LOGINBella."Where are we going?" I asked for the third time as Alex drove us out of the city, watching the skyscrapers give way to suburbs and then to rolling countryside."It's a surprise," he said, his lips curved in a mysterious smile that made my stomach flutter with anticipation."I hate surprises," I muttered, though that wasn't entirely true anymore. Marcus's surprises had been terrifying—unexpected visits that ended in punishment, sudden changes to rules I didn't know existed, tests I was designed to fail. But Alex and Nick's surprises tended to be wonderful—flowers delivered to my classroom, reservations at restaurants I'd mentioned wanting to try, thoughtful gifts that showed they actually listened to me.Nick reached from the backseat to squeeze my shoulder reassuringly. "Trust us. You're going to love this."And I did trust them. Completely. That realization still took my breath away sometimes—that I could trust again, that I could let myself be vulnerable without fear.We dro
Nick. "So what do you think?" I asked Bella, spreading the investment proposal across the dining table. "The artist collective needs funding to establish a permanent gallery space. In return, we get first option on purchasing any pieces that go up for sale, plus a percentage of gallery sales." Bella studied the documents, her brow furrowed in concentration in that adorable way she had when she was thinking deeply about something. Over the past month, we'd been gradually involving her in business discussions, testing the waters to see if she had an interest in the work Alex and I did. And I was consistently impressed by her insights—she saw patterns and connections we sometimes missed, approached problems from angles we hadn't considered. "The numbers look good," she said slowly, running her finger down the projected revenue column. "But have you visited the space? Seen the artists' work in person? Met with them to understand their vision?" "Not yet. That's scheduled for next week
Bella. The whispers started in my third week of classes. At first, I thought I was imagining it—the way conversations stopped when I walked into a room, the sidelong glances, the sudden intense interest in their phones when I looked up. I told myself I was being paranoid, that my traumatic past was making me see threats where there were none. But by Friday, it was unmistakable. "Did you hear?" I overheard two girls in the bathroom, their voices echoing off the tile walls. I'd just entered a stall and they clearly didn't know I was there. "That's her. The one who's dating both Greyson twins." "Both of them? Like, at the same time?" The second voice was incredulous, almost scandalized. "Apparently. My cousin works at their company and says they're all living together in this massive penthouse. Can you imagine? Two guys, one girl, all under the same roof. It's so weird." "I don't know if it's weird or amazing," the first girl laughed. "Have you seen them? They're identical and gor
Alex. I watched Bella pace the living room, her anxiety palpable as she clutched her new backpack. She'd been up since five AM, changing outfits three times, redoing her makeup twice, and generally working herself into a state of nervous energy that reminded me of how far she'd come—and how much further she still wanted to go. The fact that she was anxious about going back to school, rather than anxious about her physical safety, felt like progress. "What if people stare?" she asked for the third time, her green eyes wide with worry. "What if they know about Marcus? What if they've read about the arrest? What if they judge me for living with you and Nick?" "Then they're not worth your energy," I said calmly, setting down my coffee and crossing the room to her. "Bella, you're going back to school to finish your degree. That's what matters. Not what strangers think. Not gossip or judgment or speculation." "Easy for you to say," she muttered, but she was smiling slightly, some of th
Bella. I woke up alone, which was unusual. Normally, I was sandwiched between Alex and Nick, warm and safe and loved. I reached out to both sides of the bed, finding only cool sheets and rumpled pillows. For a moment, old panic fluttered in my chest—the kind that whispered they'd left, they'd changed their minds, they'd realized I wasn't worth the trouble. But then I heard laughter from the kitchen, the clink of dishes, the smell of coffee and something sweet baking. They were here. They were making breakfast. Everything was fine. I found them in the kitchen, working together to make breakfast. Alex was at the stove, flipping pancakes with the intense concentration he brought to everything he did, while Nick chopped fruit at the island, humming along to the jazz playing softly from the speaker. They moved around each other with practiced ease, a dance they'd perfected over thirty-two years of being together—Alex reaching for the spatula at the exact moment Nick handed it to him, N
Nick. Sunday arrived faster than I expected, and I could feel Bella's nerves ramping up as we drove to our parents' house. She'd been fidgeting with the hem of her dress for the entire twenty-minute drive, alternating between deep breathing exercises and anxious questions about how exactly we should phrase things. I'd never seen her this nervous, not even when we'd prepared for the Marcus confrontation. "They're going to love you," I assured her for what felt like the hundredth time, reaching from the back seat to squeeze her shoulder. "They already do love you. This is just making it official." "Easy for you to say," she muttered, twisting in her seat to look at me with wide, worried eyes. "You're not about to tell your parents you're dating two brothers simultaneously. What if they think I'm—I don't know—manipulating you both? Or that I can't choose between you?" "Technically, we're telling them we're all dating each other," Alex corrected from the driver's seat, his tone patie







