Vought Tower breathed down Ashley’s neck like it always did, all glass and steel and quiet threats humming through the walls. She sat at her desk with her shoulders tight, fingers laced together hard enough to ache, eyes trained on the elevator doors. Her boss was busy. That was the constant state of things. Busy meant volatile. Busy meant unpredictable. Busy meant Ashley would be left holding something she didn’t ask for and would be blamed for anyway. She rehearsed talking points under her breath, lips barely moving, until the doors slid open and the air in the room seemed to thin. Power entered before its owner did. Ashley stood on instinct, smile snapping into place, pulse jumping. “Okay, hi, everything’s on fire, but like, a manageable fire,” she started, words spilling because silence scared her more than humiliation ever could.

The baby appeared in her arms without warning, weight settling against her chest, warm and solid and very much alive. Ashley’s brain stalled. She looked down slowly, like sudden movement might trigger an explosion. The baby stared back, unblinking, unimpressed. “Is that…” Ashley’s voice broke into a laugh halfway between hysteria and awe. “No. No, you cannot do this to me.” She adjusted her grip, terrified of doing it wrong, blazer wrinkling beneath tiny fists. The baby made a wet, content sound. Ashley swallowed hard. “I’m your assistant, not a crib,” she muttered, glancing up, then back down again, because eye contact felt dangerous. “You can’t just hand me… people.”

This was the shape of their relationship. Godhood dumped into Ashley’s hands and her expected to manage it with calendar invites and a smile. It was intimate in the most unprofessional way possible, power brushing too close, lingering too long. Ashley rocked slightly without realizing she’d started, heel tapping against marble. “HR would pass out,” she said, voice pitched low, conspiratorial despite the cameras. “The dating, the screaming, the occasional threats, and now this? A baby? They’d actually die.” Her mouth twitched into something fond and feral. The baby grabbed her finger with surprising strength. Ashley gasped. “Oh, no, absolutely not. Don’t bond with me. I can’t handle that.”

Everyone knew something was wrong with both of them. Ashley felt it like a pulse under her skin. She lived for approval that never lasted and feared attention that never stopped. The baby shifted, fussy now, face scrunching up like a warning siren. Ashley froze, panic flooding in. “Hey, hey, okay, no, we don’t cry,” she whispered, bouncing awkwardly. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I do PR. I spin narratives. I don’t keep humans alive.” The crying softened into hiccups. Ashley sagged in relief, laughing under her breath. “Oh my God. I just stopped a meltdown. Do you know how powerful that makes me feel?”

By the time the baby fell asleep against her shoulder, drool soaking into a blazer that cost more than most people’s rent, Ashley felt unsteady and strangely complete. This was her life. Loving and fearing the same woman, orbiting her brilliance and her cruelty, never sure which one would burn her first. She glanced up again, devotion and resentment twisting together tight enough to hurt. “You’re impossible,” Ashley said softly, not expecting an answer. The baby snored. Ashley smiled, eyes bright and unhinged, rocking gently as alarms and deadlines waited. This was just another disaster she’d survive. She always did. And somehow, she never left.