The lights were soft in the ballroom as the New Year gala began. Live musicians played in the corner, a rare sight and undoubtedly expensive. There were hardly any musicians for hire anymore after the arts were devalued by AI integration. Everyone gathered in cocktail attire. I wore a silky, midnight-blue dress with an open back and a slit high on my thigh. Derek was in a dark navy suit to match. At least fifteen round tables filled the room, seating ten apiece. We were surrounded by ViraRx’s most important people. Derek guided me with a hand on my lower back toward our table. Julius strode over as we found our seats.

  “You two look stunning. Ah—Derek, is that a touch of gray?” Julius teased, embracing his son.

  We’d been married four years. Lately, I caught Derek smoothing the lines near his eyes and forehead in the mirror. At thirty-four, three years older than me, a few silver strands were beginning to show. I told him it was just the stress of his job catching up with him.

  “Ha. Ha. At least I still have my hair,” Derek replied.

  “Well, just wait until the empire rests on your shoulders. We’ll see if those beautiful strands can resist the weight.” Julius turned to me, taking my hand and brushing my knuckles against his lips without breaking eye contact. “But Mia, you are a rose that never wilts.”

  “Must be in my genes,” I said with a cheerless grin.

  “How fortunate for you.” Julius smirked, his gaze drifting down the length of me, lingering on the faint pink scars streaking my exposed calf before releasing my hand. A voice from across the room summoned him. “Excuse me.”

  We watched him walk away, shaking hands with an investor.

  “You okay?” Derek asked.

  “Of course, darling.” I smiled disingenuously. “What have I to complain about?”

  I chugged my drink. Derek straightened with a heavy snort, making his disapproval known. I thrust my glass at his chest with more force than I meant to, and he fumbled it. He glared back at me.

  “Can you get me another, please?” I said, pitching my voice up, feigning ignorance. “And my pills.”

  “You know those two don’t mix,” he chastised. “What about your speech?”

  “I gave it to Micah.”

  “But you’re the lead of the department.”

  “Not anymore. I relinquished my duties. I don’t want to be a mentor to anyone.”

  “You took a demotion without even telling me?” His voice was rising.

  “Derek, you’re shouting,” I observed, low and even. His eyes bulged, triggered by the familiar mannerism.

  “Seriously? You have no idea what it took—you know what? Knock yourself out!” He shoved the bottle of sedatives in my hand and stormed off. I shrugged, tucked the bottle into my handbag, and turned toward the bar.

  I perched on a barstool and ordered the house red, the good stuff from Napa. It had a bittersweet taste that lingered—for multiple reasons. Memories. I almost spilled it as the bartender handed it to me, the liquid sloshing against the glass like tumultuous waves in the ocean, reminding me of our honeymoon on Orphan Isle.

  The boat rocked, knocking me against the rail as I stared out at the sea from the large catamaran.

  “Sorry, this is a lot rougher than I expected,” Daniela apologized. She had taken me out to see the whales with her crew. She was shorter than me but more rugged, sharing Ben’s dark hair and crooked nose. Her long braid hung to the middle of her back. Derek and I had arrived on Orphan Isle a few days after our wedding, checking into a makeshift bed and breakfast. Mrs. Marvin had planned our entire stay. She filled our days with tours shadowing islanders through their slower pace of life, outdoor sports, and a farewell party on our last day.

  “I’m fine,” I reassured her. “Derek’s the one who gets seasick. It’s a good thing he stayed behind.”

  “Oh? I thought the Dravos were invincible.”

  “Sure feels that way sometimes,” I said with a wry smile.

  “Well, don’t tell Mrs. M. She’s been working day and night on your itinerary. Your happiness is our top priority.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah! You two are the talk of the town. We don’t get many visitors here. And the Dravos, no less!” She rubbed her fingers together in the universal sign for money.

  I nodded. “That’s surprising. It’s beautiful here.”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, though? How we’re all uncivilized and low tech.”

  “Oh right, how do you get news from the mainland?”

  “We still have radio. Old receivers patched together from leftover tech. We’ve built a network across the globe. We’re not prisoners here. A lot of us choose to leave, and then we usually bring back whatever we can. Actually, my brother’s out there now. He got sick, and it was too complicated for our doctors here, so we sent him to the mainland. But he’ll be back.”

  “Ben-Benvolio Russo?”

  “You know Ben?” she asked, startled.

  I nodded, unfolding the handwritten note from my pocket and handing it to her. I watched her face harden as she read.

  “He died, Dani, I’m sorry… I know he fought hard,” I swallowed, trying to shift the lump forming in my throat. “He talked about you a lot. He said you were annoying, but he missed you like crazy.”

