Morning sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows as Addison pressed her phone against her ear, her bare feet wearing patterns into the Persian rug.

“I can’t do this, Mom,” she whispered into the bright silence of the apartment. “What if he explodes when I tell him? What if he demands I terminate the pregnancy?”

“Then you’ll discover exactly who he really is,” her mother’s voice came through with fierce maternal clarity. “Stop catastrophizing and listen to your instincts, sweetheart.”

“My instincts are screaming conflicting messages.”

“What’s your heart telling you right now?”

Addison paused by the window, watching the city come alive below. “To tell him the truth. Face whatever comes.”

“Then trust that voice. You’re stronger than you think, honey.”

“Am I?” She turned away from the morning light. “I feel like I’m detonating a nuclear bomb in his perfect universe.”

“Maybe his universe needs detonating.” Her mother’s tone sharpened with protective fire. “Promise me you’ll call if you lose your nerve.”

“I won’t lose my nerve.”

“That’s my brave girl. Now go get ready for work and handle this.”

“I’ve been awake all night rehearsing this conversation.”

“Then rehearse it right. You deserve to be heard, Addison. Don’t you forget that.”

Her mother’s words echoed through the apartment as the call ended.

The morning had already exploded with elaborate theater—Black Chanel suit draped across her bed like armor, red-soled Louboutin pumps positioned with crystal vases transforming her dining table into a shrine of calculated romance.

Jaxon’s note was written in his precise handwriting: “Wear it to the bank today. I want to see you in all your beauty.”

Standing among the expensive, thoughtful gifts, Addison felt herself soften despite everything.

This was the caring, loving Jaxon she had originally fallen for two years ago. Attentive, generous, romantic. The man who remembered her favorite coffee order and sent flowers just because.

She remembered their early dates, how he had listened to her talk about Wyatt’s disappearance without judgment. How he had held her when she cried about feeling abandoned and worthless.

This is why she always stayed. This is the man who swept her off her feet when she was left broken.

Getting ready carefully, she applied makeup to hide the greenish tint from morning sickness. The concealer worked perfectly, and the suit fit like it was made for her body specifically.

Looking at her reflection, watching her hands tremble slightly she thought about how Jaxon knows exactly how to weaken her resolve. Expensive gifts, perfect romantic gestures, flawless attention to every detail that matters to him.

In the mirror, she looked stunning. Professional, elegant, expensive. Everything Jaxon wanted in a partner.

“Look like a success,” she told her reflection. “Like the perfect CEO’s girlfriend.”

Her phone pulsed with a new message.

Jaxon: Can’t wait to see you.

“We’ll see about that,” she muttered, staring at the ultrasound pictures scattered across her vanity like evidence of beautiful rebellion.

She tucked the images into her purse like hidden ammunition and stepped into the bank’s marble cathedral, anxiety built in her chest as she remembered yesterday’s text message.

The warning about avoiding the lobby between 2:15 and 3:00.

She glanced at her watch. It was only 10:30 in the morning.

“What was that even about?” she wondered, walking through the marble lobby toward the elevators.

The morning passed in controlled chaos as everyone prepared for the CEO’s unexpected early return. Security briefings, meeting schedules, damage control plans for the Singapore deal disaster.

“Mr. Wellington’s flight lands at two,” his assistant announced. “He’ll be here by 2PM for emergency board meetings.”

When Jaxon finally arrived, his face lit up the moment he saw her in his chosen outfit. The stress lines around his eyes disappeared, replaced by genuine warmth and desire.

“There’s my beautiful fiancée,” he said, crossing the lobby in quick strides.

She stepped into his embrace, feeling the solid weight of his arms around her. For a moment, the familiar comfort of his presence made everything else fade.

“Sir, emergency board meeting in conference room A,” his assistant’s voice crackled through the speaker with barely controlled panic. “Tokyo investors demanding immediate damage control.”

“Fucking hell,” he snarled, straightening his tie with violent precision that revealed the fury simmering beneath his polished exterior. “This crisis is consuming everything.”

“Jaxon, I need to tell you something that cannot wait until tonight.”

“Tonight, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her forehead like a benediction while his mind was already racing toward the elevators. “I promise my complete attention. Wear something devastatingly beautiful as you are.”

“But this is urgent,” she said, already following him down the elevators.

“Everything’s urgent. Tokyo nearly obliterated my reputation. Tonight, we celebrate our future.”

He vanished toward the elevators, leaving her isolated in the center of the marble arena where every surface reflected her solitary figure back at her in infinite, mocking repetition.

Marcus approached from his security station, his trained eye immediately cataloging her distress.

“Miss Blackhawk? You look distressed.”

“It’s fine. Everything is absolutely fine.”

“Mr. Wellington seems excited about something.”

“Excited. Right…”

That’s when she noticed them. Six figures approaching from different directions in the entrance, moving with coordinated precision and radiating danger.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

“What are you observing?” Marcus asked, following her gaze. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, reaching for his radio.

Oh my God… This is an armed robbery.

The first figure reached the entrance, raising his weapon.

“Everyone remains calm,” his voice boomed through the security system with the confidence of someone who had done this before. “This is a robbery. Follow instructions precisely and no one gets hurt.”