The Morning After the Mask

Monday morning arrived with a sharp, crisp clarity that felt different from any other start to the week. Ava didn't need her third alarm to wake up. The adrenaline from the weekend was still humming in her veins, a quiet reminder of the emerald velvet and the way the world had felt when Lucian held her hand on the dance floor.

As she stepped into the office, the usual morning bustle felt hushed. People weren't just typing; they were whispering. Heads turned as she walked past the glass partitions of the marketing department.

By the time she reached her desk, she saw why.

On top of her morning mail sat a copy of the New York Ledger. The front page of the "City Life" section featured a high-resolution photo from the gala. It was the moment Lucian had led her onto the dance floor. The lighting caught the shimmer of her dress and the uncharacteristically soft expression on his face as he looked down at her.

The headline read: The Ice King’s New Strategic Partner? Blackwood Debuts Mysterious Guest at Founders Gala.

"Nice photo," a voice said.

Ava jumped slightly, turning to see Marcus, Lucian’s driver and personal security, standing by the elevator. He was holding a coffee, a small, knowing smirk on his face. "The boss is already in. He’s been in since six. He’s seen the papers."

"Is he... is he angry?" Ava asked, her heart doing a nervous flutter.

"Angry?" Marcus let out a dry chuckle. "He hasn't stopped working long enough to say. But he did tell the PR team to 'let it be.' That’s usually his way of saying he doesn't care what they think."

Ava took a deep breath, straightened her blazer, and gathered her tablet. She walked toward the heavy mahogany doors of Lucian’s office. She didn't knock; she never had to during the morning briefing.

Lucian was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to her. He was already in his shirtsleeves, his tie loosened—a sign that he had been deep in thought for hours. The newspaper was folded neatly on his desk, the photo of them facing upward.

"The PR department is losing their minds, I assume," Lucian said without turning around.

"Only slightly," Ava replied, stepping into the room. "The consensus is that I’m either a secret heiress or a very effective distraction."

Lucian turned then. He didn't look stressed. If anything, he looked more energized than she had seen him in weeks. "And what do you think?"

"I think the data on the Heart Research Foundation’s donations went up forty percent after the photos hit the digital editions," she said, tapping her tablet. "So, as a strategy, it was highly effective."

Lucian moved toward her, stopping just at the edge of his desk. He looked at the photo for a brief second, then back at her. "I don't care about the donations right now, Ava. I care if you’re okay with it. This level of attention... it isn't easy."

"I can handle it," she said, and for the first time, she truly believed it. "After Julianna Sterling, a few headlines feel like light reading."

Lucian’s expression softened, a ghost of the man from the dance floor reappearing. "Good. Because we have a meeting with the board in twenty minutes. They’re going to be looking for any sign that I’ve lost my focus."

"Then let's show them that we're just getting started," Ava said.

For the next three hours, they were a seamless team. In the boardroom, Ava was sharp, providing the numbers before the directors could even ask for them. Lucian was commanding, steering the conversation with a renewed vigor. They worked in perfect sync, a duo that silenced the room through sheer competence.

It wasn't until the office began to empty for lunch that the phone on Ava’s desk rang. It was the recovery center.

"Miss Reed? This is the head nurse at the Silver Oaks Pavilion. I have some good news. Your mother’s latest tests came back better than expected. Dr. Lawson has cleared her for discharge this afternoon."

Ava felt a wave of relief so strong she had to sit down. "Truly? She can come home?"

"She can. She’ll need some assistance, of course, but she’s ready."

As she hung up, she realized Lucian was standing in the doorway of his office, watching her. He had clearly heard the excitement in her voice.

"She's going home?" he asked.

"Yes," Ava said, her eyes bright. "Jamie—Dr. Lawson—cleared her."

Lucian nodded, his hand resting on the doorframe. "Take the afternoon, Ava. Marcus is already downstairs. He’ll drive you to the facility and help you get her settled at your apartment."

"Lucian, you don't have to—"

"I know I don't," he interrupted, his tone firm but kind. "But I want to ensure the transition is smooth. Go. I’ll handle the afternoon calls."

As Ava grabbed her bag, she paused by his door. "Thank you. For everything this weekend. It wasn't just about the gala."

Lucian looked at her, and for a moment, the distance of the office seemed to vanish. "I know it wasn't," he said quietly.