  She laughed, rubbing her eyes, “Yup, that’s Ben.”

  “When’s the last time you spoke to him?”

  “He was in the hospital. He didn’t say much, only that he would do everything to get better, and that he needed more money from the island fund.”

  I hesitated, weighing the next words, but I was already committed. “I’m a lawyer. I think you have a good case for malpractice if you want to sue.”

  “Sue? Who?” She half-laughed, eyeing me like I was crazy.

  “The company that treated him. They’re a subsidiary of ViraRx.”

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  She raised her eyebrows, nodding slightly. “Clever bastards. The Dravos just donated a hundred million credits to the island for your visit. We’re putting it toward hospital and school upgrades.”

  I cursed under my breath. Of course Julius would have thought of that.

  “Going against ViraRx wouldn’t be a popular move here. Too risky,” she said, shaking her head.

  “But if no one challenges them, they won’t stop,” I implored. Her expression in response held both anger and pity.

  “Well, you’re one of them now, right? Look, it’s not my job to absolve your conscience or risk everyone’s livelihood here.” She gestured toward the island. “My brother is dead, yes? He’s not coming back. We knew he was sick…and…I’m sure he knew the risks.” She sighed. “I appreciate the offer, but let’s keep this between us, okay?”

  I nodded, defeated once again. She left me on deck and went to steer us back to shore before the waves grew more turbulent. That was the last time I saw Dani. She avoided us the rest of our stay. When we returned home to Derek’s apartment, our apartment, I settled into my new role at ViraRx.

  “Miss,” Harry said, interrupting my reflections. “They’re about to start. You’d better find your seat.”

  I nodded with a small smile, shoving the pill bottle back into my handbag. I hadn’t realized I’d taken it out. I followed Harry back to the table where the Dravos were already seated. As we approached, I overheard Camellia say, “Of course she’s unhappy, dear. She wasn’t born to this world. Give her something more domestic to focus on. She would find great purpose in motherhood.”

  “She has purpose, Mother,” Derek shot back, straightening his spine. “She’s been an asset to the legal team.”

  “Well, her self-demotion and that bottle of pills she’s downing at the bar don’t exactly scream fulfillment.”

  “That’s enough, Cami,” Julius warned. “But if there is some other reason you’ve yet to conceive—”

  “Ahem.” Harry coughed politely. “They’re ready for you, sir.”

  “Thank you, Harry.” Julius followed him toward the stage, leaving me to saunter to my seat. Everyone at the table squirmed as I sat down. I pretended not to notice and chugged my champagne. When Derek turned to watch his father’s speech, I switched our glasses and finished his too. He gave me another disapproving look when he picked up his empty glass for the toast. I could feel the heat coming off of him as he silently fumed. The rest of the table, including Aria, her wife Brynne, and Camellia, whispered behind their glasses, stealing glances at me. I yawned widely in response. Derek’s jaw flexed, and there was a distinct hint of rouge in his bronzed cheeks. He was silent the rest of the night.

  It was past midnight when we returned home from the gala.

  “I made an appointment at Virilicy, the fertility clinic,” I said abruptly as we walked through the door. Derek froze mid-step, still loosening his tie. The door clicked shut behind him.

  “Why?” he asked, his voice too curious. Forced.

  “Because we’ve been trying to conceive for over a year now and we... haven’t.” I leaned casually against a barstool at the kitchen island.

  He walked over and grabbed my elbows, caressing my arms. “Is that what’s been bothering you? I thought we agreed we weren’t in a rush.”

  “Twelve months isn’t exactly rushing,” I said quietly.

  Derek sighed and sat down on the barstool next to mine. “Mia, you’re tired and drunk. This isn’t the right time to stress about it. You still have the ComVital merger to worry about, even if you did give up the lead. That lawsuit your buddies at GBLS brought against us is bullshit, but it won’t be an easy win.”

  “I know. But what does any of that have to do with us starting a family?”

  He gave me a look, concern wrapped in calculation. “Your role in this case is critical, Mia. You know their playbook. We need you focused.”

  “I am focused. But let’s not pretend I’m anything more than a decorative cog in a massive corporate wheel. This case will move forward, with or without me.”

  His jaw tensed. “This isn’t just a case. It’s the most important acquisition in ViraRx history. Millions, maybe billions, of lives will be impacted by this merger.”

  “And life as we know it will end,” I said bitterly, crossing my arms. “I don’t need a lecture. I’m doing the work. But let’s not pretend this is some noble crusade. You’re merging the ViraRx Life Technologies empire with the last public communication overseer. Once it’s done, ViraRx will have a foothold in every corner of human existence. Citizens replaced with subscribers. Instead of a system serving people, we’ll be people serving the system. And if ViraRx can do it, others will follow. That’s the world you want to bring children into?”

