Page 30 of Forbidden Boss

“I think I have to run,” I say, going cold. “I think I have to get away from him and disappear.”

“Do you think that will work?” she asks skeptically. “He doesn’t seem to be lacking any resources. If you run away, he’ll move heaven and earth to find you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, making up my mind with every word. “I can’t stay. You can only hide a pregnancy for so long.”

“Mari,” she says firmly. “Think about what you’re saying. You’re going to, what? Disappear in the middle of the night with no money and no resources and go where?”

“I’ll figure it out.” I shrug. “I’m scrappy. I’ve done it before.”

“You haven’t done this before.” She shakes her head. She stands up, going into crisis control mode. “You need to see a doctor and confirm the pregnancy first. Find out what you need to keep yourself and the baby healthy.”

I nod, realizing the wisdom in her advice. I don’t know anything about being pregnant. I should see a doctor and find out everything I can.

“I can try,” I say, and I hear how thin that sounds. “It’ll be hard to visit an OB-GYN without putting him on alert.”

“Just tell him you’re going to a doctor’s appointment. My gynecologist is part of the hospital. Nobody has to know who you’re seeing in the building.”

“Okay.” I nod again. “I’ll see a doctor and make a plan.”

“Yes, planning is everything,” she agrees. “If you’re going to do this, at least know where you’re going and have some money inplace. I would be a wreck thinking of you out in the world with no help.”

“You’re not going to try to talk me out of this?” I ask, wary.

“Who are you talking to?” She laughs. “I know you better than anyone, and I know how stubborn you can be when your mind is made up. I won’t stand in your way, but I want to know you’re safe.”

I lean in and hug her hard, grateful that someone is on my side. No matter what happens next, I’ll need her support.

14

LEV

Inotice it a week later. Mari’s paler. She moves with careful precision, slower to meet my eyes. In the time she’s been staying with me, she hasn’t once hidden her moods or her displeasure.

Suddenly, she’s clammed up.

She keeps her door closed and answers with one-word replies. She dodges whichever elevator I’m in and takes the stairs. She used to fight every guard detail I assigned. Now she lets them hover. It’s the compliance that sets off alarms.

At the penthouse, she times her exits. If I walk into the kitchen, she remembers something in her room. If I sit at the table, she eats at the counter with her back to me. When I ask how she slept, she says “fine” then walks away. She has tabs all over a ledger she’s re-auditing. She flips them like worry beads.

I’ve seen this pattern in others before. People go quiet when they’re planning to do something stupid. When they’re loud and boisterous, I know they’re full of shit. It’s when they go silent on me that I start to worry.

On Tuesday, Yuri sends me screenshots he’s pulled from her computer. She’s looking at job boards, remote roles out of state, apartment searches in Chicago and Austin. I tell him to widen coverage on her devices. He replies with the single dot that means it’s handled.

I try to be rational. She’s young. Living with me is pressure. Maybe she wants options. Then Thom sends me a lobby video. I watch as she leaves at lunch with Pavel, stops at a pharmacy, and comes out with a bag. Pavel’s face is pink. He also takes a ten-minute detour on the way back. I flag the route. The detour won’t happen again.

On Wednesday, she’s early to her desk and late to leave it. She’s distracted in the morning check-in, but her details are perfect when I press her, like she’s been practicing how to talk to me. At home that night, she stays in her room and doesn’t bother with dinner.

By Thursday, I’m done guessing. I step into her office without knocking. She’s clicking through wire transfers, a cold brew sweating on a coaster. She looks up, ready for a fight, but all the bravado leaves her when she sees it’s me.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she answers far too quickly, too defensively.

“Nothing,” I repeat slowly, making clear how little I buy her bullshit. “Is that why you’ve been looking for other jobs?”

She shrugs. “I’m just considering my options,” she says, trying for casual, though she looks even more nervous. “It’s suffocating working for you and living with you. Plus, this threat can’t last forever, right? At some point, I have to be able to move on with my life.”

She’s talking too fast, and the words sound rehearsed again. All the red flags in my head go up.