Operating purely on instinct, Jules nodded and said, “All right. Be right back.” Her voice contained only its usual helpful inflection. Then she was walking past her own desk, grabbing her purse as if in a dream, and standing in one of the gleaming elevators that would take her down to the lobby, from which she would walk to the streets, which would look the same as they always did, and…

Holy. Shit.

It made sense, even if Vivian was kind of…old for this at forty-two. The exhaustion, the nausea, the—whatever else. Jules didn’t know much about being pregnant, all things considered.

But she’d had a pregnancy scare herself in her senior year of high school. It had been the worst forty-eight hours of her life before her period had finally shown up. Was Vivian feeling anything like that? Surely not. She was a grown woman worth millions, not a scared kid afraid of missing college.

Who was the father? Was it Robert’s? It had to be Robert’s. Because wouldn’t Jules have noticed by now if Vivian was sneaking around? Vivian couldn’t possibly be very far along, and Robert had bolted so recently. Apparently he’d loved her and left her. Asshole.

The closest Duane Reade drugstore was half a block away. Jules frantically scanned the “family planning” aisle. There were several tests available, each one claiming to be the best on the market. Jules had a feeling that Vivian would be even less patient about this than she was about everything else, which meant Jules had to decide fast. So she grabbed two boxes: one promising 99.9% accuracy! and another proclaiming Doctor Recommended!

Christ. If Vivian was pregnant, if the kid was Robert’s, what would that mean for the divorce? Surely they’d halt it or at least delay it or—

It wasn’t her problem, she tried to tell herself, waving her pass at the night security guard when she passed back through Koening’s revolving door. Vivian’s private life wasn’t her problem, and she wasn’t going to concern herself with anything about it.

She kept telling herself this until she arrived back at Du Jour and saw Vivian whirl around from the window to face her. Trembling, Jules set the plastic bag down on the desk.

Vivian glanced at it, sat down, and began working on her laptop again without another word. Jules gulped and headed back to her desk. She’d never be able to concentrate on her book now, and she hoped Vivian would send her home soon. Surely she would because of course she’d want to go home herself and…

All of a sudden, there was a flurry of movement. She watched in speechless horror as Vivian stormed past Jules’s desk and into the private restroom, the pharmacy bag clutched in one white-knuckled hand.