Mark spoke first, outlining the potential in a bankrupt company with undervalued assets. But my mind drifted off and somehow landed on Saanya’s composed attitude since our airport encounter.

  Her husband had been murdered only a month ago.

  Shouldn’t she be sobbing in every corner?

  What was expected of a grieving wife? I tried to put myself in Saanya’s shoes. How long would I mourn Ethan?

  My husband-to-be, with his tousled golden hair and Old America pedigree, didn’t need my money or reputation—our union was as much about image as convenience. Ethan’s born-without-a-care ease balanced my pragmatism, though his impulsiveness often left me feeling off-balance.

  Five years into our relationship, we’d decided to marry, not for need but for appearances. It would bolster my standing in the male-dominated business world, adding stability and tradition to my image. I didn’t need protecting in the least, but the climate in the U.S. was grittier than ever, and so, when he insisted, I’d agreed.

  And still, even if he was far from perfect, at least I knew Ethan cared for me.

  Manish, Saanya’s late husband, remained an enigma. Sid had described him as dismissive and indifferent to her desires. Perhaps his death had freed her?

  I heard a throat clear, and refocused.

  “Right. Risks?” I said.

  Drew, one of my lead strategists, unmuted his microphone. “Their biomedical patents are gold, Naomi, and their CEO’s neck is exposed. I say we step in and snap their heads off now.”

  Snap?

  Trust Drew to bring the morbid commentary.

  “Christ, Drew. Lay off Game of Thrones, would you?” Mark cut in. “I still think we should wait, Naomi. They have a pending lawsuit which should reach a verdict within the next thirty days.”

  “You have a point there, Mark,” I said. “What about their assets? I need a breakdown. And these patents?”

  Six hours passed in rapid succession.

  My Mergers & Acquisitions Director spoke as I slipped on my reading glasses and opened the last envelope on my to-do-by-the-end-of-the-day pile—a note Helga had handed me the night before.

  Miss Naomi,

  I hope this finds you well. I’m writing to remind you that I’ll be away. I must travel to Grindelwald to care for my ailing mother. I have three months of accumulated vacation time I’ll need to take. In my absence, my daughter Lea will take over my duties. Don’t hesitate to put her to work—she may look like a spring flower, but she’s strong!

  Regards,

  Helga Baumgartner.

  Remind me? She never told me.

  As if I needed more thrown at me right now.

  When I picked up my cell phone for the first time since this morning, I saw Ethan’s unread text and looked at the time.

  6:00 p.m. in Switzerland, which meant it was noon in New York.

  I made a mental note to call him tonight.

  And this housekeeper situation. I dreaded having to bring this Lea person up to speed. That was another task for Allison. Just thinking about it gave me a headache. I truly hated having strangers in my house⁠—

  Oh.

  Saanya.

  I had completely forgotten about her.

  The sun was already dipping behind the Alps.

  “All right. We’ll discuss Company C tomorrow. For now, let’s prioritize Companies A and B. Mark, Leticia, Angelina—good evening.”

  When I emerged from my office, it was almost 6:25 p.m.

  This wasn’t supposed to be a vacation. Sid had asked me to keep her safe, yes, but also to be…a friend.

  I headed for the kitchen and found her by the glass doorway, staring out at the garden. Still. Rigid. Like she was bracing for something.

  My mouth twitched. Wait. There’s no way she…

  “You did leave the kitchen at some point today, didn’t you?” The words slipped out.

  She turned and looked at me for a moment.

  “No,” she said, eyebrow raised. “Thought I’d meet you for lunch, but somehow it morphed into dinner.”

  “I—”

  What?

  Her lips curled up.

  I felt my cheek twitch. You little…

  “Of course I left the kitchen,” she said.

  The surprise of being caught off guard—and in my own territory—irked me. And yet…

  Take a deep breath, Naomi. Remember, this is Sidharth’s little sister.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You forgot I was here, didn’t you?”

  Ridiculous.

