Mag-log inJENNAThe garden behind the Vale estate is full of white peonies, which is exactly what I asked for and nothing like what I imagined five years ago, back when I thought weddings were things that happened to other people in other, simpler lives.Faith adjusts my veil for the fourth time, hands fluttering with nerves that are technically supposed to be mine."You're glowing," she says. "Actually glowing. It's obnoxious.""I'm six months pregnant. I think that's just physics.""It's not just physics." She meets my eyes in the mirror, and for a second neither of us says anything, five years of friendship compressed into a single look. "You did it, Jenna. Every hard, impossible piece of it. You did it."Through the window, I can see the rows of chairs filling, the string quartet tuning quietly near the arch, Zion in his small gray suit already losing a battle with his tie while Hayes crouches down to fix it for him, laughing at something Zion said.Lila stands near the front, in blue inste
JENNAI've been tired for two weeks and blaming the wedding planning, which is easier than blaming the thing I haven't let myself consider yet.Faith notices before I do, the way she always does."You've turned down champagne three times this month," she says, watching me over the rim of her own glass at the engagement dinner. "You. Who once described a Tuesday as a good enough reason for champagne.""I've been busy.""Jenna.""Faith.""When was your last period?"I open my mouth to deflect and realize, with a small lurch, that I genuinely can't remember.Three days later, I'm sitting on the edge of the bathtub with a small plastic stick balanced on the sink, watching the timer count down on my phone, heart hammering in a way that feels almost exactly like it did five years ago and nothing like it at all.Jaxon knocks softly. "Everything okay in there?""Come in."He opens the door slowly, reading my face before he reads anything else."Jenna. What's wrong?""Nothing's wrong," I say.
JAXONI book the restaurant six months ago, on a day I didn't tell Jenna anything about, because some part of me has known since a genetic test confirmed what my heart already understood.It's the same restaurant. La Rouge. The one I told her to meet me at that night, the night everything fell apart, except she never made it here at all—because I'd already fired her hours earlier, in my office, in front of another woman, before this table ever had the chance to matter.I've had the whole place cleared out for tonight, every table but one.She stops in the doorway when she sees it—empty room, single table, candlelight, the ghost of a dinner that never happened five years ago finally getting the chance to exist."Jaxon, what is this?""An apology," I say. "And a beginning. I wanted them in the same room, for once, instead of pretending only one of them happened."She crosses the room slowly, eyes wet before I've said anything else."You never made it here that night," I say. "Five years
JENNAJim Carrington meets me for coffee on a Tuesday, the way we have a dozen times since Kingswell & Hart started working with his firm, except this time I know before I sit down that it's the last one."You've got that look," he says, sliding my usual order across the table before I can order it myself. "The one that means you're about to be kind to me in a way I'm not going to enjoy.""Jim—""It's Vale, isn't it." Not a question. "The whole city's been talking about the museum thing, the paternity thing, all of it. I figured it was only a matter of time before it circled back to me too.""I should have said something sooner.""You didn't owe me an update schedule, Jenna. We had coffee a few times. I liked our conversations. I was hoping there might be more, eventually, if the timing ever lined up." He shrugs, easy, a little sad around the eyes despite the shrug. "The timing clearly already lined up somewhere else.""I care about you," I say. "As a friend. As someone whose opinion
JENNALila stands in the driveway of our house for a long time before she rings the bell.I watch her through the window—coat too warm for the weather, hands folded in front of her like she's rehearsing an apology she's not sure she's earned the right to give.When I open the door, she doesn't ask to come in."I'm not here for Zion," she says quickly. "I know I haven't earned that. I'm here because I owe you an apology, and I'd rather give it badly than not give it at all.""Come in, Lila."She hesitates, then steps past me into the front hall, looking around at the house like it's the first time she's really seeing it—the crayon drawings taped to the fridge, the small sneakers by the door, the ordinary chaos of a life she spent years trying to prevent from existing."I owe you more than words," she says. "I know that.""You could start with the words," I say. "See where that gets us."We sit in the kitchen. She doesn't touch the tea I make her."I've spent thirty-five years building
JAXONThe school parking lot is chaos by the time we get there—two security cars, a teacher standing in the doorway with her arms out like she can physically hold the building shut, and Vivienne standing beside her car with Zion's hand in hers.My hands are shaking on the wheel the entire drive over. Jenna hasn't stopped saying his name under her breath since we left the office, like repetition alone could keep him safe.He isn't crying. He looks confused more than scared, backpack still on, one shoe untied."Daddy!"He pulls free and runs to me, and I go down on one knee and catch him so hard he laughs despite everything, and I hold him there a second longer than I need to just to feel him breathing."Hey, buddy. You okay?""Ms. Vivienne said we were going on an adventure."I look up at her over his shoulder.Vivienne hasn't moved. Her mascara is smudged, her hands empty now, the leather folder with Zion's case file sitting on the hood of her car like she set it down and forgot what
LILAThe envelope arrives on a Thursday morning by private courier.No name on the outside. No return address. Just a small red mark in the bottom left corner that tells me who sent it, because the man I hired does not put his name on anything and I would not want him to. I sign for it myself — I d
JENNAJaxon’s mother looks nothing like him.She’s colder.Sharper.Her eyes sliced through me the moment I opened the door to his penthouse, expecting Jaxon… and finding her instead.“Ms. Hart,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “We need to talk.”My stomach drops. “Jaxo
JENNAThe next few weeks pass in a blur of tension so thick I can barely breathe.Every day, I sit outside his office, typing reports, answering calls, pretending I don’t feel his eyes on me every time he walks past. Pretending I don’t replay that almost‑moment in his office every night before I fa
JENNAFor a moment, the world stops.The city hums behind the glass walls of his office, a glittering skyline stretching endlessly beyond him, but all I can see is him.Jaxon is the CEO of Vale Industries.The man who walked me home last night.The man who almost kissed me.The man who made my hear







