Month Two: Week Six
Isla couldn't hide it anymore.
At twelve weeks, the nausea was constant. The exhaustion obvious. The slight curve of her stomach starting to show.
And people were noticing. Whispering. Speculating.
"Mrs. Archer looks sick." "She's losing weight." "Maybe the stress is getting to her."
Better to control the narrative than let rumors spread.
She called a meeting. All lieutenants. Catherine. Key personnel.
Everyone who mattered.
"Before we begin," Isla said, standing at the head of the conference table, "I have an announcement. I'm pregnant. Twelve weeks. Due in late November."
Silence.
Complete, shocked silence.
Then Dmitri started clapping. "Congratulations, Mrs. Archer. That's—that's incredible news."
Others joined in. Applause. Smiles. Genuine happiness.
