LOGINCINNAMON.The whole flight, my knee wouldn't stop bouncing.'Did he miss me? Was he okay?' The questions looped repeatedly, and I placed my forehead against the cold oval window, watching clouds dissolve into nothing beneath me. I told myself the tightness in my chest was just the altitude. I told myself a lot of things.Even if he didn't want me, he should allow me to see Dove. That was the whole reason I came. Not to make up with him. At least not for now.Nothing, not one prayer, not one gut feeling, not one nightmare, prepared me for what was on the other side of that door.Risa was naked, standing next to Dante.I stood in the doorway and the world just... stopped.My bag slipped from my shoulder. I didn't pick it up.I could hear the air conditioner humming somewhere in the suite, absurdly normal against the sight in front of me.For one horrible second, my brain tried to rearrange what I was seeing into something harmless. It didn't workI don't know how long I stood there, eye
DANTE.The phone wouldn't stop ringing. I had silenced it twice already. Reaching for it in the dark without opening my eyes, my hand found it on the nightstand, and I pressed down with my thumb. Silence. But thirty seconds later, the vibrations started again against the wood.I put my pillow over my face.It rang once more. This time, the sound cut through differently: the specific tone I had assigned to Tate that bypassed everything, even Do Not Disturb, because Tate only called at unreasonable hours when something was truly urgent.I answered with my eyes still closed."What.""Are you serious right now?"His voice was tense, showing that he was just moments away from losing control."Tate—""First, Cinnamon calls me asking where Dove is, as if she doesn't know the update of things, and now you're unreachable while nobody is where they should be—"I sat up."Slow down. What happened to Dove—""Your mother is admitted, Dante." His voice cracked slightly as he mentioned her name. "Bl
CINNAMON:I wore black to the cemetery. I didn’t plan to wear black. My hand just reached for it and I didn’t stop it. I had pulled the dress from the back of the wardrobe and slipped it on. I haven’t worn black since my mother died.The flowers were white lilies for my mother and sunflowers for my father because he always said that lilies at a grave felt too mournful, and he had spent enough of his life feeling that way.As I drove through Meadowbrook, I took in every corner. This was my first time out since returning. Yes, I was part of the project that contributed to the success of this place and had received updates through the town's group. But seeing it for myself after almost a year truly warmed my heart. So much has changed, and my mother would be proud. There was development, improved housing, and new companies had established themselves here, obviously creating jobs. Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks as I sobbed, wiping them away with the back of my hand. "I did it," I w
CINNAMON.Dante took a deep breath and then relaxed. I seized the opportunity to keep talking."She was ashamed. She didn’t want you to see her falling apart. She wanted to deal with it quietly and asked for my help, which I provided."He glanced at the signed—unsigned—document in my hands."Sign it."I studied him for a long moment before reaching for the pen in his breast pocket, clicking it open, pressing the paper against the wall, and signing my name on the bottom line. My hand remained steady.I returned it to him and placed the pen back in his hand."My intention has never been to take anything from you." My throat felt tight. "Not your money, not your business, not your son. Oliver has two parents who love him, and nothing would ever make me want to change that." I met his gaze. "I don’t know who’s painting this picture of me, but it's false. None of it is true."He remained silent."I have been mentally drowning for months while keeping Dove's secret—watching her fade away wi
CINNAMON.The bags had been ready since my return. Two suitcases and Oliver's little dinosaur backpack, filled with his favorite things, all sat in the guest room upstairs, where Dante wouldn't pass by and notice them.I had packed everything and stood in the doorway too long, fingers curled into the frame, wishing it could delay what was coming. Risa's words replayed in my mind throughout it all: "Leave him, Cinnamon, if he can't see reason. You're young, you have a son, and you don't deserve this."Maybe she was right. I had been so focused on keeping everything together that I hadn’t taken a moment to consider if I was harming myself in the process.I paced the living room, checking my phone repeatedly. Dove wasn’t answering. I had called four times since I made the payment and left two messages, but nothing came back. Dante had called several times, but always at inconvenient moments—either when I was handling the payment or when I was picking Oliver up from school. By the time I
DANTE.“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll be in touch.”I ended the call and leaned back, contemplating calling her again but decided against it for now. She would tell me when she was ready; she would eventually answer, and when she did, I'd listen to her explanation—that’s just who she was and what our marriage meant.My phone buzzed again before I could gather my thoughts.Another notification.A pending authorization request.I tightened my grip on the device as I opened it, half-expecting to see another outrageous number staring back at me.It hadn’t cleared yet.This meant that whatever she was doing—She wasn’t done.I was still mulling over it all when there came a knock at my office door—three soft taps.“Come in,” I said as I reached for my phone one more time.The door opened.I looked up.Risa.I set the phone down.She appeared dressed for business—blazer fitted, heels softly tapping against the carpet—but there was something about her demeanor that felt less than professional.“
DANTE:My lungs burned.Four suitcases. Thirty pounds each, minimum. Up porch steps slick with ice, through a doorway barely wide enough to fit them all at once. My shoulders screamed in protest, muscles I didn't regularly use making their displeasure known with every movement.I needed to talk to
DANTE:Max Ashford-Moretti.Even his name was a joke. A hyphenated monument to his shamelessness. The man had seduced my mother during the worst period of her life, swept in with charm and empty promises while she was grieving, vulnerable and believing people were inherently good.He married her fo
DANTE:Who the hell was this?I stared at the woman standing in my doorway, and for a split second, my brain refused to connect her to the coffee-throwing menace from two days ago.Then her eyes defiantly met mine and reality snapped into place.She'd transformed from the hasty, disheveled woman wh
CINNAMON:Excitement didn't let me finish my coffee and waffles at Maple & Main, the breakfast spot that had been feeding Meadowbrook residents since before I was born.I was jumpy. Jittery. Barely sat still long enough to take three bites before someone walked through the door, spotted me, and pul







