When I returned to Grandfather's room, Daniel was sitting beside the bed, head bent close as they spoke in low voices. They both looked up as I entered, their conversation cutting off abruptly."Maya, come in," Grandfather beckoned, his expression brightening. "Daniel was just updating me on company matters."I approached the other side of the bed, acutely aware of Daniel's eyes tracking my movement. "Nothing too stressful, I hope. You're supposed to be resting.""Bah," Grandfather waved off my concern. "Business keeps me sharp. Idle minds are the first to fade."Despite everything, I smiled. Even bedridden, Giuseppe Russo remained indomitable."Daniel tells me you've been having some trouble at your new job," Grandfather continued, his gaze shrewd. "Something about office politics?"I shot Daniel a sharp look. Of course he'd been keeping tabs on me, gathering ammunition for moments like this."Nothing I can't handle," I said carefully. "Every workplace has its challenges.""Indeed." G
The ATM screen stared back at me like it was personally offended.UNABLE TO PROCESS REQUEST. PLEASE CONTACT YOUR FINANCIAL INSTITUTION."What the fuck?" I jabbed the button again, harder this time, as if that might change anything. Same message. I tried another transaction—just checking my balance. Maybe the machine was glitching.ACCOUNT ACCESS RESTRICTED. PLEASE CONTACT YOUR FINANCIAL INSTITUTION.A cold feeling spread through my chest. I knew exactly what this meant. Or rather, who."Ma'am? Are you finished?" The woman behind me shifted impatiently, clutching her wallet.I yanked my card from the slot. "Machine's broken."Outside the bank, I pulled out my phone and logged into my banking app. The password I'd changed just last week still worked, but when the app loaded, a red notification banner stretched across the top of the screen.ACCOUNTS FROZEN - LEGAL HOLD."Goddamn it, Daniel." I leaned against the bank's brick wall, fighting the urge to hurl my phone into traffic. This was
Sunset Valley Care Center smelled like industrial cleaner trying to mask the underlying scent of sickness and age. I'd always hated it here, but at least they took good care of Mami Lulu. The nurses knew her quirks, understood her condition, treated her with dignity.Now I might have to move her to a state facility with overworked staff and cramped rooms. The thought made me sick."Maya! So nice to see you." Rebecca greeted me at the billing office, her professional smile not quite reaching her eyes. She was younger than I expected, maybe early thirties, with a practical bob and sensible shoes. "Come in, please."I followed her into a small office cluttered with files and family photos. She pulled up Mami Lulu's account on her computer, angling the screen so I could see."As I mentioned on the phone, the account is three months past due. That's $11,400, plus late fees." She pointed to the total at the bottom of the screen: $12,347.82."I understand." I swallowed hard. "My ex-husband wa
Back at my apartment, I stared at my pathetic account balance and the stack of bills waiting to be paid. The partial payment I'd made would buy me a few weeks at most. Then what?The Eden competition prize money would help once it came through, but that could take months. My Thorne Designs salary barely covered my rent, and I'd already been living on ramen and clearance produce to stretch every dollar.I had exactly two options: find more income immediately, or swallow my pride and ask Daniel to unfreeze the accounts. The second wasn't really an option at all. I'd cut off my own arm before I'd go crawling back to him.Which left only one real choice. One I'd been avoiding since the meeting in the hospital.The next morning, I arrived at Thorne Designs an hour early, rehearsing what I'd say as the elevator climbed to the executive floor. This wasn't begging, I told myself. This was a professional request for an advance on my salary. People did it all the time. It wasn't personal.But it
I lost myself in the gentle curve of silver wire beneath my fingers, bending it to my will. This was what I needed—creation instead of destruction. My hands moved with practiced precision, muscle memory taking over as my mind drifted. Three new designs flowed from my fingertips since dawn, each edgier than anything I'd have dared under Daniel's watchful eye.The design floor hummed with distant conversation, but no one approached my corner. Word of my confrontation with Sophie had spread, creating an invisible barrier around me. Fine by me. Solitude was better than fake smiles and whispered judgments."These are... different."I jumped, nearly stabbing myself with the metal pliers. Alex stood beside my desk, studying the pendant I'd just completed—raw crystal wrapped in delicate silver threads like a cage that wasn't quite closed. The gemstone could slip free if turned just right, but appeared securely trapped at first glance."Christ, wear a bell or something," I muttered, setting dow
