LOGINEdward's Point of ViewThe knock came at exactly the time I had scheduled it.I had learned over the years that punctuality was one of the first things that told you about a person. About how seriously they took what they were doing. About whether they understood that your time had value.Marcus was punctual. He always had been.He came in and closed the door behind him with the quiet efficiency of a man who had learned that certain conversations required that kind of care. He stood across from my desk. Dark suit. Straight back. The face of someone who had spent years doing difficult things and had made peace with all of them."Everything is moving as planned," he said.I looked at him."He should be behind bars within the next few days," Marcus continued. "The agents have what they need. The documentation we arranged has been placed correctly. The inquiry is accelerating."I leaned back in my chair slowly."Good," I said. "I want it fast. No delays. No procedural slowdowns." I held h
Janet's Point of ViewGrandma's hands were shaking.Not violently. Just that small, barely visible tremor that appears when someone is trying very hard to hold themselves together and the effort is showing at the edges.She was sitting in her chair. The one she always sat in. The one with the worn armrests that she had refused to replace for years because her husband had bought it. She was sitting in it now with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes very bright and her face doing the difficult work of staying composed."It's allegations, Grandma," I said. I sat close to her. Close enough that my knee was almost touching hers. "Nothing has been proven. Nothing. These things happen with companies of that size. People make accusations. Investigations happen. It does not mean guilt."Grandma looked at me."You really believe that?" she said. Her voice was thinner than usual."I do," I said. And I meant it. Whatever Rowan was, he was not a man who cut corners with money. "I believe in h
Janet's Point of ViewI read the article three times.The first time my eyes moved too fast. Skipping over words. Catching only the large ones. Rowan. Tax. Government. Inquiry.The second time I slowed down and made myself read every sentence properly. Government agents from the tax revenue service had been seen at Rowan's company building that afternoon. Multiple sources had confirmed their presence. The situation was described as still unfolding. But an insider had spoken to the paper and said that Rowan had been unable to satisfactorily answer the questions put to him by the agents.The third time I read it I was looking for something specific. Something that would tell me this was exaggerated. That the paper had stretched a routine visit into a headline because routine visits don't sell papers.I didn't find it.I set the newspaper down on the cushion beside me.Was Rowan in trouble? Real trouble? The kind that didn't resolve itself quietly and move on? The kind that left marks?I
Janet's Point of ViewPeter was still holding the papers.I walked into the room fully and closed the door behind me. My legs felt strange. Like the floor had shifted slightly beneath them and hadn't fully settled back."Peter," I said again."Don't," he said.Not loud. Not sharp. Just firm. The single word of a person who has decided they are done being managed.I sat down on the chair across from him. My bag was still in my hand. I set it down slowly on the floor."Let me explain," I said."Were you still sleeping with him?" Peter asked. He looked at me directly. No warmth in the look. No anger either. Just the flat, clear eyes of someone who needed the truth and was going to wait for it however long that took. "After the divorce. Were you and Rowan still—""No," I said immediately. "No. Never. I would never." I pressed my hands together in my lap. "I found out after. The divorce was already done. Everything was already signed and finished and I found out after all of it."Peter loo
Janet's Point of ViewGrandma's sitting room always felt the same.Warm. Unhurried. Full of the kind of quiet that only very old, very loved spaces carry. The kind that has absorbed decades of conversation and laughter and difficult silences and come out the other side still comfortable.I sat across from her with my tea and let the familiarity of it settle around me like something I hadn't known I needed until I was already inside it.We had been talking about work. About the direction my career was taking. About Edward's company and the new project and what it might mean for my practice going forward. Grandma listened the way she always did. Fully. Without rushing toward her own point.Then she set her cup down."And Rowan?" she said.I looked up."He is fine," I said. "Work has been demanding. You know how he gets when there is a lot moving at once. He goes quiet and focuses."Grandma nodded slowly.Too slowly.The kind of nod that means I hear your words and I am not entirely conv
Flora's Point of ViewThe apartment was too quiet.That was the thing about silence when you were alone with your own thoughts. It didn't stay neutral. It filled up with everything you were trying not to think about. Every failed plan. Every door that had been closed in your face. Every version of the future you had built carefully in your head that kept collapsing before you could step inside it.I sat on my couch and stared at nothing.Rowan.I had tried everything. Every angle. Every approach. I had been patient. I had been present. I had made myself available in every way a woman could make herself available to a man. I had cooked in his kitchen. Sat in his living room. Positioned myself as the natural, obvious next step.And every single time, without fail, his mind went back to her.Janet.Always Janet.Even when she wasn't in the room she was in the room. Even when her name wasn't spoken it was sitting there between us like a wall I couldn't see but kept walking into.Rowan's m
Flora’s Point of ViewI left the café without waiting for Claire or Tiffany to follow.The door swung shut behind me, cutting off the noise of their voices, but the silence outside didn’t make things better. My chest felt tight, like something inside me was slowly closing in.I walked without think
Janet’s Point of ViewPeter finally stabilized the day after the concert. The steady rhythm of the monitor beside his bed was the most reassuring sound I had heard in hours. I had barely left his side the entire night, watching his breathing, checking his pulse, forcing him to stay conscious whenev
Rowan’s Point of ViewThe moment Janet stepped into the ballroom, the air changed. It wasn’t loud or dramatic at first—just a subtle shift. Conversations slowed. A few heads turned near the entrance, then a few more. Within seconds, attention rippled quietly through the room like a wave. I followed
Janet’s Point of ViewFlora stood in the doorway as if she had just walked into something she wasn’t prepared to see.Her eyes moved from me to the fabrics spread across the desk, then back to my face. Surprise flickered there — but it didn’t last long. It hardened into something calculating.“Jane







