LOGINWe did it. đ¤ Alexandra finally got her happily ever after. After everything. Thank you so much for giving this book a chance and staying with me until the very last page. As a writer, I canât fully describe how much that means to me. For the past four months, Alexandra and Jacob have lived in my heart, and somehow they found a home in yours too. Thank you for showing up chapter after chapter, laughing with them, crying with them, getting angry with them, and loving them even when I put them through absolute chaos. To every single reader who left a comment, shared a theory, sent gifts, voted, or simply read quietly in the background, thank you. Every bit of your support mattered more than you know. Before you go, I have one small favour to ask. Please take a moment to return to the bookâs main page and leave a âââââ review. It may seem like a small thing, but reviews make a huge difference. They help new readers discover Alexandra and Jacobâs story, keep the book visible, and r
đ¤Alexandrađ¤He led me through the garden toward the rose garden at the far end of the estate. The one my Dada had planted years ago, before I was old enough to have opinions about roses, back when this house was louder and fuller and dadaâs laugh was still a sound that existed in the world. Papa had never changed the flowers. He said some things deserved to remain exactly where love had left them. White roses and pink ones and soft red ones that Dada had always insisted looked happiest together, which was the kind of opinion only someone who genuinely loved things could have about flowers.When we reached the centre of the rose garden I stopped.The children were already there.All four of them, standing in a row with the uncharacteristic stillness of people who had been specifically asked to be still and were making their best effort. Mitchell beside Caleb. Papa under the roses instead of the oak tree, his newspaper gone, his hands folded in front of him. Jen, who never came to ga
đ¤ Alexandra đ¤I had always believed that love came with a price and the biggest fallacy of all time.That was the first thing life taught me. If someone loved you, eventually they would leave. If they did not leave, they would be taken. If they were not taken, they would betray you. Love was temporary. Loss was permanent. For years I had built my entire life around that belief. Every company I built, every decision I made, every wall I put up, every sleepless night I worked through, every version of Alexandra Fisher Hale that the world feared had been constructed by a woman who simply refused to lose again.And then Jacob Grey happened⌠he forced his way into my life in the most craziest manner and sincerely I am grateful he did. His obsession gave me my babies and they mean the world to me.That was the part nobody in the self-help books warned you about. Not the first time love arrived, which was something people wrote entire libraries about. The second time he came into my life
đ¤Jacobđ¤I had never been this nervous in my life.Which was a significant statement given the life I had lived. I had walked into a building where a shooter was waiting. I had survived things that should have produced a permanent immunity to nerves.And yet.I was standing outside Papaâs study door in the Fisher Hale estate at ten in the morning, unable to knock.What if he said no.What if he looked at me across that desk and said no, and then I had to walk back out of this house and tell Lex, and the whole careful, improbable, extraordinary thing we had been building for the past several weeks collapsed because the man who had raised her also means the world to her and lost his partner to my sisterâs plan decided that Jacob Grey had already cost this family enough.What if he hated me.The man had never sat at the same table with me since I moved myself into this house.But not eating meals with someone was different from handing them your daughter.I knocked.âCome in.âPapa wa
đ¤Jacobđ¤Dear lord~~~ how can she be this cute when she was angry.I knew better than to say that out loud. I had learned, over the time of living inside the Fisher Hale estate with varying degrees of official invitation, that there was a specific list of things you did not say to Alexandra Fisher Hale, and âyou look cute when youâre angryâ was somewhere near the top of it, probably right below âyou remind me of your father when you do thatâ and âare you sure you need all seventeen of those files.âSo I said nothing and watched her pace the kitchen the following morning while the coffee brewed and the children ate breakfast with the cheerful obliviousness of people who were five years old and had more important things to think about, like whose turn it was to pick what they watched after school.âI donât want the properties,â Lex said.âOkay,â I said.âI donât want the money.ââOkay.ââI donât want anything that has Stellaâs name attached to it.ââOkay.âShe stopped pacing and looked
đ¤Alexandrađ¤âMy intention was to kill your children.âI said the words out loud, alone in the living area, because hearing them in my own voice made them real in a way that watching Jacobâs face while he told me had not quite managed.Stella Grey had intended to kill my children. All of them.Not as a side effect. Not as collateral. As a strategy. A calculated coldly reasoned strategy in which four five year old human beings were a variable to be eliminated in order to produce a faster result from their father.Stella Grey had looked at those four children in her mind and decided they were useful leverage.âFuck Stella,â I said, to the empty kitchen. âI hope you rot in hell.âIt came out with more venom than I expected, which told me something about the distance between how I had been processing this situation intellectually and what was actually sitting in my chest underneath all the intellectual processing. I had spent two weeks thinking about Stella Grey with the careful, complic
đ¤ Alexandra đ¤ *Five years later* âMommy we are hungryâ Papa said it before I even entered the living room properly. I stopped mid step. Slowly turned my head. And there he was. Sitting in his wheelchair like some royal troublemaker who had discovered comedy as a coping mechanism. He had his
đ¤ Jacob đ¤Yesterday changed something. I donât say that lightly. I am not a man who wakes up and suddenly believes in emotional shifts or invisible bonds forming out of nowhere. I deal with facts. Results. Consequences. But what happened yesterday, the attack, our deep conversation, the way Alexa
đ¤ Alexandra đ¤I donât even remember when I fell asleep.One minute I was in the car, forcing my mind to stay sharp, forcing my body to keep up like nothing had happened, and the next⌠everything just went quiet.Now the first thing Iâm aware of is my body. My stomach twisted in a way that made it
đ¤ Alexandra đ¤The car had barely cleared the next intersection when something felt off. The kind of wrong you donât ignore if you plan to stay alive.I straightened slightly in my seat, my eyes moving toward the side mirror, then the rear view, taking in the cars behind us, the ones ahead, the mo







