Julianna reached into her clutch and pulled out a single photograph. She slid it face-down across the white tablecloth.
Victoria picked it up. It was the photo of her prenatal vitamins, sitting inside her purse in her private office.
The blood drained from Victoria’s face.
“Elias Graves,” Victoria realized, her voice cold. “He wasn’t an auditor. He was a thief.”
“He was an investment,” Julianna corrected. “Here is the situation, my dear. If you are pregnant, the shareholders have a right to know. The ‘Widow’s Dip’ is already hurting the stock. Imagine what will happen when the blogs find out the Chairman is about to take six months of maternity leave. They’ll call you hormonal. They’ll say you’re distracted. They’ll say Alistair’s empire is being run from a changing table.”
Julianna took a sip of wine. “I am preparing a press release for Monday morning exposing your condition and questioning your mental fitness to lead. The headline is already drafted: *The Mommy Track: Is Croft Enterprises Leaderless?*”.
“Unless?” Victoria asked, her hand trembling beneath the table.
“Unless you resign,” Julianna said. “Cite health reasons. Step down. Appoint an interim CEO–preferably one open to a merger with Vane-Tech. Go home, have your baby, and be a mother. It’s what you’re good at.”