  “I was in and out of meetings all day,” I said. Not quite an admission but not a denial either. Perhaps I should have told her the truth: Yes. I forgot you were here, you insolent little thing.

  Just as I was dealing with my guest, Helga trotted into the kitchen and turned it into a swamp, leaving muddy, wet—puddles all over my kitchen floor!

  Ugh.

  How am I supposed to survive another three weeks of this?

  Helga’s dinner platter was adequate, if a bit simplistic for my taste.

  I cut a small piece of fish while, across from me, Saanya idly toyed with a broccoli floret. It wasn’t just culinary dissatisfaction. Something was off.

  “So,” I said. “How was your day? Managed to explore the house?”

  She hesitated. “Yes, it’s a beautiful place. Very spacious.”

  I narrowed my eyes slightly. The conversation felt stilted, forced.

  I knew so little about her. Despite having been around during my early years of friendship with Sidharth, she had always been the little girl flopping around and gushing about pop stars.

  Now she was a primary-school teacher. A choice that still puzzled me, given the empire she was meant to inherit alongside Sidharth.

  Saanya shifted in her seat, her face pale—almost gray—as she struggled with each bite. My initial irritation dulled into a begrudging concern.

  “Are you all right? You look a little…”

  She stood up abruptly, clasping a hand over her mouth and clutching her stomach.

  “Excuse me, I need to—oh—” she barely said, and rushed to the bathroom.

  I sat there, momentarily stunned. The distant sounds of distress made me shudder. Oh, I could deal with anything head-on, but vomit just folded me.

  Still, I couldn’t just ignore her and call it a night, could I?

  I stood up and followed, pausing outside the bathroom door.

  “Saanya? Are you all right in there?”

  I pressed my lips tightly together. The very thought of what might be happening on the other side….

  I felt Helga’s insipid fish turn inside me.

  There was a pause before Saanya’s weak response. “I’m fine, just a bit of an upset stomach.”

  Her voice was muffled, but I caught the word “rest” somewhere in there.

  “All right. Rest, then. Let me know if you need anything.”

  I let myself off the hook and walked back to the dining room.

  But something nagged at me.

  Should I have left her to handle it alone? It didn’t sound like a simple upset stomach.

  I glanced at my watch. Best to clear these plates, then make that call to Ethan.

  Sitting in my office, I glanced at the glass wall, which offered a clear view of the rest of the house. As Ethan talked about his latest failed attempt to beat his father at golf, my eyes caught a wobbling figure heading for the stairs.

  I straightened. “Ethan, I have to go.”

  I set the phone down and hurried toward her. “Saanya, wait.”

  She lurched forward, one hand gripping the railing, knuckles white. Her body swayed before she found some balance.

  I reached to steady her—then stopped. My hand hovered midair before curling into a fist.

  She didn’t notice, and I wasn’t sure why I didn’t help her.

  “You should sit,” I said. The last thing I needed was to return my best friend’s little sister broken and admit it happened on my watch.

  Saanya shook her head, still clinging to the rail, face ashen. “No, I...I need to get upstairs.”

  I followed her into her bedroom. I knew exactly what she needed.

  Back in the kitchen, I called Allison, wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear. “Allison? You sound half-asleep.”

  “It’s three p.m. in New York.” She yawned. “We’ve switched to your time zone, Naomi.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, your executive staff at least. We live during the night and sleep during the day.”

  Efficient as ever.

  “Listen, I need that concoction recipe you make for Ethan’s migraines—the one that settles his stomach.”

  I sifted through the cupboards. “And remind me to thank Helga for her ever-so-thoughtful grocery choices.” Surströmming, really? Apparently the woman treated fermentation like a passport stamp. It’s banned on airplanes for good reason. No offense, Sweden. “Which reminds me—Helga’s daughter, Lea, will be filling in. Brief her on my essentials and ensure she looks after my guest. Whatever she needs—food preferences, schedules, the works. Oh, and have her handle entertainment as well. I won’t have time for that.”

