CHAPTER 14

ANNA POV

“How long were you planning to hide out down here?” I ask, pushing the heavy wooden door of the boathouse open.

Three full days of dead silence. Three days of Peter hiding behind back-to-back corporate meetings, late-night office hours, and closed bedroom doors. He’s been systematically avoiding me ever since he punched Jack at the hotel bar.

He sits on an overturned wooden crate near the edge of the dock, staring down at a faded photograph in his hand. The dim moonlight reflects off the dark water beside him, cutting harsh shadows across his sharp jawline.

“I’m not hiding,” Peter says, his voice flat, dead, and entirely drained of emotion.

“You haven’t looked at me in seventy-two hours, Peter,” I say, stepping across the dusty wooden floorboards until I’m standing right in front of him. “What is that?”

He doesn’t answer with words. He simply holds up the photo Victor Kane gave him at the gala.

I take the glossy photo, tilting it toward the pale moonlight. I trace the red timestamp stamped into the corner: November 14th. My blood runs cold as I calculate the months against his official birth records.

“I might be Kane’s son,” Peter says softly, staring straight ahead at the black water. “If I am... I’m not Richard’s child. I’m not your stepbrother. I’m nothing to you. Just a stranger who moved into your house five years ago.”

My heart hits my ribs with a sudden, painful thud. Hearing him call himself a stranger feels like a physical blow directly to my chest.

Without thinking, I reach down and gently touch his face, resting my palm against his cold cheek.

Peter flinches hard under my touch, his whole body tensing up, but he doesn't pull away.

“You’re not nothing,” I whisper, my voice catching in my throat as I stare down into his dark grey eyes. “You’re...”

The words completely fail me. I try to say my partner, or my ally, or my family, but none of them are true anymore. The emotional shield I’ve kept up for years cracks wide open, leaving me completely speechless in the quiet boathouse.

Peter reaches up, wrapping his long fingers around my wrist. He doesn't push my hand away. Instead, he pulls me down until I’m kneeling on the wooden dock right between his knees.

He leans forward, resting his forehead directly against mine.

“If I’m not a Voss, I don’t have to hate you,” Peter whispers, his warm breath fanning across my lips. “We wouldn’t be...”

“Family,” I breathe out, my pulse hammering wildly in my throat as our faces hover a fraction of an inch apart.

“We wouldn’t be family,” Peter agrees quietly.

The quiet relief in his voice is terrifying. It strips away every layer of corporate coldness he uses to protect himself, exposing something dangerous, raw, and desperate hanging right between us.

Then, just as quickly as the wall dropped, it slams right back into place.

Peter pulls his head back, his grip on my wrist loosening as his eyes harden again.

“But I might be,” Peter says, his tone instantly shifting back to a rigid, guarded pitch. “Richard might still be my father. The records could be altered. And if he is...”

He stands up abruptly, breaking our physical contact and stepping toward the open doorway.

“Then what we did in the car... what happened in the closet...” Peter says, his jaw tight. “It’s still...”

“Wrong,” I finish for him, standing up on the shaky wooden dock and smoothing my skirt down. “Yes. It’s wrong.”

“We stick to the plan,” Peter says, turning his side to me as he stares out at the dark lake. “Whether I’m a Voss or a Kane doesn’t change what Richard and Mary did to your mother. We destroy them both regardless.”

“Agreed,” I say softly.

PETER POV

“You’re up early,” Anna says, stepping into the kitchen the next morning.

I don’t look up from the coffee machine, but I push a freshly poured mug of dark roast across the marble counter right into her space. I didn't wait for her to ask.

“We have a four o’clock equity review with the audit team,” I say, keeping my voice clipped and strictly professional.

“Thanks,” she whispers, taking the mug. Her fingers brush mine over the ceramic.

I don't pull my hand back immediately this time. I stay half a second longer than necessary, staring down at her face, looking at her like a complex equation I can't quite solve. The dynamic between us has shifted into something softer, something far more hazardous than open war.

Later that night, after the house goes completely dark, I wait until I hear her bedroom door close and her breathing settle into sleep.

I drive across town to Jack’s private law office, using the master override code I extracted from his firm's server yesterday. I clear out his executive safe in under four minutes, taking the original hard-copy retainers and signed non-disclosure agreements Richard used to buy his loyalty.

I drive back in silence, walking up the grand staircase of the mansion without making a sound.

ANNA POV

I wake up at seven in the morning to the bright sunlight streaming through my bedroom window.

When I sit up, I feel a heavy paper folder resting against my blanket right beside my knees.

I pull the manila folder open with shaking hands. Inside are the original, signed corporate retainers Jack mentioned at the hotel bar—bearing Richard’s personal signature, detailing the exact financial payments made to Jack to target me and ruin my mother’s firm.

Peter got them himself while I was sleeping.

Paperclipped to the very top of the legal contracts is a small white note written in Peter’s sharp, precise handwriting:

You were right. The performance worked. —P

I press the thick legal folder against my chest, closing my eyes as my heart hammers violently against my ribs. I'm in serious trouble.