Maribelle's was exactly the kind of restaurant Daniel used to take clients to—all understated elegance and old money pretension. The kind of place where they don't put prices on the menu because if you have to ask, you can't afford it.I gave my name to the host, ignoring the way his eyes flicked over my borrowed dress, assessing its worth and finding me acceptable. The thought made me want to spill something on the pristine tablecloth, just to see his perfectly composed face crack.Alex waited at a corner table, rising as I approached. His eyes widened slightly as they swept over me, a fleeting reaction quickly masked by professional courtesy."Maya. You look..." He paused, apparently searching for an appropriately professional compliment."Green?" I supplied, sliding into my seat.His mouth curved into a genuine smile. "I was going to say 'stunning,' but 'green' works too."I glanced around at the other diners—wealthy couples in designer clothes, business executives making deals over
As we pulled away from the restaurant, I leaned my head against the cool window, watching raindrops race each other down the glass. "Why are you being so nice to me?" The question slipped out before I could stop it."Is being nice so suspicious?" he asked, eyes on the road."In my experience? Yes." I closed my eyes, the wine making me loose-lipped. "Everyone wants something.""What do you think I want, Maya?"I turned to look at him, the city lights playing across his profile. "Control. Isn't that what all men want? To own something beautiful and keep it in a cage?"Alex's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Is that what Daniel told you?""He didn't have to tell me. He showed me." The words tumbled out, filter dissolved by alcohol and exhaustion. "Every day for three years. My designs, my body, my mind—just pretty things for him to possess.""I'm not Daniel," Alex said quietly."No? Then what's this really about?" I gestured between us, the movement sloppy and uncoordinated. "The j
Alex's POVI heard her voice falter as I walked away, slurring slightly with the wine and exhaustion. "If Daniel was using me for my designs, and you're not... then what do you want from me? Really?"The question hit harder than she could know. What did I want from Maya Russo? The simple answer—the one I couldn't give her—was everything. The chance to know her, to see if the woman she'd become matched the girl who'd saved me in those mountains all those years ago.But she wasn't ready for that truth. Not tonight, and maybe not ever."Right now? I want you to get some sleep and feel better in the morning. Everything else can wait," I said instead, keeping my voice gentle."That's not an answer." Even drunk and swaying on her feet, she was sharp enough to call me on my evasion."I know." I couldn't help smiling, thinking how that stubborn perceptiveness was so essentially Maya. "Goodnight, Maya."I closed the door behind me, listening for a moment to make sure she was moving around safel
"What leverage could they possibly have on Chen?" I asked, focusing on the immediate problem to avoid the bottomless pit of other thoughts waiting to swallow me. "She's been with Russo Designs for twenty years. She despises my father.""Well…they wouldn't approach her without ammunition," Grandfather said. "Your parents are opportunistic, not stupid."I stopped at the window, pushing the curtain aside to peer at the garden below. The rosebushes needed pruning. Grandfather was letting things slip. Another small sign of his decline he thought I hadn't noticed."Something about the foundation," I said finally. "That's what they've been focusing on.""The Henderson grant application," Olivia suggested, looking up from her laptop. "Your father's golfing buddy chairs th
"What leverage could they possibly have on Chen?" I asked, focusing on the immediate problem to avoid the bottomless pit of other thoughts waiting to swallow me. "She's been with Russo Designs for twenty years. She despises my father.""Well…they wouldn't approach her without ammunition," Grandfather said. "Your parents are opportunistic, not stupid."I stopped at the window, pushing the curtain aside to peer at the garden below. The rosebushes needed pruning. Grandfather was letting things slip. Another small sign of his decline he thought I hadn't noticed."Something about the foundation," I said finally. "That's what they've been focusing on.""The Henderson grant application," Olivia suggested, looking up from her laptop. "Your father's golfing buddy chairs th
MayaI'd forgotten how much I hated Grandfather's study. The room felt like it was actively trying to swallow me—dark wood paneling soaking up what little sunlight filtered through heavy curtains, leather chairs too deep for my frame, bookshelves stuffed with volumes nobody had opened in decades. The air still had that perpetual smell of cigars even though I had never seen grandfather smoke."They've approached Whitcomb," Grandfather said, tossing a handwritten note across his massive desk. Not photographs. Not dramatic surveillance. Just his spidery handwriting on Russo Designs stationery showing the result of one phone call to a secretary who'd worked for him for thirty years and still treated him like God despite his "retirement."I picked it up, trying to focus on the words while my brain kept circling back to the same useless
