April - New York - Steele Industries

Three days later, Angel put on a blazer and heels and took the elevator to the executive floor. Victoria had left a terse “see you at 9am” in her inbox, but when she stepped into the glass-and-steel lobby, it was Lena who greeted her and brought her to a guest area.

Lena smile was tight and cautious. “Ms. Valentine, you look stunning today,” she said, her gaze flitting nervously over Angel’s inked skin peeking from beneath her blazer and the daring cut of her skirt.

Angel arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on her lips. “Just call me Angel. And you look great too. I bet your closet is packed with these sharp numbers.”

Lena nodded, her shoulders easing slightly. “If you’d like, we could set up an office for you here. Mark mentioned I should extend the offer... indirectly.”

Angel chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I appreciate it, really, but I think I’ll pass for now. I’m still getting the hang of this whole corporate thing.”

Lena’s expression shifted to one of understanding, and she gestured for Angel to follow her. They walked past sleek glass partitions adorned with abstract art, the hum of office life buzzing around them. Mark hadn’t done much redecorating so Angel was familiar with all of it.

As they reached a cozy guest area, Lena motioned toward a low table where colorful brochures were spread out, showcasing Steele Industries’ latest initiatives and projects.

“Here’s some reading material,” Lena said. “You might find it interesting.”

Angel picked up a brochure, glancing at the glossy images and bold headlines, a smirk playing on her lips. “Looks like you’ve got quite the empire here.”

Angel leaned forward, her fingers tracing the edge of a glossy brochure outlining Steele’s ambitious Green Energy initiatives. “So, Lena, have you seen the projections for our solar panel rollout? Mark’s really pushing for a greener Steele Industries. I think it’s about time we made an impact beyond just profits.”

Lena nodded. “I’ve been tracking the numbers. It’s impressive—especially considering how much we’ve neglected sustainability in the past.” Her voice was steady, but Angel sensed the tension simmering beneath the surface.

“How long have you been CFO now?” Angel asked, leaning in slightly. “Mark’s mentioned your work more than once. He thinks you’re incredibly competent.”

A flicker of pride crossed Lena’s face, quickly replaced by a guarded look. “Just over three years. It’s a demanding role, but I enjoy the challenge.” She glanced away, as if the mention of Mark had cast a shadow over their conversation.

Angel noticed the shift and decided to take a chance. “You know, I get it. You and Mark had… something before. It’s okay; I’m not threatened by it.” She motioned toward an empty interview room nearby. “Why don’t we chat in there? I promise I won’t bite.”

Lena hesitated, then followed Angel into the small interview room, the door clicking shut behind them.

“You know about that?” she asked, her voice low and the color draining from her face.

“Of course. It’s hard to miss the way he talks about you,” Angel replied. “Honestly, someone like Mark might need more than one woman in his life, though I prefer he didn’t.” She grinned, hoping to lighten the mood.

Lena let out a small laugh, the tension easing just a bit. “That’s a unique perspective.”

“Speaking of perspectives, I heard you’re into romance novels,” Angel said, shifting the conversation. “I’ve seen some of your favorites in Mark’s library. They’re surprisingly… steamy. But I don’t know if I would actually read and dog ear a first edition copy.”

Lena’s cheeks flushed slightly. “That sounds like something Mark would say. They’re a guilty pleasure. I mean, who doesn’t love a good escape into a world of billionaires and grand gestures?”

“Exactly!” Angel said. “There’s something so satisfying about watching a powerful man crumble when faced with genuine connection. It’s like a fantasy where love conquers all.”

“It’s not just about the wealth, it’s the emotional vulnerability that gets me,” Lena admitted, her eyes lighting up. “Seeing those characters grow, learning to open up… it’s refreshing.”

“It’s refreshing to see someone who seems untouchable realize that they can be weak and accessible,” Angel said, leaning forward. “It makes you believe that genuine connection can change everything.”