  I could hear Allison typing. “So, I’m turning Lea into your stand-in hostess?”

  “While I work, yes. I can’t put my life on hold 24/7 just to play around.”

  I pulled out a can of hákarl, which basically consisted of fermented Greenland shark, notorious for its strong ammonia smell and pungent taste.

  “Noted and… noted.”

  I sighed and hooked my hands on my hips. “What am I even looking for, Allison?”

  “Right.”

  She gave me a list that started and ended with two simple ingredients: water and ginger. Everything in between was unfortunate.

  “Oh, and Victoria Hale called,” Allison said.

  “Victoria Hale. Who is that?”

  “Thera Corp’s CEO.”

  I remembered her late parents as the head figures. Her tenure as CEO had been so inefficient. “What does she want?”

  “She pleaded for a meeting with you. Said something about needing a lifeline, a way to save what her parents built. She was nearly in tears, talking about how much the company meant to her family, and now she’s watching it fall apart.”

  I had no intention of keeping Thera Corp whole, in the least. That company was worth far more in pieces. Besides, salvaging wasn’t my trade. What did she think I was? A bank? But you don’t show all your cards to your rivals. Might make them reconsider.

  “Arrange an online meeting. And, as we’ve done so far, no mention of my whereabouts.”

  “None. To anyone.”

  I sniffed the brew and recoiled. “Good God, Allison. Are you sure this is safe to ingest?”

  “Ethan’s alive, isn’t he?”

  Well. “That he is.”

  I stirred Allison’s miracle, filth-filled cure and ended the call.

  Upstairs, Saanya stood by the open window, framed against the starry night.

  “Fresh air might do you good,” I said.

  Saanya turned. “I’m absolutely worn down.”

  “You’ve been at this for more than an hour. Of course you are. Here,” I offered the cup. “This should help.”

  She eyed it warily. “Oh, Naomi. This smells awful. What is it?” She squinted slightly. “Are you trying to poison me?”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Because that would solve all my problems,” I said, and Saanya, still with her pasty face, let out a small laugh.

  At least I amused her. In any case, I’d have to tell Sidharth that his little sister had indeed died on my watch, but that she’d gone in high spirits.

  “It’s effective. Trust me.”

  Saanya held my gaze for a moment, a faint gleam flickering in her tired brown eyes. I was asking for trust—but not the kind that usually warranted such a look.

  She took a tentative sip, grimaced, and inevitably dashed to the bathroom.

  Again.

  Thirty minutes later, I was still in the armchair, legs crossed, fighting a yawn. Damn jet lag. At least she’d made it upstairs without christening my Persian carpet.

  When she finally emerged, she looked utterly drained. “God,” she muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead.

  I sat forward. “Do you want me to call a doctor? We could go to the hospital.”

  “No. I’ll be fine,” she said, patting blindly for the bed before sinking onto it with a small huff. “Maybe if I just sleep it off.”

  Her eyes closed mid-breath. She was out in seconds.

  My gaze drifted to the blanket draped over the armchair. For a moment, I considered covering her but decided against it. Too personal. Too involved. If she got cold, she could get it herself.

  With one last look at her sleeping form, I left the door ajar and retired to my bedroom. The least I could do for Sidharth was to leave my own door ajar too.

  At fifteen past five, I was already awake. Thirty minutes behind schedule and utterly exhausted, but my routine was non-negotiable.

  The first light of day had just begun to bleed across the icy mountains when I caught a scent. Warm. Sweet. Spiced.

  Heaven.

  I followed it into the kitchen, where I found Saanya by the window, holding a teacup in both hands.

  The calm, almost reverent way she moved contrasted sharply with my own approach to the morning. While I sought to invigorate my body with exercise, Saanya seemed to find solace in the quietude of the early hours.

  Despite appearing meticulously dressed in a silk kurta and jeans, her posture and the slight slump of her shoulders gave her away. She hadn’t slept.

  “You’re up early,” I said.

