LOGINNATALIE’S POVWhen the call ended, I stared at Anthony’s phone for a second too long.The screen had gone dark in my hand, but I could still hear her voice in my head.I wanted to ask if you would come to my wedding.I swallowed and handed the phone back to Anthony.He was standing near the conference room window, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened.“Well?” he asked quietly.I laughed once, helplessly. “She invited me.”His face softened in this infuriatingly sincere way he had whenever Ostara was involved.“Yeah,” he said. “She did.”I looked down, fiddling with my ring as if that would somehow steady the absurd lump in my throat.“She really wants me there?”Anthony gave me a look. “Nat, she’s not exactly easy to force.”That made me laugh again, this time a little more like myself. No one said anything for a moment.Then I straightened and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear because crying over a wedding invitation in front of Anthony Möller felt like a new low, even for me.“I’m no
OSTARA’S POVWhen Anthony finally told me the full plan, I forgot how to breathe for a second.I was in my office at Harvest Bloom, one hand still resting on a stack of packaging drafts, the late afternoon light slanting across the glass wall behind me. His voice came through the phone steady and certain, as if what he was describing was not completely insane.“What?” I asked. Anthony gave a low laugh from the other end. “Yeah. That was more or less my internal reaction, too.”“Is that even possible?”“I’ll make sure it happens,” he said. His tone shifted there, went flatter, more dangerous. “I do not want this sword hanging over my family forever. They deserve to lose everything after the way they treated you once they found out Natalie was alive.”I sank slowly into my chair.Outside the office, the lab moved on as usual. Trays sliding across counters. Lucy’s heels clicking down the hallway. Davina laughing at something. It all felt bizarrely normal while Anthony talked about dism
ANTHONY’S POVThe boardroom at the Montgomery Hospitals & Clinics head office smelled like polished wood, expensive coffee, and denial.Natalie sat at the far end of the table, spine straight, chin slightly lifted, hands folded over the folder in front of her. Valentin was beside her, one hand resting near his glass of water, expression unreadable. I sat across from them with my legal team flanking me. Robert sat two seats down, fully composed. Then the Montgomerys walked in.Mrs. Montgomery paused in the doorway first, eyes darting across the table until they landed on Natalie. The expression on her face went through shock, indignation, grief, anger, and finally something sharp and cold.Mr. Montgomery recovered faster, which didn’t surprise me at all. “This is absurd,” he said before he had even taken his seat. “We were told this was a governance discussion, not an ambush.”“It is a governance discussion,” Natalie said calmly. “Your discomfort… is incidental.”I almost smiled. S
OSTARA’S POVWith Anthony in New York, Harvest Bloom felt different. He had settled into the place so naturally that his absence was felt now. I noticed it in stupid little ways. The untouched mug that unofficially belonged to him. The chair in the conference room that looked too neat without him slouched into it. The fact that no one was sweeping into my office to kiss my temple and drop a market insight into my lap before vanishing again.I missed him.Which was inconvenient, because work had decided this was the perfect week to become aggressive.Elijah and Davina had taken point on the Asia expansion while Anthony was gone. Lucy was running between calls, supplier follow-ups, wedding folders, and my calendar with the kind of efficiency that made me wonder how I had ever managed life without her.By noon, the office had become a moving machine of samples, calls, and overlapping conversations. I went downstairs to the conference room where Davina and Elijah were waiting with a gue
OSTARA’S POVThe place Elijah chose was small, private, and almost ordinary.A quiet townhouse café tucked into a side street in Notting Hill, closed to the public for the afternoon because Elijah had rented the back room entirely. It was perfect.Or at least, it was as close to perfect as you could get when arranging for a little girl to meet the mother she thought was dead.Penny sat on the sofa beside me, both hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate she hadn’t touched.She was dressed neatly, as always. Navy cardigan, white blouse, her blonde hair brushed smooth. Only I could feel the tension in her small body.Elijah stood by the window, pretending to look outside while actually checking the garden gate every three seconds. Every time a car passed, his shoulders tightened.“She’ll be here,” I said softly.He glanced back at us. “I know.”“You’re wearing a hole in the floor.”“That’s fine,” he said. “I paid for the room.”That made Penny smile faintly. It was tiny, but it loo
ANTHONY’S POVI hated leaving.Ostara stood beside me in the quiet waiting lounge, one hand around a coffee she’d barely touched, the other tucked under her elbow. She had that look on her face again — composed on the surface, annoyed underneath.Not angry. Just very clearly unhappy with the arrangement.“I promise,” I said, adjusting the cuff of my coat because if I looked at her for too long, I might tell the pilot to cancel the whole thing and go home. “I’ll tell you everything in two days.”Her eyes lifted to mine.“You already said that,” she replied.“I know.”“I still hate it.”I smiled despite myself. “I know that too.”She exhaled and looked away toward the runway. London was still damp and grey outside, the sky hanging low like it disapproved.“I don’t like not knowing what’s happening,” she said after a moment.“That,” I said gently, “has been noted.”She turned back to me with a dry look. “Oh, has it?”“Extensively.”That almost got a smile out of her.Almost.I stepped cl
PETER’S POVThe name on the hotel register wasn’t mine.Technically, nothing in this life was mine anymore. Not the name, not the city, not even the rumpled jacket hanging off the back of the chair that I’d managed to flick from the coatroom. I’d signed in as “Mr. John Brittlesbee” two weeks ago a
NATALIE’S POVThere was a time in my life when survival felt… improvisational. My lies had to be convincing if I wanted to survive, and my backbone needed to be made of adrenaline. I depended on my quick hands, quick lies, and pretty face to make my way through the world. It took me from stealing w
OSTARA’S POVMorning light filtered through the blinds of Anthony’s study, catching dust motes as I stood on the small platform the tailor had brought, the cool silver silk of my half-finished dress falling around my legs.“Turn a little, please,” she murmured. I shifted; Anthony watched from his
OSTARA’S POVAnthony’s study always felt like the safest room in the house—dark wood, steady lighting, walls lined with books that made everything feel grounded. Today, even the room seemed on edge.We spoke in angry whispers, the kind people use when they don’t want the person in the next room to