Lena chuckled. “And who wouldn’t want to trade their daily grind for exotic locations and lavish lifestyles? It’s a nice break from the everyday stresses.” Lena smiled, her guard lowering further. “And let’s be honest, there’s a certain appeal to the idea of security. In a world full of uncertainty, the thought of a partner who can provide safety and comfort is… well, it’s kind of comforting.”

“Totally! It taps into that deep-rooted desire for stability,” Angel replied. “It’s like the ultimate fantasy where you don’t just find love, but also a sense of protection.”

Lena’s eyes brightened as she added, “And it’s empowering too! The female lead often challenges the billionaire, setting boundaries and influencing his transformation. She’s not just a damsel in distress; she’s a force in her own right.”

Angel grinned, feeling the camaraderie grow. “It’s really all about balance. Those stories show that love doesn’t mean losing yourself; it means growing together.”

“Wow, I’ve never really thought about it like that,” Lena admitted, her smile widening. “You’ve got a knack for this thing. Maybe we should co-write a romance novel or something!”

Angel laughed. “Now that’s an idea! Who knows? We could create a whole new genre!”

Angel leaned closer, sensing a bond forming. “You know, I’d love to share recommendations. We could start a little book club—just the two of us. You’re important to both Steele and Mark, and I want to be friends.”

Lena studied Angel’s face. “I’d like that. It’s nice to have someone to talk to who gets it. I mainly lurk on Romance forums and write some fanfic in my spare time.”

“Great! Let’s make it happen. But first, let’s focus on making Steele Industries a better place, shall we?”

Angel winked, feeling a spark of camaraderie as they stepped back into the bustling atmosphere of the executive floor.

They headed toward the meeting room, their heels echoing softly against the polished floor. Angel glanced at Lena. She wore a confident expression, her posture exuding authority that matched her role as CFO.

As they moved closer, Angel's presence wrapped around Lena like a gentle breeze. The scent of her perfume mingled with a hint of sweat—a raw, authentic musk that stirred memories within Lena.

Angel, too, couldn’t help but notice Lena’s allure. The tailored suit hugged her curves perfectly, and the confidence in her stride deepened Angel’s desire to connect. She longed to showcase the transformation within her, yet revealing the truth of her body swap felt impossible.

For a fleeting moment, Angel felt the urge to lean in and kiss Lena. But just then, the doors swung open, drawing them back into the whirlwind of business and the presence of old men in even older suits.

April - New York - Steele Industries

The boardroom was a stage set for conflict, a battleground of wills and ideologies. Mark stood at the helm, flanked by Victoria’s sharp-eyed scrutiny and Jane Temple's steely resolve. Lena occupied the seat to his right, her posture poised yet alert, while Angel lounged at the far end, absorbing the tension.

Jane launched her assault with precision. “You want us to divert 30% of growth capital into Green Energy? At these dismal rates?” Her voice dripped with skepticism, each word a calculated strike.

Mark remained unyielding, arms folded, his expression carved from granite. “We don’t have a choice. We’re not getting a second planet, Jane. The stakes are too high.”

A sly smile flickered across Jane’s lips. “Cute. But the world runs on returns, not sentimentality. You’re asking us to gamble our profits on a fairy tale.”

Mark’s voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and unwavering. “What good are returns if nobody’s left to spend them? A thriving economy requires a livable world.”

A murmur rippled through the room, even the old-money stakeholders shifting in their seats, unease etched on their faces.

Victoria seized the moment, her tone assertive as she outlined the proposed strategy. “We’ll pivot our investments towards sustainable technologies. It’s not just about compliance; it’s about leadership in an evolving market.”

Lena supported her claims with a flurry of data, her numbers crisp and compelling, weaving a narrative that painted a future where profit and responsibility could coexist. Angel observed the dynamic between Mark and Lena, a synergy that resembled a pair of sharks gliding through murky waters, now infused with an unexpected layer of empathy.

As the meeting progressed, Angel found herself captivated by Lena’s every move—the way she articulated her points, the subtle bite of her lip before she spoke, and the fleeting glances she cast at Mark.

When the vote was called, Mark’s motion passed by the narrowest of margins, a single voice tipping the scales. Jane’s glare could have sliced through glass, but the new order was established, and the tide had turned.