The drive to the Silver Oaks Pavilion was surprisingly quiet. Marcus was a professional through and through, but as they pulled up to the manicured entrance of the facility, he glanced at Ava through the rearview mirror.

"She’s a fighter, your mom," he said simply. "Mr. Blackwood had me checking in with the staff every morning while you were off. They said she’s got a sense of humor that kept the night shift on their toes."

Ava smiled, a knot of tension in her chest finally loosening. "That sounds like her."

The discharge process was smooth, a testament to the high-end care Lucian had insisted upon. When Ava’s mother, Elena, finally emerged in a wheelchair pushed by a young nurse, she looked more vibrant than she had in months. Her hair was brushed, her eyes were sharp, and she was clutching a small bouquet of flowers the staff had given her.

"Look at this car!" Elena chirped as Marcus stepped out to help her into the backseat. "Ava, honestly, I feel like I’m being kidnapped by the secret service."

"Only the best for you, Mom," Ava said, tucking a blanket around her mother’s legs.

By the time they reached Ava’s apartment, the sun was beginning to dip below the skyline, casting long, amber shadows across the living room. Marcus helped get Elena settled into the armchair—the one with the best view of the window—and brought up her bags before giving Ava a respectful nod and heading back to the office.

The apartment felt small after the grandeur of the weekend, but it felt like theirs.

"He's a good man, that Lucian," Elena said, her voice a bit weary but satisfied as she sipped the tea Ava had made. "Most men with that much money just send a check. He sent his own people to make sure I got through the door."

"He's... complicated, Mom. But he's been a good friend," Ava replied, though even to her own ears, the word friend felt insufficient.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. Ava checked the peephole and was surprised to see a delivery person holding a massive, overflowing crate of groceries and a separate, smaller box from a high-end Italian bistro.

"I didn't order this," Ava said as she opened the door.

"Delivery for Miss Reed. It’s already paid for," the man said, setting the heavy crate on her counter.

Once he left, Ava found a small, cream-colored card tucked into the side of the crate. The handwriting was unmistakable—sharp, elegant, and decisive.

"The first night back is always the hardest. Don’t worry about the kitchen. Focus on her."— L.B.

Inside the crate wasn't just basic groceries; it was everything she could possibly need for the week—fresh fruit, artisanal bread, high-quality proteins, and even her favorite brand of tea. The bistro box contained a warm, three-course meal for two, still steaming and smelling of garlic and fresh herbs.

"Well," Elena said, eyeing the spread. "I think 'complicated' might be an understatement, Ava."

Ava laughed, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and something deeper. She began to unpack the food, but her mind kept drifting back to the office. She thought of Lucian sitting in that quiet, glass-walled room, likely still working, yet taking the time to make sure her kitchen was full.

Just as they were finishing dinner, her phone buzzed. It wasn't a text from Lucian. It was a photo from Jamie.

It was a picture of a medical journal article about a new physical therapy technique. Below it, he had written: Saw this and thought of your mom. I can come by tomorrow after my shift to show her some of the movements if you want. I'll bring the good coffee.

Ava looked at the phone, then at the empty bistro box from Lucian. Two men, two different worlds, both trying to anchor her in their own way.

"Who's that?" Elena asked, noticing the look on Ava's face.

"Just Jamie," Ava said softly. "He wants to help with your therapy."

Elena watched her daughter for a long moment, her mother’s intuition as sharp as ever despite her illness. "It’s a lot of people looking out for you all of a sudden, isn't it? Make sure you don't forget to look out for yourself in the middle of it all."

The following morning, Ava decided to head into the office for a few hours while her mother napped. She felt a strange pull toward the glass and steel of Blackwood Enterprises, a need to be back in the orbit where things felt fast and decisive.

She was deep into a quarterly projection when the elevator chimes rang. Usually, the executive floor was silent, but today, the sound of sharp, rhythmic clicks of stiletto heels echoed against the marble. It wasn't the steady, familiar gait of a staff member. It was the sound of someone who owned the floor they walked on.

Julianna Sterling rounded the corner, looking every bit the ice queen in a tailored white power suit that made her look like a winter storm. She didn't stop at the reception desk; she walked straight toward Lucian’s office.

"He's in a conference call, Julianna," Ava said, standing up. Her voice was calm, but her pulse was steady and alert.

