Chapter 5 Plan B

The beaming glow of the sonogram screen flickered across his face, his eyes locked onto the screen unblinking , trapped in the grip of the screen's silent command, as if he was caught in an invisible spell.

In a split of seconds, the world around him blurred into nothing as time seemingly suspended, leaving behind the steadfast pursuit of an elusive truth unfolding the story before him. Completely absorbed in his gaze, a beautiful smile tugged at his lips, plastering across his face.

Two years into the marriage, his wife was diagnosed with severe endometriosis, which has been a battle for them till then. This could only have been God!

Chief!

A name he was fondly called in the clinic a voice called, sharp enough to slice through his trance.

He blinked, startled back at reality. Dr. Olivia stood by the monitor, adjusting her glasses with a small smirk.

"Dr. Olivia," he said, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion.

She had once been a close contender for his heart after Audrey's death, before his parents insisted on Tasha. In a blink, she was engaged, swept away by Dr. Max. He signed quickly, moving past the memory.

"We ran a series of tests, urine and blood pregnancy, ultrasound, nuchal translucency, and NIPT. Everything points to one truth: your wife is pregnant." She winked with professional pride. "Her poise, her calm control in the room, reminded everyone why she was respected. "I suggest she takes leave from Constellar. Stress won't help now."

He nodded, glancing over at his wife, peacefully sleeping on the clinic bed. "We're truly grateful."

Days blurred into weeks. Weeks into months.

Tasha, the richest by virtue of being the heiress of Constellar clinic and her parents affluence, the pioneer of Team 3 being the biggest fan of the feminist activism before she got married; unlucky for her she married Greg,a man whose power eclipsed hers. He kept her orbiting around Constellar, controlling yet charismatic. Still, she knew how to bend him, when necessary.

As tradition dictated, Team 4 gathered on the last day of every month. Feminism, family, and lifestyle fueling their conversations. This month, the venue was Arial Luxury and Suites. A crucial meeting was in motion. Eve was unavoidably absent.

"Ah! Babe, that belly's huge, and you're just four months in," Roxanne exclaimed, concern etched into her expression. "I hate that you have to go through all this."

Tasha sat quietly, her makeup-free face serene. A simple maternity gown hung from her slender frame, her hair cascading down her shoulders, only a pair of gold statement earrings adding sparkle. The pregnancy had begun to show-visibly and emotionally.

Roxanne let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Just remember to keep that body snatched for Greg, so he doesn't start wandering like mine does every damn time I'm pregnant. Men!"

Known as the lioness of Team 3, Roxanne was bold and unapologetic. Her designer crimson gown flowed like molten silk, her makeup sharp and commanding. A federal judiciary figure, influencer, and a reluctant politician's wife, she had recently declared her plan to divorce. Her husband, threatened by her power, often barred her from joining Team 3 meetings. But these women were her anchor..

Their conversation paused as Isabella entered.

A quiet storm in designer Gen-Z flair, a cream oversized polo, tailored wide-leg jeans, delicate gold watch, and pristine white loafers. Her waves framed a soft face, her skin a blend of shades that had made her a top-tier model.

Years ago, when she got married to The Whites family, her husband had always thought that she was reserved and had a class lower than that of the whites. On one of the family dinners, she was introduced to Roxanne by her mother-in-law to properly sharpen her to fit into the image of the family. Her husband had always supported her journey into Team 3 and had become so proud of his wife and can now proudly address her as "The Whites" all in the name to prove to his parents that he never married below their standards. Yes! The women in the white family do not work, they enjoy the Men's wealth and must keep showing off their husband's wealth.

"Babes, you look breathtaking," they chorused, running their eyes in admiration over her.

"That's the point," Isabella smiled, raising her hand to flaunt her power ring. Her matte black nails spelled EQUALITY.

She dropped onto the plush couch, sighing. "So... Mr. Osama finally agreed to take Regan into the farmstead.

It sure sounded like a bombshell.

Roxanne flared. "Babes, you're spoiling everything! We agreed! You took the vow too, we all did.

Tasha's gaze dropped.

Earlier after discovering that Tasha was pregnant, they had planned to eliminate Regan to avoid issues.

"She wants elimination. Pure. Clean. Elimination," Roxanne hissed.

"Isn't that right?" She turned to Tasha.

Tasha gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod.

Isabella stood. "You're losing your humanity. What happened to your conscience?"

Her voice shook with quiet fury. "I won't be part of this. What if the police find out? What if he does not survive all of these? What if the Kidnappers sell him to someone else or even kill him? Don't forget, we are still mothers. And do we even know where Greg stands?"

Please let's rethink, there is always another option... A plan B ... let's think straight and act mature... We are still mothers by the way ... Come to think of it, if Greg finds out, I'm pretty sure we'll spend a night or two jailed.

Tasha was beginning to feel nervous as she had already started pacing up and down as the two others got heated up in their argument.

"Alright!!! That's enough!" Tasha snapped. "What if there's CCTV in here? Huh? Let's hear Isabella out."

A tense pause.

Let's hear Isabella out, what's plan B? she motioned them to come together .

Let's go to the car Isabella snapped angrily walking towards her car; A sleek 2025 Porsche 911 Carrera.

The women followed.

The Air conditioner in the car was helpful to calm the rising tension and pressure gradually mounting in the air.

Isabella reached under the seat, pulling out a folded plain broad sheet. Diagrams, sketches, arrows.

She spread it out. "This... is Plan B."

Their eyes locked onto the map.

"Roxanne already contacted the kidnappers," Isabella began. "Instead of killing Regan, we'll fake a kidnapping. He'll be taken to Mr. Osama's farm-isolated, remote. North of the East Coast. No trace. Nobody. No suspicion."

After a minute of silence, They, slowly nodded

It was a cleaner and safer plan.

They sat quietly for a moment, letting the weight of the plan settle.

And then, as if in ritual, Roxanne raised her glass of sparkling wine.

"To sisterhood," she said dryly. "May our secrets never see the light."