LOGINNATALIE’S POVDubai was warm in a way that made forgiveness feel possible.The air here did not cling to old ghosts the way New York had, or prison, or that awful in-between phase where every room I entered still seemed to contain a version of myself I wanted to slap. Dubai let things shine. Surfaces were polished. And because for the first time in a very long time, no one was dragging me. No Peter. No Zane. No parents.I had a husband—still absurd to think about—who asked instead of demanded.That alone felt like a miracle.I was sitting in the private room of a boutique hotel in Downtown Dubai, going over sample tables for a wedding planner who had too many opinions about flowers, when it hit me again:I was planning a wedding.Not the prison paperwork version but a real one with a white dress, music, friends, and photographers.The planner pushed a tray of invitation paper toward me. “This one has the best texture,” she said, lifting a creamy card stock. “Elegant, understated, ve
ANTHONY’S POVSpeaking to Natalie again was the last thing I wanted to do.Every time her name came back into our lives, it dragged old filth in with it. My grandfather’s death. Ostara’s fear. Donna’s nightmares. And I was done letting the Montgomerys treat my fiancée like she was still theirs to summon, accuse, and corner.I found Ossie in her office that night. She was standing by the glass wall with her arms folded, looking down at the empty lab.I came up beside her and touched the small of her back.“Donna’s with your parents for another night. I explained the situation to them.” She nodded and sighed. “Tell me you have a plan,” she said. “I am so ready to have a normal life again, I don’t want to look over my shoulder anymore.” “I do,” I said. “Everything will be fine. I’ll fly to America, speak to Nat, and end this.”That made her blink. “She would’ve left by now, surely.”“Probably,” I admitted. “I’ll call the prison and check.”I stepped aside and did exactly that. The co
OSTARA’S POVFor one ridiculous second, all I could do was stare.My adoptive parents stood in the Harvest Bloom entrance like they had walked in from another universe—my old universe—the one made of cold dining rooms, conditional affection, and the constant feeling that I should be grateful just to remain in the house.Except now they weren’t in that house.They were in mine.My office. My world.My mother spotted me first and stiffened even further, if that was possible. My father’s jaw was so tight I thought it might crack.“There she is,” he said.The security guard beside me shifted. “Would you like me to call the cops—” “No,” I said quickly, though my pulse had already started to pound. “It’s alright.”It wasn’t alright. But I knew them.If I had them physically removed, they’d turn it into another story. So I stepped forward instead.“What are you doing here?” I asked.My mother gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “What are we doing here?”“Yes,” I said. “What are you doing her
OSTARA’S POVThe morning after the rooftop dinner, I kept catching myself staring at my own hand in disbelief. The ring Anthony had put there seemed to catch the light at the strangest moments. Over coffee. While buttoning my coat. Reaching for my phone. Signing off on production notes. Every time I noticed it, a small, warm shock ran through me all over again. I was engaged.It was hard not to flaunt it unconsciously… I noticed I had started moving my hands differently during conversation. And somehow, despite the surrealness of it, life did not pause to let me absorb it. Life kept moving—expansion plans, family complications, and now, wedding conversations. I was halfway through making my coffee in the office breakroom when Elijah walked in, in a suit as usual, mug in hand, looking thoughtful. “You’re thinking of something,” I said, clocking his expression immediately. He frowned. “Do I have the face?”“Yes, you can see it from space,” I joked. He huffed a laugh and lea
OSTARA’S POVI looked down at the ring again and felt emotion rise so quickly I had to swallow it back.It was perfect. Of course, it was perfect. Simple and strong and elegant.I curled my fingers, then looked back at him.“That rooftop thing you arranged,” I said slowly.Anthony blinked. “The one I am now praying you never saw the invoices for?”I laughed. “Can it be adjusted?”He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Adjusted how?”“For a family dinner,” I said. “Tonight. So we can announce this right.”His whole face changed.Not just softened—lit up. Relief, delight, something almost boyish. Like the idea of sharing this immediately, instead of guarding it for some private later, was a gift he hadn’t let himself expect.“Yes,” he said instantly. “Absolutely. I’ll make some calls.”We both got up off the floor. The second we were upright, I pulled him in again for a kiss. Then I pulled out my phone.The family group chat was already chaotic on a normal day. Today, I decided, it could ha
ANTHONY’S POVShe looked up at me, eyes wide and bright, her breath still a little uneven from laughing and kissing me and nearly knocking me over in the middle of her office.For one insane second, I almost lost my nerve.The scale of my emotions and how long they had been built up knocked the wind out of me and made me wonder if I could even go through with it. I had known for years that this was where I wanted to end up. Not London—the city didn’t matter—but with her and Donna. But knowing was not the same thing as saying it.And for all the planning I had done—the rooftop, the flowers, the restaurant, the music, the speech before getting down on one knee—I knew there would be no better time than this. Screw it, I thought. This is the moment. Her smile had softened now. She was searching my face, and then I saw it.The realization.It came slowly, like dawn crossing water.Her mouth parted. Her eyes widened further, and the breath she drew in trembled on the way down.I almost l
Morning laid itself out like a postcard — the lake flat and bright, boats sliding across it in slow lines, the terrace table set with warm croissants, softened butter, a jar of apricot jam catching the light. It looked like peace. It wasn’t.Davina was already eating, one leg tucked under her, hai
OSTARA’S POVI sat there for a long moment, just staring at it. My first impulse was to delete the email. Clean. Quick. No chance for me to hesitate again. But my hand hovered over the key, unmoving.Delete would have been strength. Block would have been final.And yet I didn’t do either.Why?My
ANTHONY’S POVThe van’s horn ripped the air apart.I didn’t think. My body surged forward, boots slamming against wet asphalt, my coat snapping around me like a sail. The headlights carved into my vision—bright, merciless—but all I saw was the small shape of the girl in pink.She was seconds from b
PETER’S POVThe rejection lingered like smoke.I had rehearsed every angle, every pitch, every line of patience and persuasion. Harvest Bloom should have been mine. Not because I needed them — Portale could thrive with or without them — but because Anthony couldn’t have them.And yet, there she was







