Away from everything

The Waldorf’s elegant lobby seemed to stretch endlessly before Elara as she made her way to Serena Blackwood’s private office. Her mother-in-law had deliberately made her wait in the reception area for over an hour, a power play she recognized all too well.

Each minute that ticked by sent her anxiety spiraling higher, her hand occasionally drifting to her still-flat stomach for comfort.

Finally, Serena’s secretary emerged. “Mrs. Blackwood will see you now.”

Elara stepped into the opulent office, where Serena sat behind a massive mahogany desk, not bothering to look up from her papers. Another five minutes passed in tense silence before she finally deigned to acknowledge Elara’s presence.

“Sit,” Serena commanded, her voice as cold as the marble floors beneath them.

Elara perched on the edge of an uncomfortable chair, her back straight, refusing to show weakness. “What is this about, Serena?”

“Paris, 2019.” Serena slid a manila folder across the desk. “Does the name Marcus DuPont ring a