MasukEmily’s POVThe dining room is packed again tonight, the warm glow of candlelight bouncing off bronze-toned plates and clay serving trays. The last week of my ancient Roman themed menu has turned the restaurant into a little amphitheater of flavors, and I should be proud, I should be energized, but
“You talked,” I repeat, narrowing my eyes. “Or you dodged.”“Both,” he admits quietly.“At least you are honest about that.”He huffs a humorless laugh. “We agreed to go to therapy. Together. And individually.”My eyebrows lift. “You did.”He nods. “We need it. I need it. Emily suggested it and I ag
Barrett’s POVThe wedding binder on my lap weighs at least twelve pounds, but it feels lighter than the stress sitting in my chest. My nurse, Becky, left the mansion not even an hour ago after doing my routine check, and she gave me that pointed look she has perfected over two decades.“Your blood p
Madelin’s POVThe farm has a way of softening the edges of my mind. Maybe it is the quiet, or the wide sky, or the fact that Jack never asks me questions faster than I can answer them. For the past few days, we have settled into a rhythm. He brews coffee at dawn; I attend my telehealth therapy after
Jonathan’s POVI never realized how loud paper could be until I spent a couple days drowning in it. Stacks of documents, ledgers, bank statements, wire transfer logs, shell company registrations, private emails, fake signatures, burner phone records. All of it spread across my desk in a chaotic sea
Inside the mansion, we part ways with a soft goodbye. I head to the sitting room where Barrett is reviewing onboarding forms for some new security detail, sipping coffee that smells like cinnamon. He looks up when I enter.“Charlotte, good,” he says. “I wanted to speak with you.”I am already on edg







