Too Late For Regret, Mr. Booth

Elise Preston lowered herself onto the butter-soft leather sofa with the careful precision of a woman carrying eight months of pregnancy in her belly. Her breath hitched as the weight shifted, her lower back screaming from the pressure. She ran her palm over the swell of her stomach, feeling the distinct press of a tiny foot against her ribs.

"Easy, little one," she whispered. "Almost there."

She pulled the grainy ultrasound photo from her coat pocket-she'd looked at it maybe two hundred times since this morning's appointment. Three perfect heartbeats had filled that darkened room with sound. Three. The technician had laughed, said it was the most active set of triplets she'd seen all year. Elise had cried in the parking garage afterward, alone, because Callum hadn't answered his phone. Again.

But he would come. He had to come. She'd left three messages. She'd said it was urgent. She'd said she needed him.

The mahogany double doors swung open without warning.

Elise's head snapped up, her heart leaping into her throat. "Callum?"

The name died on her lips.

Jaida Powers stepped through the doorway like she owned the air itself. Ten inches of red-soled Louboutin clicked against the marble floor, each step a calculated assault. Her platinum Birkin swung from one manicured hand, and when she reached the center of the room, she let it drop.

The bag hit the glass coffee table with a crack that made Elise flinch.

"You're not supposed to be here." Elise's hand moved instinctively to shield her stomach. "This is a private floor."

Jaida laughed. It was a sound Elise had heard before-at gallery openings, at charity functions, always from across crowded rooms where Callum stood too close to this woman and explained it away as old friendship. Family connection. Obligation.

"Private?" Jaida reached into her bag and withdrew a thick envelope, cream-colored, heavy stock, the kind that carried legal weight. "Nothing's private when it comes to Booth family business, Elise. You should know that by now."

She tossed the envelope. It skidded across the glass surface and stopped inches from Elise's knee.

Elise didn't touch it. She didn't need to. The words were already visible, embossed in black, screaming up at her: DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.

Her lungs seized. The room tilted. She heard her own breathing, too loud, too fast, rasping in her ears like she was drowning in open air.

"Pick it up." Jaida moved closer, her perfume-something sharp and expensive-filling the space between them. "Sign it. Or don't. It doesn't matter. Callum's already signed. His lawyer filed it this morning."

"You're lying." The words scraped out of Elise's throat. She pressed her hand harder against her belly, feeling the frantic flutter of three heartbeats against her palm. "He wouldn't. Not now. Not when-"

"When what?" Jaida leaned down, her face level with Elise's, her smile showing too many teeth. "When you're about to pop? Oh, sweetie. That's exactly why. Callum doesn't need you anymore. He needs the babies. And once they're