DESTINY'S POVIt was past ten at night when Walker called to say he wouldn’t be coming home early. He was working late.That, in itself, wasn’t unusual. He often got caught up in work. But what worried me was the tone of his voice. It sounded strained, as if he was forcing the words out. Like he was trying to hide something.Actually, I’d noticed it earlier that morning.While we were having breakfast Logan called. I couldn't hear the details but it seemed urgent, especially with the way Walker's expression changed to something dark.I had asked him what the problem was but he only said that he needed to go to the office. Something was wrong. But I couldn't bring myself to ask him what because I was scared. I tried to busy myself cooking dinner and taking a nice warm bath before heading to bed.However, as soon as I laid down at 1 AM in the morning, the thoughts began to swirl in my head. And they seemed to be spiraling out of control. My chest and stomach felt tight, and I was swea
WALKER’S POVThe elevator ride felt longer than usual. I adjusted my tie, trying to push down the tightness in my chest. I hadn’t slept. Not after Destiny’s coldness. And definitely not after finding out the board meeting had been moved up a week.Something was wrong. The numbers didn’t lie—budgets were rerouted, deadlines missed, and approvals forged with my signature. Sabotage. And I had a good idea who was behind it.The elevator doors slid open.“Good morning, Director Anderson,” Marla greeted flatly. My grandmother’s assistant, always stiff. She gestured toward the boardroom. “They’re waiting. The Chairwoman asked for your punctuality.”Of course she did.Inside, the room was cold—ten board members murmuring, flipping through reports. At the head sat Lady Grace Anderson. My grandmother. Composed. Regal. Dangerous.“Walker,” she said without looking up. “Thank you for joining us.”I said nothing, taking the far seat across from her. Distance on purpose.“We’re here to discuss the
Destiny’s POV The knock came just after noon. Sharp. Measured. The kind of knock that didn’t belong to the sushi delivery I’d been expecting twenty minutes ago. I was still in my robe, curled up on the couch with a half-eaten bowl of strawberries and the nursery color samples spread out beside me again. I hadn’t touched them since the conversation with Walker that morning, but I couldn’t bring myself to put them away either. Another knock. Firmer this time. I moved slowly, pressing a hand to my belly as I stood. “Coming,” I called, tightening the robe around me. When I opened the door, the last person I expected to see was standing on the other side. “Mrs. Anderson,” I said, instantly stiffening. The smile I offered froze halfway across my face. Eleanor returned a polite, distant smile. Her trench coat was perfectly pressed, her heels clicking across the floor as she stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. “It seems I came right on time,” she said, glanci
Destiny’s POV The knock came just after noon. Sharp. Measured. The kind of knock that didn’t belong to the sushi delivery I’d been expecting twenty minutes ago. I was still in my robe, curled up on the couch with a half-eaten bowl of strawberries and the nursery color samples spread out beside me again. I hadn’t touched them since the conversation with Walker that morning, but I couldn’t bring myself to put them away either. Another knock. Firmer this time. I moved slowly, pressing a hand to my belly as I stood. “Coming,” I called, tightening the robe around me. When I opened the door, the last person I expected to see was standing on the other side. “Mrs. Anderson,” I said, instantly stiffening. The smile I offered froze halfway across my face. Eleanor returned a polite, distant smile. Her trench coat was perfectly pressed, her heels clicking across the floor as she stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. “It seems I came right on time,” she said, glancing around
Destiny's POVThe nursery paint samples sat untouched on the coffee table.Bold shades of emerald, sapphire, and midnight blue—like little swatches of hope laid out for a life we were finally beginning again. It should've felt exciting. Fun, even. But every time I looked at them, my chest tightened.Because something had shifted.Walker hadn't said anything about that call from Desmond two days ago. He still kissed me good morning and ran his hand along my bump with a reverence that melted me. He still made me breakfast and dinner, curled his body around mine during late-night TV binges, and traced soft circles on my skin when he thought I was asleep.But he was holding something back.I could feel it in the way his eyes drifted when he thought I wasn't looking. In the hesitation before he picked up his phone. In the way his jaw tensed every time a notification pinged and he didn't check it right away.He was quiet—but not in the gentle, contemplative way he used to be.This silence w
A month later I was brushing my hair in the mirror when I caught the curve of my belly in the reflection. It wasn't huge—just a small, gentle swell beneath my shirt—but it was enough to make my breath catch. A baby. Our baby. I ran my fingers over the bump, slow and reverent. There was a pulse of something warm in my chest that hadn't been there in a long time—hope, maybe. Or peace. Or both. "Caught you staring again," Walker's voice teased behind me. I looked up in the mirror just as his arms slipped around my waist, his hands settling low, right over the curve. His chin rested on my shoulder, and he met my eyes in the glass. "Can you blame me?" I asked softly. He smiled. "Not at all. You're beautiful." I leaned back into him, letting the weight of his chest ground me. He kissed my shoulder, then my neck, and I could feel the smile still tugging at his lips. It had been like this lately—soft touches, shared glances, late-night talks curled together in bed. Slowly, brick by b