Chapter 4

The apartment was quiet. Leo was asleep on the pull-out couch, Mr. Whiskers curled up at his feet. Briana had gone to bed an hour ago, but sleep refused to come for Helena.

She sat at the small kitchen table, the glow of her laptop illuminating her tired face. She was reviewing basic financial formulas, trying to brush up on the skills she hadn't used in four years. But the words blurred on the screen, her mind drifting back to a time when spreadsheets and balance sheets were her whole world.

Her gaze drifted to the side of the laptop, landing on a crumpled receipt from a pharmacy. It was from four years ago. A pregnancy test.

The memory hit her like a physical blow, pulling her under.

Four years ago. The tiny apartment she shared with Keven. It wasn't much, but it was theirs. It was filled with second-hand furniture and big dreams. But the dreams had started to rot.

Keven was sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. The phone was lying on the table, silent. He had spent the last three hours calling every investor in his contacts, begging for a lifeline for Nexus Dynamics. No one was biting. The company was bleeding cash, and the well had run dry.

He looked ten years older. The spark in his eyes was gone, replaced by a hollow, desperate exhaustion. He looked up at her, and the defeat in his gaze nearly broke her.

"I'm sorry, Hel," he had said, his voice hoarse. "I tried. I just... I failed."

Helena had stood in the bathroom doorway, her hand hidden behind her back. Her fingers were white-knuckled around the small white stick. Two pink lines. Positive.

She had wanted to scream with joy. She had wanted to run to him, tell him they were having a baby, that this was a sign, that things would get better. But she couldn't. Not when he looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff.

She had consulted a lawyer friend earlier that week, just to understand their options. The news had been grim. Her friend had explained that to secure the last round of funding, Keven had been forced to sign a personal unlimited liability guarantee. If Nexus declared bankruptcy, the creditors would come for everything. Their personal assets, their joint accounts, every penny they had would be seized. They would be buried in debt, and the baby would be born into a financial war zone.

She couldn't do that to her child. She couldn't let Keven make a reckless decision to protect them, only to lose everything he had worked for. He would give up the company for her. She knew he would. And he would resent her for it forever.

So, she made a choice. A choice that would cost her everything.

A few days later, she had placed the divorce papers on the kitchen table. Right next to his cold coffee.

Keven had stared at them, the color draining from his face. He looked at her, his eyes wide with shock, then confusion, then a dawning, horrific heartbreak. "Why?" he had asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Helena, why? Because I'm broke? Is that it?"

The words she had rehearsed felt like glass in her throat. "I don't want to be poor, Keven," she had said, her face a mask of ice. "I can't live like this. I'm tired of waiting for a ship that's never coming in."

She had forced herself not to cry. She had forced herself to look away from the devastation in his eyes. She had to make him hate her. It was the only way he would let her go. It was the only way he would sign the papers and focus on saving what was left of his company.

And he had signed. The light in his eyes had extinguished completely, replaced by a cold, dead void. He had packed a bag and walked out, leaving the apartment to her. It was the last thing he had.

Helena blinked, the memory releasing its grip on her. A tear slipped down her cheek, landing on the keyboard. She wiped it away roughly.

That lie-that she was a shallow, gold-digging coward-was the foundation of Keven's new life. It was the fuel he used to build his empire. He thought she had abandoned him because he was poor.

He had no idea she had left to protect their child. He had no idea that the moment the divorce was final, the very first thing she had done was sell the apartment he had left her.

She stared at the old receipt, her chest tight. He didn't know what she had done with that money. He thought she had taken the cash and run. He didn't know that her lawyer friend had helped her, for a steep fee, to route the funds through a specialized Swiss firm. They'd set up a shell corporation and an anonymous trust, a complex, untraceable structure designed for one purpose.

He didn't know that the money from the sale of that apartment-the only thing of value he had left her-had been the key to saving his company.

She shook her head, slamming the door shut on that thought. She couldn't think about that right now. She couldn't think about the debt she was still paying off, or the secret that was even heavier than Leo's existence.

She had to focus on the present. She had to focus on tomorrow.

She closed the laptop and rubbed her eyes. The past was a graveyard. She couldn't dig it up without unearthing skeletons that would bury her.

She stood up, walking over to the pull-out couch. She looked down at Leo, his face peaceful in sleep. She had to be strong. She had to survive.

She set her alarm for 6:00 AM. When it went off a few hours later, she was already awake. She dressed in the professional outfit Briana had lent her-a navy blazer and a crisp white shirt that was slightly too big in the shoulders. She pinned her hair back, applied minimal makeup to hide the dark circles, and looked at herself in the mirror.

She looked like a woman who had her life together. She just hoped she could play the part.