HANA finds out she’s on the breeding list AKA #Sorry-not-sorry.

Before Naomi could fabricate an answer, the conference room door opened and Grant stepped in, a self-satisfied grin plastered across his face, a Breeding Pass conspicuously presented in his hand.

"I'm so sorry, Hana," Naomi said, but the apology was void of empathy, replaced now with an almost malicious pleasure, even as in one fluid motion, her hand reached out and snatched the phone from Hana's grasp. Hana tried to grab it back but Grant interposed himself between the brunette and his woman. Naomi stood up and confidentially walked around the desk and sat herself down on a different chair, safely away from Hana.

"We need Yumi back here, for shall we call this, ‘breeding day’?” she said, “and you are her closest confidant and well, we can't have you returning to Japan all unbred and telling tales to head office."

Hana’s voice stammered as it often did when she was nervous, “Naomi-san, s-sorry,” she bowed “you don’t need m-me though,” she bowed again, “you have my phone, I promise I won’t t-tell Corporate anything.”

Naomi sat cross legged barely acknowledging Hana’s pleas as she idly deleted the draft warning message and began composing her own, “now why would I possibly take that risk? Come on now Hana. You should accept your fate; it is more dignified. You’re going to get seeded and that’s it.”

Hana’s breath hitched in her throat, her gaze moving from the card in Grant's hand to Naomi's expectant look. "B-but I’m engaged," she managed to say, her voice thin—pleading for some semblance of compassion where there was none to be found.

The Brand Manager’s next words hung in the air, cold and sharp: "Your fiancé doesn’t have to know,” Naomi cooed, almost mockingly, “unless, of course, you want him to. If you can make it back to Japan and your fiancé quick enough, he may never put two and two together,” Naomi smiled icily, “of course hopefully the baby takes after their mother." Grant nodded in agreement; the implication clear.