a radio. Blood pressure dropping. Fetal distress. Possible placental abruption.

Ezra held her hand and didn't let go.

---

The video was grainy. Security camera footage. Black and white. Time stamp in the corner.

A woman on an escalator. Pregnant. Someone behind her. A bump. She falls.

Down the escalator. Rolling. Hitting the metal steps. Over and over.

She lands at the bottom. Doesn't move. Blood spreads beneath her.

Marcus held out his phone. "Dane. You need to see this."

Dane glanced at the screen. Looked away. "Not now, Marcus."

"Dane." Marcus's voice was tight. "Look at it."

Something in his tone made Dane stop. He took the phone. Watched the video.

The woman's face came into view for just a moment before she fell.

Ashlyn.

The champagne flute slipped from his hand. It hit the floor and exploded into a thousand pieces. Champagne and glass everywhere.

The rooftop went quiet.

Dane stared at the phone. Watched the video loop. Ashlyn falling. Ashlyn hitting the ground. Ashlyn not moving.

The time stamp said forty-three minutes ago.

"Where is this?" His voice didn't sound like his.

"JFK. International terminal."

Dane was already moving. He pushed through the crowd. Someone called his name. He didn't stop. The elevator took too long. He took the stairs. Down six flights. His heart hammering.

His car was at the curb. He got in. Started the engine. His hands were shaking.

He pulled into traffic. Cut off a taxi. The driver honked. Dane didn't hear it.

His phone rang. He ignored it. It rang again. He glanced at the screen. Yasmin.

He didn't answer.

The city blurred past. Red lights. He ran them. His hands were still shaking on the wheel.

Forty-three minutes.

Where had she been going? Why was she at the airport? Why hadn't she told him?

He pressed the accelerator. The engine roared.

---

Yasmin stood in the center of the rooftop. Shattered glass glittered at her feet. The guests were whispering. Staring.

She looked at the elevator doors. They were closed. Dane was gone.

She pulled out her phone. Called him. No answer. Called again. Voicemail.

She felt something cold settle in her stomach.

She turned to Marcus. "What was on that video?"

He hesitated.

"Tell me."

"Ashlyn. At the airport. She fell. There was a lot of blood."

Yasmin's face went still. Very carefully still.

"Where did he go?"

"The hospital, I assume."

She nodded slowly. Looked around at the guests. At the champagne. At the white dress she'd spent three thousand dollars on.

She smiled. That soft, practiced smile.

"I'm so sorry, everyone. There's been a family emergency. Please stay. Enjoy the food. I'll be back soon."

She walked to the elevator. Pressed the button. Waited.

The cold feeling in her stomach spread.

The elevator doors opened. She stepped inside. Pressed the button for the lobby.

As the doors closed, her smile disappeared.

She pulled out her phone and made a call.

"I need a car," she said. "Now."