Julianna stopped, her hand hovering over the silver handle of Lucian’s door. She turned slowly, her eyes raking over Ava’s simple navy dress with a look of practiced boredom. "The help speaks. How charming."

"I'm the Chief of Staff," Ava corrected, her voice dropping into a professional chill. "And his schedule is my responsibility. If you don't have an appointment, you’ll have to wait in the lounge."

Julianna actually laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. She walked toward Ava’s desk, leaning over it just enough to be intrusive. "You really think that emerald dress changed the hierarchy, don't you? You think because he danced with you in front of a few cameras, you’re suddenly the gatekeeper of his life."

"I think I'm the person currently doing the job you walked away from years ago," Ava replied.

Julianna’s eyes flashed with a sudden, genuine heat. "I didn't walk away. I was traded for a merger that never happened. And unlike you, I know exactly what lies behind that door. Lucian doesn't want a partner, Ava. He wants a mirror. He wants someone who reflects his own ambition back at him until he gets bored of the view."

She reached into her designer bag and pulled out a thick, legal-sized envelope, dropping it onto Ava’s desk with a heavy thud.

"Give that to him," Julianna said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous silk. "It’s a formal notice of the Sterling Group’s intent to contest the acquisition of the Hudson yards. My father isn't playing games anymore, and neither am I. If Lucian wants a war, tell him we’re standing at his borders."

She leaned in closer, the scent of white lilies cloying and heavy. "And a word of advice, Miss Reed. When the walls start coming down—and they will—men like Lucian don't save the people around them. They just find a more reinforced room."

Julianna turned on her heel and swept toward the elevators without a backward glance.

The silence that followed was deafening. Ava looked at the envelope, her mind already racing through the implications. The Hudson acquisition was the cornerstone of Lucian’s five-year plan. If the Sterlings contested it, it could tie the firm up in litigation for years.

The door to Lucian’s office opened. He stood there, looking at the elevator doors that were just closing, then down at the envelope on Ava’s desk. He didn't look surprised. He looked like a man who had been expecting the first shot to be fired.

"She was here," he stated.

"She brought a gift," Ava said, sliding the envelope toward him.

Lucian didn't pick it up. He walked over to her desk, his presence grounding the room. He looked at Ava, his gaze searching her face for any sign of the "tremors" Julianna had mentioned at the gala.

"What did she say to you?" he asked quietly.

"That you don't save the people around you," Ava said, meeting his gray eyes. "And that I'm just a mirror."

Lucian reached out, his hand hovering near hers for a second before he picked up the envelope. "She’s wrong about the mirror, Ava. I’ve spent my whole life looking at mirrors. I brought you to that gala because for the first time, I wanted to see something else."

He tucked the envelope under his arm, his expression hardening into the "Ice King" persona, but his eyes remained on hers. "Call the legal team. Tell them to meet us in the war room in ten minutes. If the Sterlings want a fight, we’ll give them one they can’t afford."

The "War Room" was a soundproofed glass chamber at the heart of the executive floor, filled with whiteboards, high-resolution screens, and a heavy air of caffeine and tension. By 2:00 PM, the legal team had been dismissed, leaving only Lucian and Ava amidst a sea of scattered documents and half-empty espresso cups.

Lucian stood at the window, his tie discarded on a chair. He was staring out at the Manhattan skyline as if he could see the Sterling Global headquarters from there.

"They're targeting the environmental permits," Ava said, rubbing her temples. She was circling a clause in the Hudson acquisition files. "It’s a stalling tactic, Lucian. They know they can’t win the bid, so they’re going to bleed us dry on legal fees and construction delays until the investors lose patience."

"Arthur’s signature move," Lucian muttered without turning. "He doesn't build; he sabotages."

Ava looked at the document again. Something was bothering her. She began flipping back through the Sterling Group’s recent filings—data she had requested Marcus pull an hour ago.

"Wait," she whispered. Her pen hovered over a graph. "Lucian, look at this."

He turned, crossing the room in three long strides to lean over her shoulder. His proximity was distracting, but Ava stayed focused on the numbers.

"The Sterlings are overleveraged," she pointed out, her finger tracing a line on the screen. "They’re putting everything into this contest. Julianna said they were standing at your borders, but look at their liquid assets. They aren't standing; they're leaning. They’re using their daughter’s personal trust to back the litigation."

