LOGINGwen's POV I moved with ease. Greeted a staff member, slipped along the side of the gallery, and stepped into the coat check area where guests' bags and jackets were stored with numbered tags. I pushed open the door to a smaller room reserved for staff. The air was different. More stifling. More real. "So," I asked before the door even closed. "Did it work?" Matthew and Dante were sitting at a narrow table, like it was an improvised war meeting. Next to them, a shorter man, focused, with an open laptop and cables I didn't want to identify. Paul. I only knew two things about him. That he understood technology very well… and that his skill set didn't stop at what was permitted. Matthew looked up at me, and I saw the same exhaustion that had been following me for weeks. Only in him it always looked more contained. Like he was afraid of wasting energy on anything that wasn't useful. "We got the phone," he replied. "Paul's working on it." Paul didn't even look at me. His f
Renee's POV Friday arrived with the taste of a quiet promise. Well-dressed people. Calculated lighting. Glasses that never stayed empty. Conversations that sounded casual but were really résumés in disguise. I had received an invitation to an art exhibition in Florentia. Not one of those small events with half a dozen acquaintances and lukewarm wine. This was one of those crowded nights full of rich people and expensive drinks, held in a curated gallery that knew how to make its own name sound like a password. It was always good to go. My work had been solving my temporary money problem, but beauty and youth have an expiration date. I wasn't in the habit of betting everything on a single solution. I had plans. And yes, a rich husband was still at the top of the list. An excellent option. Because in the end, the world forgives almost anything when you're in the right place beside the right man. I went into the living room, where Bella was watching TV. "Sweetheart, Mommy's
Gwen's POV The checkout counter felt smaller than it was, like the bags. Many, organized, with tissue paper and understated ribbons. Were taking up space inside me too. Space I was trying to keep clear. The saleswoman scanned each item with almost elegant efficiency. I stood beside Nick watching, and for one rare moment I could feel the good weight of the scene. The two of us buying baby things like a normal couple. Like the world wasn't constantly trying to walk into our living room and decide how we should exist. "Perfect," the saleswoman said when she finished the last item in the system. "We'll arrange delivery. What address should we use?" The question hung in the air with the simplicity of something obvious. And even so, my body froze for a second. Nick's did too. We looked at each other. It wasn't dramatic. It was clean, direct. Like the question had pulled on a thread we'd been avoiding holding. On any other day, I would have answered automatically, without th
Gwen's POV Florentia sunlight had that quality that made everything feel possible for a few hours. Like the city was offering me a truce. A small window where nothing was urgent, nothing was a headline, nothing was a courtroom. I held Nick's hand on the way to the hospital parking lot and felt his palm relax in mine. Not completely. He wasn't a man who ever relaxed completely. But enough for me to know the news had landed like water on dry ground. A girl. I repeated the word in my head the way you test expensive fabric. Carefully. Afraid to tear it. "You're smiling," he said as he opened the car door. "I'm trying not to cry again," I replied, my voice carrying that light honesty that only shows up when you're too tired to perform. He touched the back of my neck for a second. A quick, protective gesture. Then he got into the driver's seat and went quiet, staring ahead. Nick didn't celebrate the way people celebrate. He stored things. Like every joy had to be checked fi
Gwen's POV Lunch with Mia was exactly what I promised Nick it would be. A controlled break. A public place. A conversation that looked normal to anyone watching from the outside. Mia talked about the chaos at headquarters. The sideways glances. How certain members of the board had already settled on their version before any investigation had even begun. I listened, responded, sorted priorities in my head the way I always did. But under the table, my leg wouldn't stop bouncing. Every sentence from Mia was a reminder that time had become the enemy. That I was fighting two wars at once. The one making headlines and the one happening inside a house in Montelira, behind a locked door. Matthew's plan was still there, spinning, fitting pieces together on its own, like my brain didn't know how to shut off. He was right about one thing. We could still catch her. Just not today. Not right now. Today I was putting the plan in a mental drawer and locking it. Today I was going to be a w
Gwen's POV The next day, I went back to Kensington headquarters. Not because I was pretending things were normal. Normal ended the moment my name made headlines next to the word kidnapping. And because we had agreed. No messages, no calls, no dramatic voice notes. In person. Renee wasn't just vindictive, she was smart. She understood how a small piece could turn into an avalanche if you pushed it down the right slope. And I had no idea how far her reach extended. I only knew that underestimating her was a luxury I couldn't afford. If Renee got her hands on my phone, on a message thread, on any sentence of mine taken out of context, she would turn it into evidence of harassment. I took a breath and decided. No ammunition. Just action. So I walked into the building with my heart in my throat. The elevator took me to the executive floor and, for a second, I felt the physical dissonance. That hallway was still mine, but the chair at the end of it wasn't. My name was on the
Kensington Villa was lit only by the silver glow of the moon and the stars scattered across the Castorian sky. Our feet, still stained purple from grape juice, left marks along the stone path as we walked side by side, our shoulders brushing now and then. "I'm ruined," I said, glancing at my white
The private jet sliced through the sky toward Solara Bay, leaving behind the Highridge Valley and the chaotic weekend we'd just survived. Out the window, the sun was setting, painting the clouds pink and orange. On any other day, it would've been the kind of view that held me captive. But my thought
"Afraid of me, I guess," I said softly. "Afraid of actually being happy." Christian studied me for a moment, as if trying to absorb every layer of what I'd just confessed. His fingers traced gentle patterns against mine, that familiar touch grounding me instantly. "Explain that to me," he said q
I ran through the halls of Silvercrest Medical Center like my life depended on it, my heart pounding so hard it hurt to breathe. The fluorescent lights blurred above me, and the antiseptic smell made me queasy—or maybe it was the pregnancy hormones mixing with sheer panic. "Christian Kensington,"







