MasukCALEB's POV:One week after the hospital mess. One week after Rebecca. Everything still feels too close to the edge.I’m sitting across from Lena at her kitchen table. Coffee’s going cold between us. Evan’s playing in his room, laughing at something only he understands. My hands feel sweaty. I wipe them on my jeans before I speak.“I want to take you on a real date,” I say, straight and quiet. “Dinner. Saturday night. Just you and me. Eleanor can watch Evan.”She looks up fast, eyes guarded like she’s bracing for a hit. “A date?”“Yeah. One date.” I keep my voice steady even though my chest is tight. “If it’s terrible, we go right back to co-parenting, no hard feelings. But if it’s good…” I let it sit there. “We stop pretending this isn’t something more.”Lena’s fingers curl tighter around her mug. That wall of hers starts sliding up again, slow and careful. “Why now? We’ve been okay. Why risk messing it all up?”“Because okay isn’t enough anymore.” I lean in, heart banging. “I want y
Rebecca Moore sat on Caleb’s couch like she paid the rent.Caleb’s voice cut through the room, cold and sharp. “How the hell did you get in here?”She stood up slowly, brushing her dark hair back, flashing that perfect smile. “Your doorman knows me. I told him I was your girlfriend. Easy.”“You’re not my girlfriend. You’re nothing to me. Get out.”“Not yet.” Her eyes flicked to me, then behind me. “We need to talk. All three of us.”Evan peeked out from behind my legs, rubbing his eyes. “Mama, who is that lady?”I pulled him close, heart hammering. “Go to the guest room, baby. Lie down. I’ll come get you soon.”“But Mama—”“Now, Evan.”He dragged his feet, glancing back once, scared. The door clicked shut.I turned on her. “You’ve got thirty seconds before I call the cops.”Rebecca sat back down, crossing her legs like we were having coffee. “I didn’t break in. I was let in.”“By who?” Caleb stepped closer, fists tight at his sides. “It sure wasn’t me.”“Someone who doesn’t want you t
Evan’s hospital room felt suffocating. Monitors beeped. He slept pale under the white bandage, chest rising slow and steady. I hadn’t left my chair in hours. Caleb sat across from me, eyes locked on our son the same way.The doctor said moderate concussion. He’d go home tomorrow. But nothing erased the crack of his head on marble, the blood, the terrifying silence.“You should sleep,” Caleb said, voice low and rough. “I’ll watch him.”“I can’t.” My words scraped out. “You can’t either?”He shook his head. The silence between us felt thick, shared.“Thanks for today,” I whispered. “For rushing him here. For staying.”“He’s my son too, Lena.” His voice broke slightly. “I couldn’t have left.”Caleb stared at Evan, pain raw on his face. “One second he was running toward me, laughing. The next… he was gone. One second. That’s all it ever takes to lose everything.”I nodded, throat tight. “I keep seeing it too.”He looked up, eyes dark with regret. “I think about that other second every sin
The morning after those photos tore me apart, I stood outside Caleb’s apartment at seven, banging on the door until my knuckles hurt. I didn’t care who woke up.He opened it, looking half-asleep in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, hair sticking up. His eyes went wide with worry.“Lena? What’s wrong? Is Evan okay?”I pushed past him. “We need to talk. Right now.”He shut the door. “Okay. Tell me.”I shoved my phone at him, photos already open. “Explain this. Explain,her. Explain why this showed up the second I said yes to us.”He took the phone. His face went pale. “Where did you get these?”“Some ‘friend’ emailed them right after you left. Perfect timing, right?” My voice shook. “So talk. Who is she and why is she all over you?”“That’s Rebecca Moore, Patricia’s daughter. These photos are twisted. It’s not what it looks like.”“Not what it looks like? She’s got her hands on you and you’re smiling.”He handed the phone back and ran both hands through his hair. “She cornered me three days
Evan turns five today and he looks exactly like Caleb.Same dark hair that falls into his eyes. Same bright blue eyes. Same tiny frown when he’s trying hard at something. I stand in the living room watching Caleb blow up balloons, and my chest aches so much I can barely breathe. My little boy is a perfect miniature of the man I’m still terrified to love.“Streamers okay here?” Caleb asks, holding them up.“Yeah. By the window.”This is our first real party together. Not just swapping Evan. Actually planning, decorating, being a team. It feels warm and soft and so damn dangerous.Eleanor walks in with the cake and freezes. A slow, knowing smile spreads across her face. “Look at you two. All domestic like that.”“Don’t start,” I mumble, cheeks burning.“I’m just saying… You look good together. Like you belong.”Caleb glances at me. His eyes are soft and heavy at the same time. Something raw passes between us. I look away before it pulls me under.He’s been here every single day for two
My son is now four and a half years old and I'm losing half of him.Courthouse steps. Three weeks after the custody bomb. Caleb's waiting by the entrance in a suit, lawyer beside him.He sees me. Steps forward. "Lena, can we talk before we go in?""Talk? Now you want to talk? You should have talked three weeks ago."My lawyer touches my arm. "Ms. Hart, maybe—"I pull away. March straight to him. Get in his face."You filed for custody without telling me. After six months of family dinners. Six months of making me believe we were building something real. You went behind my back.""I know how it looks—""It's not about how it looks. It's about what you did. You blindsided me."His lawyer clears his throat. "We should take this inside.""No." I don't break eye contact. "You want fifty-fifty? You want to take Evan from me half the time?""I'm not taking him. I'm asking to share him equally.""You should have asked me first.""Would you have said yes?"Silence. "No.""Exactly. That's why I
We're in the boardroom, top floor, forty-fifth. Glass walls overlooking Manhattan. There's a long table, twelve leather chairs, twelve men in suits, and one woman. Patricia Moore. Everyone is staring at me.Caleb enters first. I follow. Feel every eye.David Walsh at the far end. Sixty years old, s
Clara is discharged from the hospital the next morning. Caleb and I bring her to Vaughn estate. Big house on the edge of town where he grew up.A hospice nurse is already there setting up the bedroom. Medical equipment, oxygen tank, hospital bed. Clara walks through the front door. Stops and looks
The morning light shines through the windows, the penthouse is quiet. Caleb's already up. I smell a coffee aroma from the kitchen. I walk out and find him at the counter. Two mugs ready. One regular, one decaf."Morning, slept well?" he says. Hands me decaf."Morning. Yes thank you"We sit at the
I'm in a black dress Eleanor brought for me yesterday. It fits tight over my belly. Can't hide pregnancy anymore. Four and a half months, showing clearly.About to walk into Marcus Vaughn's funeral. Five hundred people, the press, the cameras, everyone who saw the viral video."You ready?" Caleb as







