chapter 40

THEA

Finn has gone to school.

I dropped him straight from home.

Home.

Not a possibly sterile visit with court-monitored drop-offs and anxious check-ins. Not a headache from the possibility of a string of hours measured and dissected by Sebastian, not some awkward tug-of-war between two people who once promised forever and failed spectacularly.

He’s mine again. Fully, completely, no ifs.

The weight of it crashes into me all over again.

I bite down on a sob.

Jesus, Thea. 

It still feels surreal but I should hold it together right?

But how do you hold together something that’s been cracked down the middle for so long? How do you keep your voice steady when the ache in your chest feels like it’s unraveling you from the inside?

It wasn’t just a custody battle. It was a war I fought with everything I had. My name, my time, my sanity. I fought for my son. Even when they said I was too busy, too cold, too career-focused. When Sebastian dragged me through mud and whispered poison into every open ear. When the world looked at a working mother and asked, But are you enough?

I was always enough.

I was.

But I couldn’t always prove it.

And now—I don’t have to. Now, I can breathe again without wondering who’s watching. Now, I can set his plate at the dinner table without thinking about how Sebastian would complain endlessly even on Saturdays. Even when I wake up early. Now, I can kiss his forehead when he’s sleeping and not feel like I’m stealing borrowed time.

But…

God.

There’s this strange sadness under the joy, like I missed so much I can never get back even if it's just months. Like I’ll never forgive myself for not seeing all of it—the way he ate his birthday cake, how he looked in that picture.

What if he’s changed? What if I don’t recognize the shape of his happiness anymore?

What if he looks at me and doesn’t trust me the same way?

What if I fail him again?

I close my eyes and press my forehead to the steering wheel.

No. No.

He was the one that told me he wanted me.

Yes, I'm overthinking it.

A chuckle slips past my lips.

I remember the first time I held him.

How tiny he was. Red-faced and screaming like the world had already disappointed him. And me, crying harder than he did, because at that moment, I wasn’t a M.D or a powerhouse or a planner—I was just… a mother.

He was the first thing I ever built that didn’t come with a five-year plan.

He taught me how to love in chaos. How to soften without breaking. How to carry the weight of being someone’s whole world and still keep the lights on and the meetings running and the damn laundry folded.

And now I get to do it all again.

This time, I won’t let go.

The car pulls to a stop.

I sit there for a minute too long, letting the silence breathe around me. I’d forgotten I was even on the way to the office. My one week leave is over and now, I probably have to repay my debt considering the fact that he'd sent for me.

But I just hope he would have forgotten or let go.

I swipe at my eyes, fix my lipstick with shaking fingers, and open the door, excitement and fear thrumming through my veins.

The building is too bright.

I walk through the lobby, head held high as I take the elevator up. The doors open.

His office is down the hall, mine is near,  but I stop just short.

Because suddenly, all I can think about is him.

No, not Finn.

Ezra.

He's definitely behind that door.

And everything is gone now, replaced by this burning liquid fire in my veins.

His help came with a price. And now… the bill’s come due.

My heels click soft against the marble as I move closer, heart thudding against my ribs, skin too tight for the heat pulsing through it.

I remember the way he looked at me the last time—like he could devour me and still come back for seconds. Like my heartbreak was a luxury he could afford to indulge in, but my body was the real currency.

I press my hand against the wall beside his door.

It’s cool.

I’m not.

He owns the room behind this door.

And if I step inside now, he just might own me too.

I don't know how long I stand there.

But then, the door swings open and I'm staring at the devil in the eyes, mine widening.

His lips curve in a smirk as he leans against the frame.  “Are you not going to come in?"

I force a smile and step past him like I’m not flustered.

Like my knees aren’t made of water and my mind isn’t a mess of half-finished fantasies and denial.

His cologne hits me first—rich, dark, almost sinful. It trails behind me as I walk to the chair opposite his desk and sit. My legs cross instinctively, a barrier I know won’t hold.

“Relax,” he says, shutting the door behind him.

I do the opposite.

Ezra rounds the desk, casual as ever. A black button-down rolled at the sleeves. Watch glinting at his wrist. He takes his seat like a king returning to his throne, then picks up a folder and tosses it toward me.

I catch it, frowning slightly as I set my purse down on my thighs. “What's this?”

“Q2 client pipeline. You missed a week. And you should evaluate before noon check-in.

I nod thoughtfully as I open it even though I feel nothing but.

I feel his eyes on me for a few seconds before he straightens. He reaches for the tablet on his desk, unlocks it with a lazy swipe, and starts speaking.

“The Germany acquisition fell through. Logistics nightmare. That means we’re reallocating the budget to the branch in Italy.”

I nod slowly. “Makes sense. Are we still negotiating with Castellini Group?”

“We are,” he says. “But they’re pushing for a majority stake. Same with Elowen & co. I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either,” I murmur, flipping through the pages. “Their board’s volatile. The minute we give them power, they’ll gut the brand.”

He hums his agreement, watching me too closely.

I focus harder. “We could offer a limited-time JV structure—short-term leverage in exchange for long-term exclusivity. That’ll bait them into playing fair.” I raise my head to meet his eyes. “What do you think?”

Ezra gives a slow nod as he sips from a matte-black mug. Then, he sets it down. “Smart. You always did think five steps ahead.”

I smile tightly. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

“Among other things.”

I freeze. Just a second. Just a flicker.

But he sees it. 

I clear my throat. “Anyway,” I say, shifting the conversation back. “I’ll set up a call with legal. We’ll draft the JV terms and get Castellini’s legal on board. I can loop in Mathers and Edric.”

“I’ll handle Edric,” he says easily, still watching me. “You focus on Castellini.”

He’s letting me take the lead. Trusting me with it.

Why does that make it harder to breathe?

I press my palm to the folder, grounding myself. “Alright. Anything else I should know before the noon check-in?”

He lifts his mug again, leans back in that chair like he’s lounging in his own private throne room. “You tell me, Thea. Anything else… you want to discuss?”

My fingers twitch.

My legs uncross, recross. Uncross again.

I exhale through my nose. “No, I think that covers everything for this mor… for today.”

I stand and smoothen my skirt.

But I don’t move to leave.

Because he hasn’t said it. Hasn’t brought it up.

And somehow, that feels worse.

Like he’s letting me dangle in the space between the memory and the deal I made.

And I hate that I’m waiting for it.

I glance at him.

He’s still watching me. Still too quiet. Still too still.

Then—

He sighs and sets the mug down like he’s done… playing nice? 

“Are we just going to keep beating around the bush, Thea?”

Just like that, the air shifts.

The silence turns into tension, thick and pulsing.

I blink as I slowly settle back into the seat I just stood up from. “What?”

He tilts his head. “You heard me.”

“I thought—” My voice falters. “I thought we were done with that.”

“You thought wrong.”

I open my mouth to argue. To deny it. To say what exactly? That I didn’t agree? That I didn’t call him that day, desperate and drowning and whispering yes to anything that looked like oxygen?

He leans forward, forearms resting on the desk. His voice drops.

“You’re doing that thing again. Rubbing your thighs together.”

My heart slams against my ribs.

“I’m not—”

“You are.” He smirks, his pale blue eyes twinkling in amusement as he stands up, like a predator stretching before the kill. He looms over me. “The rustling. The way you keep adjusting.”

“Ezra—”

“You walked in here like you didn't remember what you promised me.”

“I–”

“But I'm sure your body does.”

“Tell me the truth.” He continues, voice dark as he rakes his eyes over my face, down my neck and into the little cleavage of my boobs. “If I walked around this desk right now and put my hand between your legs, would I find you dripping for me?”