At noon that day, Adrian walked onto the executive floor of my company with Vanessa on his arm.

She wore red.

She carried one of the twins against her hip, and a hired nanny trailed a few steps behind with the other, and the whole floor of employees fell absolutely silent as the little procession passed.

“Clear out Claire’s office,” Adrian announced to the room, loudly, enjoying it.

“My future wife would like the corner view.”

The security director, a steady man I had hired myself, turned and looked at me across the floor, a question in his face.