LOGIN[Sarah’s POV]"You cannot go around making baseless accusations, Tyler," I snapped, my voice low and cutting. "Do you have any idea how this looks? You’re a man under investigation for corporate espionage, and now you’re stalking me to whisper conspiracy theories about my staff.""It’s not baseless, Sarah," Tyler insisted, leaning across the small marble table. His voice was a harsh whisper, his eyes searching mine with a desperation that felt almost physical. "I’m not just throwing names around here. I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on. The evidence is clear. Size forty-six ranch boots. folks in the city do not wear that."I leaned back in the velvet chair, my fingers tracing the rim of an untouched espresso. I looked at Tyler. He was a mess—shadows under his eyes, his shirt wrinkled, a frantic energy vibrating off him that made my skin crawl. Dex stood a few paces away, his back to us, guarding the perimeter of a conversation that felt like it was being held over a
[Tyler’s POV]It was humiliating. A month ago, I owned this building. I owned the air inside that lobby. Now, I was a ghost haunting my own perimeter, my high-level security clearance revoked and my face likely pinned to the "do not allow" board in the security office. Sarah meant it when she said she would erase my existence from it.The interior of my SUV smelled like stale coffee and the frantic, sour sweat of a man who was losing everything. I had been sitting in the shadows of the parking structure across from the Rider Group building for nearly six hours, my eyes burning from staring at the revolving glass doors.I shifted in the leather seat, my back aching. I was exhausted. The lead from Detective Miller about the size 46 boots tracks found near where Beatrice was dumped, was screaming in the back of my mind. I needed to tell Sarah. I needed her to understand what my suspicions are.Give it up, Tyler, a voice in my head whispered. She’ll just call the police. She’ll think it’s
[Tyler’s POV]We sat in the dim light of the chandelier, the only sound the rhythmic clink of silver against porcelain. Chloe was pushing a piece of salmon around her plate, her eyes red-rimmed from another day of restricted credit lines, while Elena stared blankly at the empty chair where our father usually sat."He’s still in Italy," Chloe muttered, breaking the silence. "I talked to him twenty minutes ago. He’s trying to move some offshore assets, but everything is tangled in Sarah’s new audit protocols.""He shouldn't have left," I said, my voice flat. "Moving our assets now is a wrong move, and he knows that. Father just needed an excuse to run away from his mess.""He knows it’s a losing battle," Elena whispered.Before I could respond, the doorbell chimed a sharp, intrusive sound that echoed through the hollow house."Is that Dad?" Elena asked, her eyes lighting up with a desperate hope."Impossible," Chloe countered. "Unless he rented a supersonic jet we can't afford."The doo
[Sarah’s POV]The production house was a hive of activity, I stood by the large oak tasting table, a manifest in my hand, forcing my eyes to stay fixed on the columns of numbers. I could feel Norman before I saw him. The air seemed to shift, growing heavier, more stifling. I didn't look up until I felt his shadow fall across the paperwork."The late-harvest yields are exceeding the estimates, Sarah," Norman said, his voice warm and steady... the same voice that had whispered promises to me while, unknown to me, he was typing messages to Lucy. "We’re going to have a record-breaking vintage."I looked up and forced a smile so wide it made my cheeks ache. I let out a light, airy laugh, the sound echoing hollowly in my own ears. "That’s incredible news, Norman. I knew I could trust you to handle the harvest perfectly. You always have such a green thumb."He stepped closer, moving into that small, private space we usually shared when the staff was busy. He reached out, his hand sliding ont
[Sarah’s POV]"Mama! Mama!"Caleb stumbled toward me on unsteady legs, and the cold, sharp edges of the Rider Group boardroom finally began to melt away from my mind. I scooped him up, burying my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of baby powder and sun-warmed skin. I showered his chubby cheeks with kisses, desperate to anchor myself back to the only thing in this world that wasn't a lie."You’ve been a good boy for Rosa, haven't you?" I whispered, tickling his stomach until he shrieked with laughter.Rosa and Mae were standing by the changing table, their movements stiff, their eyes avoiding mine. The tension from my outburst the night before was still there, a thick, invisible wall that made every breath feel heavy. I set Caleb down in his playpen and forced a smile that felt small on my face."I was thinking," I started, trying to inject a lightness into my voice that I didn't feel. "Maybe tonight, once Caleb is asleep, we could open a bottle of the new Reserve?
[Sarah’s POV]"Ms. Hale? If you look at slide fourteen, you’ll see the projected margins for the Q3 expansion into the Asian markets."Adam, the Director of Global Marketing, was standing by the massive LED screen. He was young, sharp, and radiating a nervous energy. He had been talking for forty-five minutes.I didn't hear a word of it.Instead, I felt the phantom sensation of the North ridge wind against my bare skin. I felt the rough texture of the wool blanket beneath me and the heat of Norman’s mouth against my neck. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the way the sunlight had caught the sweat on his brow as he looked down at me, claiming me in the middle of my own land.A slow, involuntary blush crept up my neck, warming my cheeks. I leaned back in the executive chair, my fingers tracing the outline of my lower lip, remembering the weight of his kiss. A small, private smile tugged at the corners of my mouth."Ms. Hale? Ma'am?"I snapped back to the present. The room was silent. T
[Tyler’s POV]The dining room of my sister Brenda’s mansion was a sea of white linen, and the suffocating scent of lilies. It was supposed to be a family bonding evening. Instead, it felt like a wrestling ring.I adjusted my tie for the tenth time, my skin crawling. I had just come from a warehouse
"You're supposed to be in bed." Norman said blocking my way."Good morning to you too, Norman.""I'm serious.""So am I." I pulled my coat off the hook by the door, bag already on my shoulder, keys already in my hand. "Move."He didn't move. He stood at the end of the hallway with a mug of coffee.
The doctor said stress induced like it was simple.Like stress was something you could decide to have less of. Like I hadn't spent the last five months rebuilding a life from nothing, alone, and pregnant, with a man who had almost run me over as my closest ally and a vineyard that had needed everyt
Big Elijah said we hadn't seen a season like this in twenty years.He said it the way he said everything — quietly, standing at the stable fence with his arms folded, looking out at the vineyard the way a man looked at something he loved and had been worried about for a long time.Then he looked at







