Mag-log inGwen's POV "No way." Matthew said it like I had just asked him to burn down Kensington headquarters and run through the lobby with a fire extinguisher in his hands. I leaned back in the chair and watched the scene with a calm that wasn't calm. The office was my office. Same desk, same view, the same corner where I kept a mug I never actually used. Except now, I was sitting on the opposite side of the desk. It felt wrong. Not because of pride. Because of instinct. My body knew exactly where I sat when I was the one in charge. And on the other side was Matthew. At least it was him. At least when I looked at that occupied chair, I saw someone I trusted enough not to feel like they were stealing my skin. Mia was still standing, leaning against the bookshelf, with that posture of someone ready to laugh and ready to bite in the same sentence. Dante was sprawled in the armchair like this was a social call and not a conversation that could change a child's life. Matthew,
Gwen's POV I walked into Kensington headquarters like I was coming home and, for a second, I almost forgot I wasn't officially supposed to be there. The lobby moved at its usual pace. People in too much of a hurry to look around, badges tapping against their chests, screens flashing numbers pretending to mean stability. "Even on leave you can't stay away?" The voice came from my right, playful in that way that only works when someone knows just how addicted you are to your job. Mia. She had a coffee in her hand and a crooked little smile on her face, like I was a sick kid showing up to school just to prove I could still make it through the day. "Go live your life, Gwen," she added. I didn't smile. "I need to talk to you," I said. "And Dante." Mia rolled her eyes, full theatrics. "Oh, great. I love when you start sentences like that. It always ends with someone threatening to sue us." "He's here today, isn't he?" I asked, already walking. "Or at the estate?" Mi
Gwen's POV The café sat on a quiet side street. I picked the table all the way in the back, with a clear view of the door and the counter. An old habit. When you grow up being watched, you learn to watch first. The man arrived without rushing, without glancing around too much, like someone who knows that people in a hurry draw attention. Dark suit, carefully scruffy beard, slim briefcase. Not a lawyer's. The kind carried by someone who preferred his work to stay off paper. "Ms. Kensington?" he asked. I nodded. He sat down. "You can call me Lawrence," he said. "You were referred to me." "I know," I replied. "And I won't be using your name outside this room." One corner of his mouth almost lifted. "Good. Then we speak the same language," he said. I wrapped both hands around my cup like it was the only thing I needed to hold on to. "It's a custody case," I began. "So everything needs to be even more… careful." "A minor changes the procedure and the price," he repli
Gwen's POV I woke up feeling like I'd swallowed glass. Tension sat in places that shouldn't even exist in a body. Behind my eyes. At the base of my skull. Between my ribs. I lay still for a few seconds, listening to the quiet apartment, trying to decide what the first emergency of the day would be. The answer came on its own. All of them. I turned my head. Nick was sleeping on his side. Not real sleep. The kind where the body shuts down from exhaustion but the mind is still somewhere else. His arm was stretched toward the empty space in the bed. The space where Bella had slept just hours ago. The bed felt too big without her. I got up slowly, careful not to make noise, and went straight to the bathroom. I took a cold shower, like cold water could strip off what had clung to the night before. I tied my hair back. Put on lotion. My hand drifted to my stomach mid-motion. Habit more than tenderness. I was still trying to function. In the closet, I opened the section w
Nick's POV When the social worker finished the sentence about the "current court order," something primal rose in me. An instinct to grab my daughter and disappear. Martina made a soft, broken sound. Gwen went completely still, her hand resting over her stomach, like her body had absorbed the blow before her mind did. Bella was wrapped around my legs, her face buried in my pants like I was the only safe place left in the world. I ran my hand through her hair slowly, repeating "I'm here" more for myself than for her, because I needed to remember I could still stand upright. She lifted her tear-soaked face and looked at me with a clarity no child should have. "I don't want to go," she whispered. The words hit me like something solid. The man with the folder shuffled his papers. "Mr. Valemont—" "I understand," I cut in, without raising my voice. "I just need a minute." I crouched down to Bella's level. "Princess…" I said, and it took everything in me not to let the w
Gwen's POV The coffee still tasted bitter going down when I opened the first tag. The page loaded with one of those layouts that pretended to be journalism but ran on the same fuel as gossip. Certainty without proof. Assumptions dressed up as facts. I skimmed fast, scanning the damage. [COO of Kensington Valentia Involved in Child Kidnapping] I scrolled. [Sources close to the biological mother…] [Experts say cases like this often involve parental alienation…] [Gwen allegedly manipulated the child into rejecting her mother…] Manipulated? I read it again to make sure that was really the word. The narrative was neat. Gwen, billionaire, calculating, pregnant, jealous of the ex-wife. I scrolled further. [Suspiciously, amid the disappearance, the executive was the only one who 'intuitively' knew where to look…] [After the public commotion, she positioned herself as the savior…] And then the line meant to slice clean through: [It is difficult to believe that, wit
The intercom buzzed exactly at seven, right on time. Christian was punctual even when it came to casual moments. I pressed the button to let him in, my heart picking up speed as I checked my reflection in the hallway mirror one last time. I'd spent the whole afternoon preparing dinner, carefully p
I woke up with swollen eyes and a pounding headache. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, the late-morning glow telling me it was well past nine. I'd barely slept a few restless hours, haunted by dreams where Christian looked at me with that same cold, accusing stare from last night. Sitting on
I was reviewing the quarterly financial reports when Marcus walked into my office wearing an expression I recognized instantly. It was the same look he used to have as a kid whenever he broke something valuable that belonged to Grandpa. "We need to talk," he said, closing the door behind him a lit
The silence in the cellar seemed to stretch into infinity, my confession hanging in the air like something poisonous. I waited for it—the disappointment, the hurt, the sense of betrayal to cross Joseph's face. But what came next left me completely stunned. A laugh. Not a polite chuckle or an awk