Lucian’s eyes sharpened. He leaned closer, his hand resting on the back of her chair. "They're desperate. Arthur is gambling his family’s private wealth to spite me."

"It’s not just spite," Ava said, turning to look at him. Their faces were inches apart. "It’s a bluff. If we don't blink—if we accelerate the timeline instead of slowing down—they’ll run out of capital before the first hearing."

A slow, predatory smile spread across Lucian’s face. It wasn't the cold mask he showed the board; it was the look of a man who had just found the winning move. "You want to call their bluff by doubling the investment."

"I want to bury them in the timeline," Ava replied. "Force them to prove they have the funds to match us. They don't."

Lucian looked at her, his gaze intense and appreciative. For a moment, the war room felt very quiet. "Julianna called you a mirror," he said softly. "But she was wrong. You see the things I miss because I’m too busy looking for a fight."

He straightened up, but he didn't move away. "Make the call to the lead architect. Tell them we’re breaking ground two months early. I’ll personally guarantee the indemnity bonds."

"That’s a massive risk, Lucian," Ava warned, though her heart was pounding with the thrill of the move.

"Risk is just a calculation you haven't finished yet," he said, repeating a line she had used in her first week. He reached out, his thumb catching a stray lock of hair that had fallen from her chignon, tucking it gently behind her ear. "And I trust your math, Ava."

The moment was interrupted by the chime of the elevator. Marcus stepped in, looking uncharacteristically hesitant.

"Sir? Dr. Lawson is downstairs. He says he tried to call Miss Reed but she didn't pick up. He says it’s about her mother’s physical therapy schedule, but... he seems insistent on coming up."

Ava checked her phone. Six missed calls. She had been so deep in the Sterling files she hadn't heard a thing.

Lucian’s jaw tightened. The warmth in the room evaporated, replaced by the familiar, icy silence. He looked at the elevator, then back at Ava.

"It seems your past and your present are competing for your time today," Lucian said, his voice dropping into a neutral, professional clip. "Send him up, Marcus. We’re done here for now anyway."

Ava stood up, feeling the shift in the air. "Lucian, I can handle this. He probably just has concerns about the home equipment."

"I'm sure he does," Lucian said, walking back to his desk and picking up his pen. He didn't look at her. "He’s a very... thorough doctor."

A minute later, the glass doors slid open, and Jamie stepped into the high-tech, high-pressure world of Blackwood Enterprises. He was still in his scrubs, a stark contrast to the sleek, monochrome office. He looked at the whiteboards filled with aggressive strategies, then at Lucian, and finally at Ava.

"I'm sorry to barge in," Jamie said, his eyes scanning the room. "But your mother had a dizzy spell. She’s fine now, but I wanted to talk to you about the stress levels in the apartment. And maybe... about how much you’re actually there."

Lucian looked up from his papers, his eyes cold as flint. "She’s here because she’s essential, Doctor. I believe that’s a concept you understand."

The tension in the room was physical, a sharp, invisible line drawn between the man in the designer suit and the man in the medical scrubs.

Jamie didn’t flinch at Lucian’s tone. He stepped further into the room, his sneakers silent on the plush carpet where Julianna’s heels had clicked so aggressively earlier. He looked at Lucian, then turned his gaze back to Ava.

"Essential is one thing, Ava," Jamie said, his voice calm but underscored with a physician’s authority. "But she’s home now. The recovery isn't just about the medicine; it's about the environment. I went by to check on her after my shift, and she was trying to cook for herself because she didn't want to 'bother' you at your big job."

"I have groceries delivered, Jamie. Everything she needs is there," Ava said, feeling a flush of defensive guilt.

"She needs you," Jamie countered softly. "She had a minor orthostatic episode. She tripped, Ava. If I hadn't been there to catch her..."

Lucian stood up slowly. He didn't move around his desk, but his presence seemed to double in size. "If the apartment is the issue, I can arrange for a 24-hour private nurse to be stationed there by nightfall. Ava’s presence, while valuable at home, is required here to manage a crisis that involves the future of this firm."

Jamie turned to face Lucian fully. "A nurse is a stranger in her house. Ava is her daughter. You see a 'crisis' in a spreadsheet, Mr. Blackwood. I see a woman who almost ended up back in the ER because she was trying to prove she wasn't a burden to her daughter's career."