AlexThe elevator doors closed, cutting off the sound of Maya's apartment door slamming behind me. I jabbed the lobby button, watching the numbers descend while her words echoed: "You're obsessed. Mr. I-Still-Carry-The-Bracelet."She knew exactly where to strike. The bracelet wasn't just some keepsake. It was the one tangible connection to a past we both shared. The proof that we'd been connected long before any of this. And now she'd just turned it into something shameful, like the fact that it mattered to me was a deficiency.The doorman nodded as I passed through the lobby. I pushed past him without acknowledgment, the cold night air hitting my face as I started walking. No destination. I just wanted to go away.One minute we were talking about her parents, and the next she was treating me like I was trying to control her entire life. Hated it she compared me to Daniel. That comparison stung more than the bracelet comment. All that, for just trying to help. Was that overstepping? W
I watched as Robert questioned Maya's professional judgment, his voice carrying that familiar patronizing tone. And then—"You'd really destroy your own daughter's work?" Thorne interjected, addressing her parents directly. "To protect a lie?"Caroline Kingston's face hardened. "Mr. Thorne, with all due respect, you weren't invited to this dinner.""No, but I was invited by Maya. And since we're speaking of reputations, perhaps we should discuss how it would look if the industry discovered that the Kingstons deliberately left their daughter in the mountains for over a decade for business purposes."The blood rushed to my face. Who the fuck did he think he was? Playing white knight when he knew nothing about her, nothing about what she needed, nothing about what we'd built together.Then Maya's voice cut through clearly: "Alex is family. The family I've chosen."Something hot and tight constricted in my chest. I stared at the screen, at her hand covering his on the table. An intimate g
DanielI studied our wedding photo as I waited. It was the only personal item they'd allowed me to keep after the "incident" with Dr. Levinson. The frame had a small scratch across the glass now—probably deliberate, another of their petty humiliations. Like the facility uniform that hung loose on my frame, the scheduled bed checks, the constant surveillance. As if I were some common patient.Maya looked perfect that day. I'd selected her dress myself—ivory silk that caught the light exactly right. The photographer had needed minimal direction; Maya had already learned to present herself properly by then. The work I'd put into refining her had paid off. Sometimes I wondered if she remembered that—how much better she was because of me.The door opened without a knock. Basic courtesy, another casualty of this place."Medication time, Mr. Russo." Kevin stood in the doorway, rumpled uniform and mediocre posture. The man was a walking collection of weaknesses—betting slips visible in his br
Every ten minutes, I checked my phone. Like clockwork. Like an addict. Each time expecting something that wasn't there."You're going to wear out your screen," Olivia said, not looking up from the spreadsheets spread across my kitchen counter. Her voice was casual, but I caught the sidelong glance.I set the phone down. Picked up a grant proposal. Put it down again. Checked the time: 10:42 AM. Eleven hours and twenty-six minutes since Alex had walked out my door."The Henderson committee needs the revised budget by Thursday," Olivia said, sliding a spreadsheet toward me. "And we should prepare counterarguments for the 'concerns' your parents have been spreading.""What exactly are they saying?" I asked, scanning the numbers without really seeing them. My thumb twitched toward my phone again. I curled it into my palm."That you're emotionally unstable after leaving Daniel. That the foundation is just a vendetta against established design houses." Olivia's pen tapped against her legal p
I grabbed my phone before my eyes were fully open, fingers finding it automatically in the dark. The screen lit up, momentarily blinding me.No missed calls. No texts. Nothing.Something heavy settled in my chest as I refreshed the screen. Still empty. I checked the time—7:32 AM. Not that early. Not anymore.I slipped the phone under my pillow, then immediately pulled it out again to check the ringer was on. Full volume. Full brightness. No way to miss a call or text if—when—it came.He'd said he would call today. Today had twenty-four hours in it. This was only the first of them.I dragged myself to the bathroom, wincing at my reflection. Mascara smudged in raccoon circles. Hair matted on one side, wild on
Troy's mouth fell open. "You did not." He stared at me for a beat. “You didn't, right?” He searched my face for answers, before disappointment clouded his face."You had to go that low?" Troy pressed his palms against his eyes. "Jesus.""I didn't—" I started to defend myself."Shut up." Troy cut me off, his words slightly slurred. "What happened after?"I paced the kitchen, my thoughts still tangled. "He left. Said he needed space.""Can't blame him." Troy slumped deeper into the couch. "So that's why you texted? Because he left?""Because—" I stopped, struggling to articulate what had driven me to reach for my phone. "I don't know why I texted. I was drunk