As the attendees began to filter out, Mark approached Angel, his demeanor softened. “Thanks for coming,” he said sincerely.

She shrugged. “It was worth the show.”

He held her gaze, a flicker of nakedness breaking through his corporate armor. “You made me sound… human. In your edits.”

Her eyes fell to the floor, a shy smile creeping onto her lips. “Because you are.”

In a fleeting moment, Mark brushed his fingers against her cheek, a gesture so delicate it almost slipped away unnoticed.

Lena strolled toward them, a radiant smile lighting up her face as she basked in the victory of the vote. Angel watched Lena’s expression closely, searching for any hint of lingering jealousy, but all she saw was triumph.

“Great job in there,” Lena said. “We really turned things around.”

Angel took a step closer, her pulse quickening. “Thanks. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, and for a brief moment, Angel considered revealing everything—the swap, the transformation, the awakening of emotions she never expected. But something held her back, leaving her standing on the precipice of connection, unsure of which way to leap.

April - New York

The private clinic was done up to look like a spa but it had the same sterile odor Angel remembered from every hospital urgent care visit in her old life.

She sat on the crinkling paper of the exam table, feet swinging off the edge like a sulky twelve-year-old.

The doctor clicked the door shut behind her and sat with the practiced intimacy of someone who could get through a pelvic exam and a five-minute therapy session in a single go.

“Did I piss on the wrong stick?” Angel said. “Or is it lupus?”

The doctor’s mouth twitched. “It’s not lupus. You’re pregnant.”

There was a beat. Then another, longer.

Angel squinted. “Sorry, I don’t speak TikTok. Like... actually pregnant? Or the ‘could be’ kind?”

The doctor slid the ultrasound across. There, in a dim gray blob, pulsed a tiny, insectile heartbeat.

“Congratulations,” she said, with the same affect as a cashier bagging onions.

Angel stared at the screen, then at her own stomach, still flat, still defined. It was like looking at a magician’s trick—a rabbit yanked from a hat, only the rabbit was a parasite and the hat was her uterus.

The room started to tilt. She gripped the edge of the table, the paper ripping under her nails.

The doctor kept talking, something about weeks and trimesters, a probable conception in December last year, hormones and next steps. Angel heard it from underwater. She watched the grainy, gummy bear on the monitor, watched it flutter.

The door creaked open again.

Mark, ducked in, hair perfect, tie askew, a cup of hospital coffee in hand. “They called me,” he said, voice a little too loud. “Something about an emergency?”

Angel wanted to claw his eyes out.

The doctor stood, professional as ever. “You must be Mr. Steele. I was just confirming the pregnancy—”

Mark nearly dropped the coffee. “What?”

Angel didn’t wait. “You fucked up,” she spat. “You fucked up, and now I’m... ” She couldn’t say it.

Mark looked at her, then at the monitor, then back at her, horror and wonder in his expression. “Are you…?”

“Apparently!” Angel shouted.

The doctor excused herself, stage left.

Mark set the coffee down with shaking hands. “You’re pregnant?”

Angel nodded, tears springing up but instantly vaporizing from pure rage. “How? I haven’t... You were in there, you... ”

“I always used protection,” Mark said, voice dropping, “I swear to god, I never... ”

Angel jabbed a finger at him. “Bullshit. Was it that biker? Or did you just get drunk one night and forget?”

Mark’s face reddened. “No. I didn’t.”

Angel’s hands trembled. “Then who? Who, Mark? Who the hell did you let fuck my body?”

Mark opened his mouth, closed it. He paced the room, arms crossed tight. “Maybe… it was you,” he finally said, eyes locked on the floor. “That night, before we swapped.”

It took a moment. Then it hit.

“Are you saying... ” Angel’s voice broke. “That I did this to myself? But I was wearing a condom and you’re on the pill.”

Mark nodded, helpless.

Angel started to laugh, but it came out as a dry, animal sound. “Fuck. Fuck. That’s some Greek tragedy shit.”

The silence grew fat and awkward. Finally, Angel said, “I want a DNA test.”

