ログインTwelve minutes later, I turned into our driveway with one Jeep still following behind me and the other pulling to a stop across the street.I couldn’t tell whether they were deliberately trying to be discreet or genuinely didn’t understand that two enormous black vehicles in a quiet Lake Oswego neighborhood had all the subtlety of a tank parked outside a flower shop.I drove into the garage.The door was only halfway up when Issa unbuckled her seat belt.“Don’t get out until the car stops.”“I’m just preparing.”“You’re standing.”“I’m preparing with my feet.”I pressed the brake, turned off the engine, and looked over my shoulder.Max had pressed an empty gelato cup to his ear like a phone.“Hello?” he said. “Chocolate King speaking.”Issa rolled her eyes as she unbuckled herself. “There’s no one there.”“You don’t know that. It’s Italian technology.”I opened my door and got out before the conversation developed into an international conspiracy theory.Cold, damp air drifted into th
Portland was wet outside. A thin drizzle clung to the glass, making the street look like a photo that hadn’t finished developing. Traffic lights stretched long across the asphalt.The twins’ preschool stood behind a white fence and wet maple trees, far too pretty for a place where my two children started daily riots. The building was low, all glass, pale wooden doors, neat flower pots, and one little sign that read “Spring Gelato Day!” in a cheerful font that made me suspect no adult in there had children like Max and Issa.I parked in the drop-off lane.Before I could open the door, the first Jeep stopped two cars behind me. The second one rolled past slowly, then parked across the street, facing outward. Whoever was inside didn’t get out.From the Jeep behind me, a man stepped out.Tall. Plain black jacket. Dark jeans. No obvious earpiece like some cheap-movie bodyguard, but the way he scanned the area made everyone near the fence suddenly look like part of a map. He walked toward m
The morning finally ended the way all mornings in my house ended: not actually over, just surrendered. Bianna came downstairs fifteen minutes later in a sage green hoodie, her hair clipped up with a claw clip, wearing the expression of a woman who immediately knew there was drama but was smart enough to prioritize caffeine consumption before interrogation.By eight-twelve, the twins had left for preschool with her.By eight-thirty, I was already sitting in my own office.Not Northlake.Not in their building that smelled like marble, old family secrets, and money that had never learned how to apologize. Not in their walnut conference room. Not in front of people who used the word “principal” like it wasn’t just another name for Zachary de Sanctis standing behind dark glass, controlling my life with a remote.My own building made much more sense.Floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking wet Portland. The dev team outside my office moved with its usual rhythm: keyboards, coffee, hoodies, heads
My house was too quiet. Just the sound of the key I forced into the lock with frozen fingers, my own short breathing, and the soft rain tapping against the large glass windows in the living room.I slipped inside like a thief.A thief with her dress on backward, bare feet, heels in hand, thighs cursing her in a universal language, and a mark on her neck that would make Theo immediately go out and buy a shovel.I closed the door softly.Very softly.Then I stood in the foyer for three seconds, listening.No Bianna.No Theo.No Max announcing himself as the “king of breakfast.”No Issa rejecting life because her hair had “no emotional support.”Good.Finally, the universe had given me one small gift after slapping me with a naked Italian man at six-thirty in the morning.I crossed the living room quickly and climbed the stairs while gripping the railing like a rich old woman getting off a ship. Every step gave my body a new report. Thighs. Hips. Neck. Head. All of them taking turns fili
His eyes moved from my hair, to my neck, to the dress I had thrown on all wrong.Slowly.Too slowly.Like he had all the time in the world to enjoy every piece of evidence that last night had not been a dream.“That dress looks better now,” he said.I picked up one of my heels from the floor. “If you finish that sentence, I will make sure you can’t have children ever again.”He chuckled.I hated that the sound still had the same effect as a warning light in a chemistry lab.Danger. Do not touch. Do not inhale for too long.“You’re sexier than you were five years ago,” he said.My heel flew.Unfortunately, his reflexes were still very good. Zach caught the shoe an inch before it hit his face. The bastard didn’t even look surprised. He only looked at the heel in his hand, then back at me.Right. Damn overachieving MIT jock with a superiority complex.“I see your aim has gotten worse.”“I’m hungover. Don’t get arrogant.”“You’ve always looked good when you’re mad.”“I’ll look even better
My head was heavy.Not regular heavy. Not the kind of heavy you got from not sleeping enough or sitting through too many meetings with corporate people who treated “urgent” like a lifestyle choice. This was the kind of heavy that felt like someone had poured wet cement into my skull and left it there overnight to harden.My body, on the other hand, felt too light.Strange. Unfair. Deeply suspicious.I opened my eyes slowly, and for the first few seconds, everything was just gray. A dark ceiling. Morning light slipping through the gap in the curtains. The smell of clean linen. Expensive wood. The smell of—I froze.Cologne.This was cologne my brain recognized in a humiliating way. Dark, clean, expensive, like someone could buy every moral law in existence and then burn it in a fireplace.No.No, no, no.I lowered my gaze to my own body and immediately glared.A white blanket covered me up to my chest, but underneath it, my skin was touching fabric directly. No dress. No bra. Nothing b
It took twenty-seven minutes, one threat involving a house slipper, two water negotiations, three accusations that Max was “taking too much oxygen,” and one lullaby from my mouth that was officially insulted by my own daughter before the house finally stopped sounding like a military training center
Night fell over Oregon in a way far too polite for a house currently being ruled by two tiny four-year-old criminals.Outside, rain clung to the large windows of the family room, its lines sliding down slowly like someone was trying to clean the world from the outside. Inside, the world refused to
Max narrowed his eyes. “You are not food.”Issa turned slowly. “Good.”“You are a cupcake that fell on the floor.”Issa blinked once. “I am an expensive cupcake,” she said. “You are a nugget someone forgot to cook.”Max immediately pouted. His round cheeks pushed forward, his blue eyes deeply offen
Max was trying to take one piece of strawberry from the side of Issa’s mug.Issa saw him. Her hand moved fast, small and ready to pinch.“Aw!” Max pulled his hand back, his lower lip immediately pushing forward. “Issa!”“That’s my strawberry.”“Your name isn’t on the strawberry.”“I saw it first.”







