The Master Suite was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire. Victoria sat on the edge of the bed, clutching a small, grainy printout. When William entered, loosening his tie after a long day of “philanthropic strategy,” he stopped.
“What is it?” he asked, sensing the shift in the air. “Did the Board push back on the Vane acquisition?”
Victoria shook her head. She held out the ultrasound image. William took it, his brow furrowing in confusion before his eyes widened. The shock melted instantly into a radiant, unguarded smile–the kind he hadn’t worn since before the avalanche.
“A baby,” he whispered, sitting beside her and pulling her into a fierce embrace. “We’re having a baby.”
For a moment, they were just a husband and wife, healed from the traumas of amnesia and war. But the moment was fragile. Victoria pulled back, her expression serious.
“We can’t tell anyone,” she said firmly. “Not yet.”
“Why?” William asked, his smile fading.
“The Board is already calling my leadership the ‘Widow’s Dip,’” Victoria explained, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. “If Sterling and the others find out I’m pregnant, they won’t see a mother. They’ll see a liability. They’ll say I’m hormonal, distracted, unfit to steer the company through a hostile takeover.”
William looked at the image, then at his wife. He hated the politics, but he knew she was right. The Chairwoman had to be iron; she couldn’t afford to be human.
“A secret, then,” William agreed, kissing her forehead. “Just us. The Fortress.”