"Jamie, that’s enough," Ava stepped between them, her hands raised. She looked at Lucian, whose jaw was set in a rigid line, then at Jamie, whose eyes were filled with a frustrated kind of care.

"I'll go home," Ava said, her voice final. "I'll take my laptop and finish the Sterling filings from the kitchen table."

Lucian’s eyes snapped to hers. For a moment, she saw a flicker of something—not anger, but a strange sort of abandonment—before the mask of the Ice King clicked back into place. "The Groundbreaking indemnity forms need to be filed by 8:00 AM. If you can manage that between 'home movements,' then do what you must."

"I'll have them done," Ava promised.

Jamie reached for her bag, a natural, protective gesture that made Lucian’s eyes narrow to slits. "Come on, Ava. My car is downstairs. I'll drive you."

As they walked toward the elevator, Ava felt Lucian’s gaze on her back. Just before the doors slid shut, she looked back. He was standing by the window again, silhouetted against the vast, cold skyline of the city he was trying to conquer. He looked powerful, successful, and entirely alone.

The silence in Jamie’s car was a different kind of heavy.

"He's got his hooks in you, doesn't he?" Jamie asked as they hit the afternoon traffic.

"It’s not 'hooks,' Jamie. It’s a career. It’s the reason she’s in that nice facility and not a state ward."

"I know that," Jamie sighed, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "I just don't want to see you become like him. Look at that office, Ava. It’s a fortress. Is that really where you see yourself in five years? Guarding a fortress for a man who doesn't know how to turn off?"

Ava didn't answer. She looked out the window, her mind split between the mother waiting for her in a small apartment and the man standing alone in a glass tower.

The following morning, Ava arrived at the office at 7:30 AM, her eyes slightly tired from a night spent toggling between checking her mother’s blood pressure and finalizing the indemnity bonds on her kitchen table. She expected the atmosphere to be frantic, a "war room" in full swing.

Instead, the executive floor was eerily quiet.

When she reached her desk, she found a small, sleek tablet sitting on her keyboard with a sticky note attached: Check the updated project registry. — M.

Ava frowned and opened the internal server. Her heart nearly stopped. The Hudson Yards project—the one they had spent all day yesterday strategizing to defend—wasn't just moving forward. Lucian had restructured the entire ownership entity overnight.

He hadn't just accelerated the timeline; he had created a subsidiary foundation named after the Heart Research Foundation and transferred a significant portion of the development’s future dividends to it. By doing so, any legal attack from the Sterlings wouldn't just be an attack on Blackwood Enterprises—it would be a public relations nightmare of attacking a charitable medical trust.

It was a brilliant, ruthless, and surprisingly human move.

She walked toward his office, but before she could reach the door, she saw Marcus standing near the kitchenette, overseeing two men who were setting up a high-end, ergonomic workstation in a small, sun-drenched alcove right next to the executive lounge.

"What is this?" Ava asked.

"The boss's orders," Marcus said, gesturing to the setup. It featured a double-monitor array, a high-speed encrypted link, and—most surprisingly—a comfortable recliner tucked in the corner. "He said if you’re going to be splitting your time, you shouldn't have to choose. He’s arranged for a private car to shuttle your mother here during the day if she’s up for it. There's a private recovery suite on the 42nd floor with a nurse on call."

Ava stood frozen. Lucian hadn't just provided a "nurse in a stranger's house." He had effectively brought her world into his.

She pushed open the doors to his office. Lucian was sitting at his desk, perfectly composed, a cup of black coffee in hand. He didn't look like he had slept at all, yet he looked revitalized.

"The charitable trust move," Ava began, her voice slightly breathless. "The Sterlings can't touch the project now without looking like villains."

"Strategy is about changing the landscape so the enemy has nowhere to stand," Lucian said, setting his coffee down. He looked at her, his gaze lingering on the slight shadows under her eyes. "I assume the filings are complete?"

"They are. I uploaded them at 4:00 AM."

"Good." He stood up and walked around the desk. He didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of her. "I don't like being told I don't know how to 'turn off,' Ava. And I certainly don't like the idea of my Chief of Staff tripping over a laptop cord while trying to play nurse."

"Lucian, the office setup... the 42nd floor... it’s too much."