  His expression darkened. “Do you?”

  I shut my mouth. Derek was battling with himself, fighting for control.

  “I’m not doing this again,” he said finally, voice ragged. “You chose this path. You knew it was the right way forward.”

  “The only way.”

  “Exactly.” He stood, rubbing his face. “I’m not going to keep defending our choices to you. You’re in this too. Complicit.”

  “Fine. But does that mean you don’t want a baby, then?” My voice quivered unfamiliarly, fear and sadness folded into perfected origami.

  He sat back down slowly, the weight of the question pressing his shoulders. “I don’t know, Mia. Is it worth it? Maternal mortality has risen twenty-five percent. One in three pregnancies end in autoimmune collapse. These are serious risks.”

  I leaned against the counter. “Then what are we supposed to do?”

  He studied me for a moment before slowly releasing his words, like he was measuring them for fallout. “ViraRx is launching a new surrogacy initiative. Fertile women who are incarcerated, indebted, or those who just want to upgrade can volunteer for the subscription. Their debts will be cleared. They’ll have healthcare, housing, and education for themselves and their families.”

  Nausea crept through me as I stared at him.

  “Your plan is to exploit the most vulnerable women in society to restock your consumer base?” My voice trembled.

  “Yes,” he said coldly, gesturing to both of us. “We are.”

  Then he turned and left the room.

  Complicit, I thought.

  I stood there, breath caught in my throat, tasting bile.

  After our argument, Derek didn’t come back out of our bedroom. I slept on the sofa still in my dress. Morning came, and with it, our practiced civility, performing a happy marriage neither of us believed in.

  I spooned cardboard-like slivers of wheat cereal into my mouth. He leaned over and kissed my forehead as he straightened his tie, ready for the day.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  I smiled routinely. “Good morning.”

  He rifled through my handbag and pulled out the near-empty pill bottle. I held out my hand for my daily dose of numbness to help me through the day.

  Except—

  “How many of these did you take?” His hand shook as he waved the bottle in my face.

  I paused mid-bite, spoon hovering in the air. I shrugged. “You told me to knock myself out.”

  Then I resumed eating.

  “Damn it, Mia!” He slammed his palm onto the table, rattling my bowl, towering over my chair as he yanked it away from the table and angled it toward him. He leaned in, shouting and pointing. “LOOK AT ME! You’re alive, but you’re not living! You still haven’t chosen a side, and it’s killing you. This”—he shook the bottle in my face again—“is going to kill you!”

  My breath came fast. I held his glare, gripping my spoon tightly. My voice was steady and edged with contempt.

  “What are you talking about? I’m here. I’m doing the work. Dismantling every legal obstacle for your father. Asking you to expand our family. What more do you want from me?”

  I slammed the spoon on the table and pushed back my chair to stand, but he hardly budged. I pressed a hand against his chest as a warning. He grabbed my wrist—hard. I winced. His chest heaved, his lip quivering, muscles in his face contracting like he might strike me.

  “I want you to want to be here!” he barked, pulling me closer, his face now inches from mine.

  “So give me a reason,” I said through my teeth. My voice shook matching his rage. “That’s all I’ve been asking!”

  The anger in his eyes faltered. He released my wrist but kept a firm hold of my arms. He exhaled, tension rippling down his shoulders.

  “A baby isn’t a Band-Aid,” he said quietly. “It won’t fix what’s broken between us.”

  “Then what will?”

  He pressed his forehead to mine, his hands stroking through my hair. His voice softened to a whisper.

  “You have to forgive me. Us. All of this. I know how it sounds, but there’s no escape now. You’re standing next to me, but you’re not really with me. You need to fully commit.”

  “Submit,” I muttered under my breath. He ignored it.

  “I love you—I know I do—but this version of you scares me. I need you to care about being alive as much as I do. Otherwise… what was it all for?”

  He met my eyes and kissed me. I resisted automatically, pushing him away at first, but his arms only drew me closer. The kiss persisted—still gentle, patient—until my body melted into his. I kissed him back, forceful, desperate to feel something.

  He pulled away, victorious in my surrender, but his shoulders sagged. Exhaustion mingled with frustration, as if the weight of keeping me alive was dragging him down too.

  “Cancel that appointment,” he said flatly, averting his eyes. His face paled. He brushed past me and went to his office shutting the door hard.

  I sat back down at the table, staring at the murky milk in my bowl, individual wheat shreds now indistinguishable mush. I wasn’t hungry anyway.

  After a long moment, I cleaned up—then I got ready for my appointment.