The departmental reports blur into meaningless shapes. I've read the same paragraph three times without absorbing a single word. Numbers swim. Projections tangle. My brain refuses to cooperate with anything resembling work.
A knock splinters my concentration.
"Adison?" Tommy's voice carries through the door, careful and apologetic. "There's a guy here to see you. Says his name is Zachary. Claims he's your right-hand man?"
Horror floods through me like ice water.
He actually came.
I'm on my feet before I can form a coherent thought, yanking open the door with hands that won't stop shaking.
"Where is he?"
"Front porch." Tommy's brow furrows with concern. "Everything okay? He seems intense."
"It's fine." The lie scrapes past my teeth. "I'll handle it."
I find Zachary waiting exactly where Tommy described—standing on the porch with luggage at his feet, surveying the ranch like he's calculating its market value.
His suit is immaculate despite the dust and heat. His expression carries the particular smugness of someone who's won a battle before it started.
"Tommy, thank you." I keep my voice steady, dismissing him with a nod. "I'll take it from here."
Tommy hesitates, clearly sensing the tension, but he retreats toward the stables without argument.
Smart boy.
The moment he's out of earshot, I round on Zachary.
"What the hell are you doing here?" The words come out sharp. Dangerous. "I told you not to come. I was explicit."
"You were." Zachary's voice drops low, but steel runs underneath it. "But I couldn't stop thinking about you since I talked to Maria on the phone."
My stomach plummets.
"She found something interesting in your bathroom trash." He watches my face with clinical attention, cataloging every micro-expression. "A pregnancy test. Positive."
The world tilts sideways.
"How long were you planning to hide this, Adison?" His tone softens, but the accusation remains. "Your health matters now more than ever. You can't keep running from—"
"Lower your voice." I hiss the command through clenched teeth, glancing toward the stables. "Are you trying to announce it to the entire ranch?"
Zachary's expression shifts. Something almost gentle moves behind his eyes.
"No one else knows." He says it quietly now, a concession I didn't ask for. "Maria came to me directly. She's worried about you."
"Maria should mind her own business." The anger feels safer than the terror clawing up my throat. "And so should you."
"Why haven't you told Jake?"
The question lands like a physical blow. I take a step back, putting distance between us.
"That's none of your business." My voice comes out colder than I intend. "None of this is your business."
"You're carrying a child and hiding it from the father." Zachary doesn't back down. "That's not a corporate matter. That's a fundamental—"
"Adison."
Jake's voice cuts through the confrontation like a blade. I spin to find him standing behind us, his expression unreadable. How long has he been there? What did he hear?
The greeting between the two men is glacial. Jake's jaw tightens as his gaze travels over Zachary's expensive suit, his designer luggage, his presence in a space where he doesn't belong.
"What are you doing here?" Jake directs the question at Zachary, but his eyes stay fixed on me.
The lie forms before I can second-guess it.
"I invited him." I keep my voice smooth. Practiced. The deflection rolls off my tongue with ease I don't feel. "Certain matters require either my presence in Manhattan or his presence here. Given everything happening, I decided his presence here made more sense."
Jake's displeasure barely stays hidden. His shoulders tighten. His hands curl at his sides.
"I see." The words carry frost. "And he's staying how long?"
"As long as necessary." I hold his gaze without flinching. "Can he be accommodated?"
The silence stretches. Jake's eyes move between us—measuring, calculating, reaching conclusions I'm not ready to face.
"The observatory." He says it like it costs him something. "It's the only space available with the girls here."
My chest constricts. The observatory. My private sanctuary. The place Jake maintained through all those silent weeks, waiting for me to return.
Now it will house the man who knows my secret.
"Thank you." I force the words past the tightness in my throat. "I'll show him the way."
Jake nods once, curtly, then turns and walks toward the stables without another word. His posture radiates tension that matches my own.
I grab Zachary's arm and pull him toward the observatory before either of us can make this worse.
The door creaks open on familiar hinges. Zachary steps inside, and his gaze travels across the space—the telescope, the star charts, the textbooks stacked in corners.
"This is remarkable." His voice carries genuine admiration. "You should build something similar in your penthouse. The views from your terrace would—"
"I'm not interested in Manhattan real estate advice." I cut him off, leaning against the doorframe. The exhaustion presses harder now, demanding acknowledgment.
The truth surfaces unbidden: I'd gladly stay here forever. Never see Manhattan again. Never return to the glass towers and board meetings and endless performance.
But I know I can't. The company needs me. The legacy demands it. The life I've built won't survive abandonment.
"There's food in the main house." I keep my voice flat. Instructional. "Dinner is at seven. The bathroom is down the hall. Shower, rest, do whatever you need to do."
Zachary sets down his luggage, watching me with those calculating eyes.
"And our conversation?"
"Tomorrow." The word comes out like a command. "You don't get to interrogate me tonight. I'm tired. You're jet-lagged. Nothing productive will happen if we try to hash this out now."
He studies me for a long moment. Something shifts in his expression—frustration giving way to something that might be understanding.
"Fine." He inclines his head, a small concession. "Tomorrow."
"For now." I push off the doorframe, ready to flee. "Get some rest, Zachary. You look like hell." I'm lying because he's as handsome as hell as always.
"So do you." His voice softens. Almost gentle.
I don't respond. Just close the door between us and walk toward the main house on legs that barely hold my weight.
The secret is no longer mine alone. Zachary knows. Maria knows. And somewhere in that conversation, Jake heard something—I just don't know how much.
The walls are closing in.
But tonight, I'm too tired to fight anymore.
I climb the porch steps and disappear inside, leaving Zachary in my sanctuary and my peace of mind scattered somewhere between Manhattan and Texas.