Mark flinched. “You think I don’t know?” His face was stone. “It’s yours, Angel. It’s always been yours.”

That brought Angel up short. The room felt smaller than before. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, protective, not sure if she wanted to break it or shield it from the world.

Mark came closer, tentative. “What do you want to do?”

Angel shook her head. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

There was another beat, this one loaded.

Mark’s tone softened. “Whatever you decide, I’m here. For you, for the kid, all of it. Even if you hate me.”

Angel didn’t answer. She was watching the heart on the monitor, how it fluttered on without a care. She wondered if it would grow up to hate her, too.

Later, when Angel cornered Mark in the hallway and said, “I need to go back to London for a week,” his immediate response was not No, but Why.

“Personal stuff,” Angel said, her voice all practiced indifference. “I want to see Ruby, Simone, the rest of the girls. Maybe check on the flat, close it out.”

Mark eyed her. “And Tom?”

Angel’s face didn’t move. “Maybe.”

Mark’s jaw clenched, the muscle flickering under his skin. “Fine. But take security. Victoria will lose her mind if you get papped with a biker gang.”
Angel smirked. “Relax. I’m not an idiot.”

April - New York to London - Angel and Mark

The moment Angel’s flight was in the air, Mark made arrangements to follow her in his private jet. He landed at Farnborough five hours behind, armed with a duffel bag and the kind of paranoia usually reserved for ex-spooks.

Mark had his chauffeur park discretely outside the old flat. Watched as Angel came out an hour later, helmet in hand. She mounted her Honda and tore down the street, weaving between traffic like she was born in the lane.

Mark followed at a polite distance. He watched Angel cut through the city, Soho then out toward Shoreditch, always in motion, never staying put.

Angel parked outside a trendy restaurant with too much glass and not enough privacy. Mark hung back, watched as Tom Blackwood arrived—on foot, for once, jacket slung over his shoulder, boots dusted from the road.

They hugged. Not a perfunctory, cheek-to-cheek London hug, but a proper, arms-around, squeeze-until-something-cracks hug. Angel’s hands lingered at Tom’s waist; Tom’s hand cupped the back of her head like he was grounding them both. Mark felt a weird little twist in his stomach. He hated it.

After a minute, Angel led Tom inside. Mark waited fifteen, then walked in himself. The place was all exposed brick and unfinished cement, no tablecloths, everyone staring at their phones. He found them at a window table, Tom already halfway through a pint, Angel picking at a salad she clearly didn’t want.

Tom spotted Mark first. His eyes narrowed. “So you’re the suit.” Angel didn’t even seem surprised that he was there.

Mark offered a hand. “Mark Steele.”

Tom’s grip was crushing. “Tom.”

Angel gestured between them, her own smile brittle. “Tom, Mark. Mark, Tom. Now you’re both introduced.”

The three of them sat, silent. Tom’s presence filled the space. Mark suddenly felt smaller than usual.

Angel broke it. “I have something to say.”

Tom cocked his head, waiting.

Angel licked her lips. “I’m pregnant.”

Tom’s glass froze an inch from his mouth. “You’re... ” He set it down, hard. “You’re sure?”

Angel nodded. “Saw the scan. Little blob and all.”

Tom went pale, then flushed red. “Congratulations,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Is it... ?”

Angel met his eyes. “It’s not yours.”

Mark realized his own fists were balled in his lap.

Tom gave a short nod. “Good. I mean... not good, but you know.”

Angel put a hand on Tom’s. “I’m happy you’re here.”

Tom swallowed. “You deserve a real family.”

Mark couldn’t help it: he looked at Tom’s hands, the roughness, the way they could break bones yet hold him (her) gently. He—no, she—remembered the feeling of being lifted by them, of being protected. Was his new life good enough to forego all that?

He shook it off. “Thank you for meeting us,” Mark said, polite as a funeral.

Tom looked at him, right through him. “Take care of her,” he said. “She’s not as tough as she pretends.”

Angel squeezed Tom’s hand. “I’m tougher than both of you.”