The summons came without warning.
Not from Keith.
From the board.
Jasmine learned about it through an email forwarded by her lawyer—subject line sterile, language polished to the point of menace.
Request for Clarification — Personal Matters Impacting Corporate Stability
She read it once.
Then smiled.
Keith hadn't just applied pressure.
He had lost control of where it went.
Keith stood at the head of the boardroom table, hands braced against polished wood, listening as questions circled him like restrained predators.
"No accusations," the chairwoman said calmly. "But there is concern."
"About my divorce?" Keith asked.
"About succession," another board member corrected. "And continuity."
Keith straightened. "There is no issue of continuity."
A pause.
Then the question—carefully framed, devastating in its simplicity.
"Are there any undisclosed factors that could affect inheritance structures?"
The room went still.
Keith felt it then.
The trap.
This wasn't about Jasmine directly.
This was about uncertainty.
And uncertainty, to a board, was poison.
"No," he said finally. "There are not."
The answer was firm.
But it wasn't confident.
Across the city, Jasmine sat with her lawyer in a sunlit office that smelled faintly of old paper and coffee.
"They're circling," the woman said, sliding a document across the desk. "Not legally. Strategically."
"I expected that," Jasmine replied. Her hand rested loosely over her abdomen, fingers relaxed. "What's the exposure?"
"If you remain silent?" The lawyer considered. "Minimal. But silence invites speculation."
"And disclosure?" Jasmine asked.
The lawyer met her gaze. "Then you control the timing."
Jasmine nodded.
Timing was everything.
That night, Keith received a notification he hadn't anticipated.
Legal Notice Filed — Private Injunction Request Pending
He opened it, pulse quickening as he scanned the language.
Restraining inquiry.
Protection of medical privacy.
Prohibition of third-party investigation.
His jaw tightened.
She wasn't running anymore.
She was drawing lines.
Keith tossed the phone onto the counter, pacing.
For the first time, he wasn't the one setting the agenda.
He was reacting.
Jasmine stood at her window as the city settled into night, lights blinking on one by one.
Her phone buzzed.
Keith.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she opened her calendar.
There, marked three weeks from now, was a single entry:
Decision Window Closes
She didn't yet know exactly how the truth would emerge.
Only that it would.
On her terms.
Behind her calm, something steady and unmovable had taken shape.
Not fear.
Not revenge.
Resolve.
And somewhere in a glass tower across the city, a man who had always believed answers belonged to him was beginning to understand—
Some questions could no longer be controlled.
And some futures were already moving without his consent.