  She glanced over her shoulder, a faint smile on her weary face. “Good morning. I hope I’m not in your way. I couldn’t sleep much. Thought I’d make some chai.”

  “Ah, so that’s what it is.”

  “It’s masala chai, actually.” She poured herself another cup. “Fancy a cuppa?”

  “Where did you find the ingredients? Surely it couldn’t have been in this apparently Nordic wormhole of a kitchen pantry.”

  Saanya’s smile was faint but warm. “Well, you had milk. The spices I brought from home. I like to make my own mix.” She motioned toward the pot. “And thankfully, you also had this relic in your cupboard.”

  The traditional Indian chai pot, with its slightly tarnished exterior and well-worn handle, had instantly caught my eye when I’d entered the kitchen—one of the few tangible links to my mother I had left.

  When Saanya set the steaming cup in front of me, it was like walking headfirst into a memory. A scent I hadn’t smelled in years. A sensation crept in—sharp, disarming, familiar.

  I stood and walked to the counter, flicking the coffee machine on.

  When I returned with a steaming cup of coffee and slid the chai to the side, Saanya raised a brow but said nothing.

  She cleared her throat. “I see we are both early risers.”

  Her eyes raked over my workout clothes.

  “Hm.” I wrapped my hand around the warm coffee cup. “I doubt you indulge in Pilates. Yoga, perhaps?”

  “Usually. I skipped it today.” She took a small sip of her chai and pointed outside. “Can’t skip this though.”

  Warm sunlight was slowly lifting over the garden.

  “So,” I said. “How do you feel?”

  Saanya shrugged. “Like absolute rubbish.”

  “Any idea what’s causing it?”

  She hesitated, then looked into her cup. “I’ve been feeling sick for a week now. Nauseous mostly. But never like last night.”

  A blush crept up her cheeks. “I hadn’t actually...been sick.”

  She sipped again, slower this time, but a few swallows later, her lashes fluttered. Her lips parted in a breath.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, leaning forward. “Again?”

  She nodded, eyes closing as if willing the nausea away.

  “My offer to call a doctor still stands. It’s no trouble, Saanya.”

  A surge of guilt rose at the thought that I’d made her feel so unwelcome she’d rather be sick than be a burden.

  She gave me a tight smile. “I’ll be fine. It’ll pass.”

  Something about the way she said it gave me pause. Sidharth had told me she’d lost her husband just a month ago. She was still in mourning—of course her appetite was off. And yet…

  Her clothes, though modest, traced a noticeably slender waist. Flat stomach. No bloat. No softness. Nothing that should’ve pointed to…that.

  Except—

  Could she really be?

  No. That would be a cruel twist of fate.

  “Saanya,” I said gently, “is there any chance you might be pregnant?”

  She looked up sharply. Her brown eyes widened—first in confusion, then in quiet, horrified understanding.

  What a tragedy indeed.

  3

  OH BABY!

  SAANYA

  Trust the queen of directness to tilt my world on its axis.

  As Naomi raised the possibility of pregnancy, the room spun. Her words pressed in, smothering me.

  I was three weeks late. A freezing wave washed over me.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  Clutching the table for support, I tried to steady myself. My face went numb. My knees buckled.

  Naomi’s eyes widened, her hand instinctively reaching out—then stopping midair. “Are you all right?”

  Years ago, under vastly different circumstances, I’d made a promise to myself. I’d vowed never to bring a child into a world as unstable as mine.

  A child.

  I lifted my gaze, my throat too tight to speak.

  Naomi searched my eyes. “Water?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Please.”

  My hands trembled as I brought the rim of the glass to my lips. “I…can’t. I need…air…”

  “Okay, Saanya, you need to calm down.”

  Oh, she had no idea. “This...” I inhaled through my nose. “…is calm, Naomi.” I blew out slowly.

  I fixed my eyes on the garden, green and open beyond the glass doors. Oxygen. “Do you have lavender here?” I asked abruptly.

 

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