ANMELDENMia Stone doesn't follow me into the elevator.I know because I watch the door close and my own reflection watch me back, and then the floors tick upward and the lobby disappears. I let out a slow breath.She's a top-tier client at Smith & Co. Of course she's here. George's building is her building in every practical sense — her team occupies three floors, her face is in half the campaigns on the lobby wall. There's nothing strange about her arrival.Except for the look.I file it away. I'm good at filing things.
"My thesis gets approved in one pass," I say. "And Aunt Jean stays healthy and happy for a long, long time."The thought of her lands with its usual weight of guilt. She wasn't at the party tonight. My father didn't invite her — didn't think to, or chose not to, and I didn't push, and now it's past midnight on my birthday and I haven't seen the woman who raised me in weeks.I set that aside for later. I'm getting better at setting things aside for later.Liam is quiet for a moment.Then: "Your wishes.""What about them?""They didn't include me."I look at him. The dashboard light catches the particular injured quality he's giving the windshield."You told me not to say them out loud," I say. "Something about wishes not coming true if spoken.""I asked first.""And then immediately told me asking was pointless. You set the terms." I take another spoonful of cake. "You can't retroactively object."He m
He leads me out of the break room like nothing happened.Which, in the way that matters publicly, nothing did. We were in a break room. His sister cut her hand. We had a conversation. The party is still going.The ballroom hits me like a physical thing when we push back through the corridor — warmth, perfume, the hum of two hundred conversations running simultaneously. The chandelier hasn't dimmed. The champagne towers are still upright. Vivian is laughing at something across the room.The world continued without us.Liam stops.
Elizabeth pulls her hand back the moment I reach for it.Not dramatically. Not unkindly. Just — a withdrawal, clean and final, like a door closing without slamming."I'm fine," she says.I straighten up. My hand, extended toward the gauze wrap, has nowhere to go, so I lower it.There's something different in Elizabeth's face. She has been, in every interaction I've had with her, one of the most effortlessly warm people in the Hart family — the kind of warmth that's genuine rather than performed, that pulls you in without trying. She tied Liam's ties and cooked h
I stare at him.My brain is running the sentence back — what if I feel guilty — and trying to land on the interpretation that makes it metaphor. Literary reference. Academic observation. Anything other than what his face tells me it is.His face tells me it isn't metaphor.Adam looks at me. Really looks at me — the way he almost never does, the way he controls so carefully that the moments he lets himself slip through feel like watching something rare happen in real time.Then he says it plainly, the way he says everything that costs him the most:
Lisa watches Elizabeth Hart walk away.The practiced warmth on her face holds — it always holds — but underneath, very quietly, something arranges itself into satisfaction.Twenty years of research. Twenty years of patience.Claire Tan.Just a name. That's all it took.She lifts her champagne glass and takes a slow sip and scans the room for her next move.
A photo had taken the internet by storm.It was snapped by a passerby at the hospital and promptly uploaded, spreading like wildfire.The picture depicted Julian Ford cradling Allie Brooks with an unmistakable look of worry etched across his face.The article accompanying it speculated wildly, dubb
After leaving the hospital, Allie couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret for agreeing so quickly.There were so many factors she hadn’t considered—especially with Julian Ford being such a high-profile figure. The paparazzi were always lurking, waiting to snap something that would feed into the w
“Allie, what’s going on with you?” Scarlett leaned in, gently patting Allie’s flushed face.Allie’s skin was burning, and Scarlett quickly realized something was seriously wrong.“Allie, you’ve got a fever—a bad one,” Scarlett murmured, her voice tinged with worry.Earlier that day, an offhand comm
Julian Ford shut the car door with a casual grin. "What’s wrong with me this time, Allie?"Allison "Allie" Brooks folded her arms, trying to steady herself. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone once and for all, but she knew Julian well enough to know that wouldn’t work. He wasn’t the type to