"It's efficient," he countered, though his voice had lost its icy edge. "It ensures you are where I need you to be, and your mother is where you need her to be. It removes the 'stress' the doctor was so concerned about."

He reached out, his hand pausing for a second before he lightly tapped the tablet she was holding. "The Sterlings will try to retaliate by the end of the day. I want you focused. Can you do that if she’s only a few floors away?"

Ava looked at him, realizing that this was his version of an apology—and his version of care. He wasn't going to bring her flowers or tell her to take a week off. He was going to build a fortress that included the people she loved.

"I can," Ava said.

"Good," Lucian murmured. "Then let's get to work. Arthur Sterling is currently having a very bad morning, and I’d like to make it worse."

Jamie arrived at the office shortly after 5:00 PM, still in his white lab coat, having bypassed the lobby security with a guest pass Ava had left for him. He expected to find Ava exhausted in her small apartment; instead, he stepped into the hushed, high-tech cathedral of Blackwood Enterprises.

When he saw the "nest"—the ergonomic setup, the private nurse chatting with Elena in the sun-drenched alcove, and the sheer level of bespoke luxury surrounding them—he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Jamie! Look at this view," Elena called out, waving a hand toward the floor-to-ceiling glass. "I can see the park from my chair!"

Jamie didn't look at the view. He looked at Ava, who was standing by a sleek glass desk, surrounded by monitors flickering with legal data and construction blueprints.

"What is this, Ava?" Jamie asked, his voice low and strained. "I come to check on my patient, and I find her in a corporate showroom."

"It’s not a showroom, Jamie. It’s a solution," Ava said, stepping toward him. "Lucian—Mr. Blackwood—offered this so I could work and keep an eye on her at the same time. She has a nurse, she has her therapy, and she isn't alone."

Jamie’s eyes flickered to Lucian’s closed office door. "It’s a gilded cage. He’s moved your entire life into his line of sight so you never have a reason to leave. Do you even hear how insane this is?"

"It’s efficient, Doctor," a voice interrupted.

Lucian had opened his door, leaning against the frame with his sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the architect of the world Jamie was criticizing.

"Efficient for you," Jamie countered, stepping toward him. "You’ve turned her mother into a business expense. You’ve commodified her care just to keep your best strategist from taking a lunch break."

"I’ve provided the best medical care money can buy," Lucian said, his voice dropping into that dangerous, low vibration. "Which is more than a 'good coffee' and a few house calls can achieve. If you’re concerned about her health, look at the charts. If you’re concerned about your pride, take it outside."

"Jamie, please," Ava said, her hand on Jamie’s arm. "He’s helped us."

Jamie looked down at her hand, then back at Lucian. The look in his eyes wasn't just jealousy—it was a profound sense of loss. He realized that the gap between him and Ava wasn't just about money; it was about the world she was now choosing to inhabit. A world where problems weren't just solved, they were dominated.

"I’ll check the vitals," Jamie said stiffly, turning toward Elena.

For the next hour, the office was a theatre of silent tensions. Jamie performed his exam with clinical precision, avoiding eye contact with Lucian, who stayed in his office with the door open, a silent sentry over his domain.

When Jamie finally finished, he didn't stay for tea. He walked Ava to the elevator, the silence between them heavy and cold.

"I’ll see you at the apartment this weekend?" Jamie asked as the doors opened.

"I... I might have to be here for the groundbreaking prep," Ava admitted softly.

Jamie gave a sad, knowing nod. "Right. The mission. Just be careful, Ava. When you live in a fortress, you eventually forget what the air feels like outside the vents."

The elevator closed, leaving Ava alone in the hall. She walked back into the office, where the lights had dimmed to a soft evening glow. Her mother was already dozing in the recliner, a soft blanket tucked around her.

Lucian was standing by her desk, holding the two cups of coffee he had ordered from the downstairs cafe. He handed one to her.

"He's a good man, Ava," Lucian said quietly, his gaze fixed on the elevator Jamie had just left. "But he thinks the world is a place where you just accept what’s given. You and I? We know better."

Ava took the coffee, the warmth of the cup seeping into her palms. She looked at her mother, then at the vast, glowing city beyond the glass, and finally at the man standing beside her.

The lines had been drawn. The Sterlings were at the gates, Jamie was on the outside looking in, and she was exactly where she had fought to be: at the center of the storm, standing next to the man who had built a world just to keep her in it.