Author's Preface
For one long, unbearable moment... No one spoke.
The conference room, so lively only seconds ago, had fallen into complete silence. Clara remained frozen in her seat, staring at Liv as though silently begging her to admit it had all been a joke.
Liv only smiled. "Go on." Clara looked around the room. Every pair of eyes was on her.
Editorial.
Marketing.
Finance.
Sales.
Production.
Foreign Rights.
Even the members of the executive board had turned in their seats. She swallowed. Then, almost against her own will, her gaze drifted toward the head of the table.
Zoren was looking at her. His expression was impossible to read. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't frowning. He simply watched her with the quiet attentiveness of someone waiting to hear the rest of an unfinished story.
For some reason... That made her even more nervous. Slowly, Clara rose from her chair. She tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear before offering the room a small, polite smile.
"My name is Clara Rodriguez." Her voice remained calm despite the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat. "I'm currently serving as Acting Editorial Coordinator for the Children's Editorial Division."
A quiet murmur spread around the room. "So she's Henrik's replacement."
"I heard she only started handling the position last week."
"She's the one Liv keeps praising."
Clara pretended not to hear any of it. One of the senior executives, an older gentleman seated beside Zoren, adjusted his glasses before speaking. "Miss Rodriguez," he smiled kindly. "Your department head seems very confident in your idea. I believe we'd all like to hear it."
Clara glanced briefly toward Liv. The older woman simply nodded. You can do this. Clara drew a slow breath. "I don't believe our biggest problem is declining interest in books."
Several people exchanged curious glances.
"I believe people still love stories." She paused. "They're simply consuming them differently."
The room grew quieter. "We've spent the entire meeting discussing how to preserve traditional publishing."
She looked toward the presentation screen displaying the declining sales graph. "But perhaps..."
"...we've been asking the wrong question."
Instead of asking how to protect printed books..."
"...maybe we should be asking how to make our stories easier to reach."
A few executives leaned forward almost instinctively. Clara continued. "We already own something incredibly valuable."
"The stories themselves. So why should readers experience them in only one format?"
She lifted one hand slightly as though organizing her thoughts. "Imagine every new release becoming available simultaneously."
"A printed edition."
"An e-book."
"An audiobook narrated by professional voice actors."
"And eventually..."
"...our own digital reading platform."
She could almost see it in her mind. Parents listening to stories while driving. Children followed highlighted words as they learned to read. Families reading together from different places.
"It wouldn't replace printed books," Clara continued. "It would strengthen them."
"We wouldn't be asking readers to choose between traditional and digital."
"We'd simply give them the freedom to enjoy stories however they prefer."
She looked around the room. "Parents are busier than ever."
"Some don't always have time to sit down with a physical book."
"But they can play an audiobook during dinner."
"Or while driving their children to school."
"Children already spend time on tablets."
"So why shouldn't we meet them there with stories that educate as well as entertain?"
She smiled gently. "Our business has never really been printing books."
"It's bringing stories to people."
"The format is simply the bridge."
Silence settled over the room once more. Only this time... It wasn't uncertainty. It was contemplation. Several executives slowly nodded to themselves.
Pens began moving across notebooks. Someone quietly typed notes into a tablet. Finally, a woman seated across the table spoke.
She was poised, impeccably dressed in an emerald-green suit, her dark brown hair perfectly styled. Director Nora Olsen. Head of Marketing.
"I appreciate the creativity," she said politely. "But building an application."
"Producing audiobooks."
"Hiring voice actors."
"Developing digital infrastructure."
She folded her hands neatly. "All of that requires a tremendous investment. Our sales are already declining."
"Shouldn't we focus on protecting our existing business rather than creating an entirely new one?"
Several executives nodded in agreement. It was a fair concern. Clara nodded respectfully. "I agree."
Nora looked mildly surprised.
"But innovation has always required investment." Clara continued calmly. "If we wait until the market changes completely..."
"...we'll spend even more trying to catch up."
She glanced toward the sales report once again. "The publishing industry isn't disappearing."
"It's evolving."
"If readers begin expecting flexibility..."
"...and we refuse to adapt..."
"They won't stop reading."
"They'll simply read somewhere else."
She paused briefly. "The question isn't whether change is expensive. It's whether standing still will cost us even more."
Silence followed.
This time... No one argued. Even Nora found herself considering the point rather than opposing it.
At the head of the table, Zoren slowly leaned back in his chair. His fingers rested loosely against the leather notebook before him, though he had long since stopped pretending to write.
He was watching Clara.
Not because she was beautiful. He had already established that days ago. Not because she was the mysterious woman from the club. He had spent enough sleepless nights thinking about that.
No.
This...
This was something entirely different. She wasn't speaking like someone guessing. She spoke with remarkable certainty. Almost as though she had already witnessed the future she was describing.
There was no arrogance in her voice. No desire to impress. No attempt to dominate the room.
She simply... believed what she was saying. And somehow... so did everyone else.
For the first time since taking over Nordlys Publishing, Zoren felt as though someone had stopped looking at the company's present... and started talking about its future.
Who really are you...? The question surfaced quietly inside him.
Because the woman standing at the far end of the conference table... was becoming more impossible to understand with every passing day.
---
The conference room remained unusually quiet after Clara finished speaking.
Several department heads had already started sharing opinions, their earlier hesitation turning into cautious interest. Some discussed production costs, while others talked about the value of expanding into digital publishing.
At the center of it all, Liv turned toward Clara with unmistakable pride shining in her eyes.
"I told you," she whispered with a warm smile. "You were the right person to bring into this meeting."
