Mag-log inMadisonThe drive unfolded exactly as expected. Ethan monopolized the conversation from his car seat, bouncing between topics with the attention span of someone who'd consumed pure sugar for breakfast. "Do you have a throne?" Ethan asked suddenly. Alexander glanced in the rearview mirror. "A throne?" "Yeah! All kings have thrones! Big gold ones with red cushions!" His hands gestured wildly, nearly knocking Mr. Whiskers off his lap. "I have an office chair. Does that count?" "Does it have gold on it?" "No." Ethan's face fell. "That's not very king-like. You should get a real throne. With jewels!" "I'll take that under advisement." "What's advisement mean?" "It means I'll think about it." "Oh." Ethan processed this, then moved on without missing a beat. "Do you have a crown?" "No crown either." "What kind of king are you?" Ethan sounded genuinely concerned now. "You need a crown and a throne. And probably a sword. Do you have a sword?" "Afraid not." "This is terrible! You
MadisonI opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. She was right. Part of me did hope Alexander was genuine. That this wasn't just some billionaire whim that would fade the moment things got difficult or inconvenient. "I should get ready," I said instead. "What are you wearing?" I glanced down at my pants and t-shirt. "Something more presentable than this." "Good plan." Hazel grinned. "Can't show up to an amusement park looking like you just rolled out of bed." "I did just roll out of bed." "Exactly why you need to change." Ethan burst back into the kitchen, Mr. Whiskers clutched in one hand. "I'm ready!" "You can't go like that," I said, fighting back a smile. "We have to shower first." His face scrunched up. "But I already took a bath before the party!" "That was yesterday. We need to get cleaned up before our big day." I held out my hand. "Come on, baby. Quick shower, then we'll get dressed." "Alright." He grabbed Mr. Whiskers tighter and trudged back toward the guest
MadisonI stepped into the hallway, my thumb hovering over the screen. Answer it. Don't answer it. Throw the phone out the window and change your identity. I swiped to accept before I could chicken out. "Hello?" "Madison. Good morning." I gripped the phone tighter. "Alexander." "I wanted to ask you something." "About what?" "The amusement park. I mentioned it last night." He paused. "I'd like to take you and Ethan. Today, if possible. Tomorrow, if you need time to prepare." The amusement park. Right. He'd mentioned that at the party. "I don't know—" "Before you say no, hear me out." His words came faster, like he was worried I'd hang up. "Ethan would love it. Kids his age, rides, games. It would be good for him. And it would give us time together. All three of us." Silence stretched while I tried to organize my thoughts into something resembling coherence. The café needed me. Mom needed me. I had responsibilities, obligations, a carefully constructed life that didn't inclu
MadisonTwenty minutes later, Alexander pulled up in front of Hazel's building. The doorman glanced up from his post, then looked away when Alexander killed the engine. "I'll carry him up," Alexander said. "That's not necessary." "Madison." He turned to face me. "Let me help." I wanted to argue, but Ethan was dead weight, and I was exhausted. "Okay. But just to the apartment. Then you leave." "Deal." Alexander climbed out, opened the back door, and carefully extracted Ethan from the seatbelt. Ethan barely stirred, just shifted slightly, and mumbled something about cake. I led the way into the building. The doorman nodded as we passed, his expression carefully neutral. The elevator ride was mercifully short. Hazel's apartment was dark when I unlocked the door. I flipped on a small lamp, creating just enough light to navigate without waking Ethan. "Guest bedroom," I whispered, pointing down the hall. Alexander followed, moving carefully through the unfamiliar space. The guest
MadisonI sat at the table, surrounded by party noise that felt too distant, too muffled. The music played. People laughed. Normal celebration sounds that had nothing to do with the war happening inside my skull. Anthony's words kept replaying. Everyone makes mistakes. Moving forward matters more than staying stuck in the past. But what if moving forward meant getting hurt again? What if letting Alexander near Ethan, near me, near this life I'd built meant risking everything I'd fought so hard to protect? The party blurred around me. I watched Ethan across the room, still with Alexander, both of them examining something on Alexander's phone. My son's face was lit with excitement, his hands gesturing wildly as he explained something to Alexander, who listened with rapt attention. They looked natural together. Right. Like pieces of a puzzle I'd been refusing to complete. That terrified me more than anything. *** The party wound down eventually. Ethan had crashed hard around nine,
MadisonOliver blew out the candles to cheers and applause. The cake cutting commenced, servers appearing with plates and forks. Alexander approached with Ethan still on his hip. "Someone's getting tired." "I'm not tired!" Ethan protested, even as he yawned. "I'm just resting my eyes." "Of course you are," I said, reaching for him. "Come here, baby." "No! I want to stay with King Alexander!" Ethan burrowed deeper into Alexander's arms. "He's warm and tall and tells good stories!" "Stories?" I raised an eyebrow at Alexander. "Just some stuff about buildings and engineering. Kids are fascinated by how things are built." "Like skyscrapers!" Ethan's energy returned briefly. "Did you know they have special foundations that go really deep?" "I did know that," I said. "He knows everything about buildings. He's so smart!" Ethan's head drooped again. "Can we visit his kingdom now? I'm ready to count floors." "Not now. Maybe another time." Alexander's hand rubbed soothing circles on