Clara let out a small, embarrassed laugh as she lowered herself back into her chair. "I think I just spoke far too much."
"You spoke exactly enough."
Liv reached over and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "I'm proud of you."
Heat immediately crept into Clara's cheeks. It had been years since anyone had looked at her with that kind of pride.
For one brief moment...
She almost forgot she didn't belong in this world.
Then...
"...Clara." The smile faded from Liv's face.
Clara turned immediately. "What is it?"
Liv pressed a hand against her stomach, her brows knitting together. "I..."
She inhaled sharply. "My stomach..."
Clara's expression changed at once. "What do you mean?"
"I think..." Liv whispered, her breathing becoming uneven. "It's starting to hurt."
Clara stared at her. A chill ran down her spine. "What?"
Liv swallowed, her face turning noticeably paler. "...It hurts."
Panic immediately flooded Clara's chest. "But you're only seven months."
Liv nodded weakly, one hand gripping the edge of the conference table as another wave of pain washed over her. "God..." Her breathing faltered.
Then suddenly...
Her eyes widened. "...Clara." There was fear in her voice now. "My water..." She looked down briefly before lifting frightened eyes toward Clara. "...I think my water just broke."
For a heartbeat, Clara froze. Then instinct completely took over. She stood so abruptly that her chair slid backward across the polished floor, the sharp sound cutting through every conversation inside the conference room.
Heads turned. The discussions stopped. Without another thought, Clara slipped an arm carefully around Liv's shoulders, helping support her weight.
She knew she couldn't handle this alone. She had to inform the executives. Which meant... She had no choice.
Her eyes lifted toward the front of the room. Toward the one man she had spent the entire meeting trying not to look at.
"Mr. Eikland..."
Her voice carried farther than she intended. The room fell completely silent. Zoren immediately looked up. His attention settled on Clara.
Something in her expression erased every remaining discussion inside the room. She wasn't embarrassed anymore. She wasn't avoiding him. She simply looked... serious. Urgent.
"Sir," Clara continued, trying to keep her voice steady despite the panic building inside her. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Mrs. Liv Andersen needs to be taken to the hospital immediately."
Every executive turned toward Liv. Only then did they notice how pale she had become. Zoren was already on his feet. His gaze shifted once, from Liv...
...to Clara, who continued supporting the older woman without the slightest hesitation.
Then he spoke. "Call an ambulance." His calm voice immediately restored order to the room. One of the security personnel acknowledged the instruction and hurried out.
The conference dissolved into controlled urgency. Several executives stepped aside to clear space while others quietly moved chairs out of the way.
Clara barely noticed any of it. Her entire focus remained on Liv. "It's alright," she whispered gently, adjusting her grip around the older woman's shoulders. "Just breathe."
Liv clung tightly to Clara's hand. "I'm scared..."
"I know."
Clara offered her a reassuring smile despite the worry in her own eyes. "But you're not alone."
Another contraction came. Liv shut her eyes tightly. Clara instinctively rubbed slow circles against her back, speaking softly, encouraging her to breathe through the pain.
"Look at me."
Liv opened trembling eyes. "That's it."
"Slow breaths."
"In..."
"And out."
"You're doing well."
Minutes later, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hallway as the emergency medical team arrived.
The paramedics entered quickly, assessing Liv before carefully transferring her onto the stretcher.
Even then...
Clara never stepped away. She remained beside Liv, answering questions the paramedics asked, helping steady her as they prepared to move.
When they wheeled the stretcher toward the elevator, Clara walked beside it without hesitation. Still talking to her. Still reassuring her. Still reminding her to breathe.
From the opposite end of the conference room... Zoren watched every second unfold.
Days ago...
She had thrown herself in front of a speeding car to save his son.
Today...
Without a second thought, she had become the calmest person in a room full of executives simply because someone needed her.
No hesitation. No performance. No expectation of recognition. Compassion seemed to come to her as naturally as breathing.
His jaw tightened slightly. The attraction he had been trying to dismiss over the past several days suddenly felt far more dangerous than simple physical desire.
Because now...
It wasn't only her beauty he noticed.
It was the woman beneath it.
After the ambulance left, Zoren quietly suspended the remainder of the meeting.
"We'll continue another day." No one objected. One by one, the executives and department heads gathered their belongings before quietly leaving the conference room.
Within minutes...
The room had emptied. Only Zoren remained. Slowly, he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the front entrance of the publishing house.
His hands slipped into the pockets of his trousers. Below, the ambulance waited near the entrance.
He watched as Clara carefully helped Liv inside, speaking to her gently the entire time. She never once looked around to see who was watching. She never sought acknowledgment. Her entire attention remained on the frightened woman beside her.
The ambulance doors slowly closed. Moments later, it pulled away from the curb. Zoren's gaze never left it.
Or rather...
Never left the woman standing beside it until the very last second. A quiet knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Sir." One of his executive assistants stepped inside.
Zoren remained looking through the glass for another moment before speaking. "Please bring me Ms. Clara Rodriguez's file."
The assistant blinked once, clearly surprised by the request. "...Ms. Rodriguez's file, sir?"
"Yes."
His answer was calm. Measured. "I'd like to review it."
"Right away, Mr. Eikland." The assistant gave a respectful nod before leaving the room.
Silence returned. Zoren remained where he was, his gaze fixed on the empty driveway long after the ambulance had disappeared from sight.
The whiskey should have been what stayed with him from the night they met.
Instead, it wasn’t.
It was her.
The woman with the quiet trace of vanilla.
The one who had crossed his path only twice yet lingered in his mind as if she had never left.