Mag-log inALEXANDER For a heartbeat, I was convinced the alcohol had finally hit me wrong.I blinked, waiting for the image to dissolve, waiting for the figure in the center of the room to morph into someone else—a stranger, a client’s wife, anyone other than her. But the image didn’t shift.Valerie Quinn stood there, inside my perimeter, under the strobe lights I had paid for, surrounded by people I had vetted. She was standing in the middle of The Obsidian like a jagged piece of glass in a velvet bag.I hadn’t sent the invitation. I hadn’t texted her the address. I hadn’t even whispered the word "birthday" in her presence. I had made a deliberate, calculated executive decision to keep my professional life and my personal chaos separate for twenty-four hours.So why the hell was she here?The shock didn't hit me all at once. It was a delayed impact, like a bullet that enters clean and only starts burning once it hits the bone. My body reacted before my brain could catch up to the breach in
ALEXANDERFinally, the clock went full circle again.Three hundred and sixty-five days. Around the sun. Around the clock. And here I was—plus one again.July 20th.I stared at the digital numbers on my bedside clock, watching the minute change. It was a simple shift of a digit, but it felt like a heavy door closing on the past and opening onto something new.There was a time when this day meant everything to me. It was a day full of noise, laughter, and wild anticipation. It was the one day a year that made me feel completely untouchable. Important. Seen. On my birthday, I used to feel like the president of the country—no, more than that. I felt like a king or even more than a king.In the past, my phone would blow up before my eyes even opened. Every call was answered with a laugh. Every glass was raised in a toast to my name. Every room I walked into seemed to bend slightly in my direction, acknowledging that, for twenty-four hours, the world revolved around Alexander Stone.Birthda
VALERIE It’s another day at the office, and work felt impossible today." I stared at the stack of case files on my desk, but the words didn't make sense. They were just black ink on white paper. I blinked, trying to clear the fog in my head, but the exhaustion was heavy. It sat on my shoulders like a physical weight. I looked at the small silver watch on my wrist. 10:45 AM. I let out a long, frustrated breath. It wasn’t even noon yet? It felt like I had been sitting in this chair for days. I rubbed my temples. I was usually good at this. I was Valerie Quinn, the lawyer who never missed a detail, never lost focus, and never let emotions get in the way. My colleagues feared me because I was cold and efficient. But today? Today I felt like a mess. I knew exactly why. I picked up my phone and unlocked it. The screen was empty. No messages. No calls. I set it back down, face up. Two days. Alexander Stone’s birthday was in two days. My own birthday wasn't for another three w
ALEXANDER I woke up with the familiar taste of ash in my mouth and a heaviness sitting squarely on my chest—a distinct, physical weight that had nothing to do with gravity and everything to do with the ghosts I kept in the corners of my mind. It wasn’t the grogginess of a lack of sleep; I had slept the sleep of the dead. This was something else. This was the suffocating pressure of thoughts I hadn’t invited, waiting for me the moment my guard dropped. Morning light hemorrhaged through the curtains, dull and slate-gray, washing the room in a cold, clinical pallor. For a long time, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the city outside and letting the silence inside the room settle like dust. Two days. My birthday was in two days. In any other year, that realization would have sparked a low-thrumming anticipation in my blood. I liked celebrating. I always had. In this life, where every day was a negotiation with mortality, birthdays weren't just dates on
VALERIE POV I was still standing in the courthouse hallway when my phone vibrated in my hand. For a moment, I didn’t notice it. My thoughts were still tangled in the echoes of the courtroom—the judge’s sharp tone, the woman’s quiet sobs, the way justice had been handed out cleanly and without apology. I was replaying Vera’s face in my head, the way it always appeared when I least expected it, when the vibration came again, more insistent this time. I looked down — an unknown sender. Of course, I knew exactly who it was. That alone should have made me cautious. It usually did. But something about today had already stripped me raw, left my emotions exposed. I unlocked the phone. There will be a party. Alexander’s birthday is in two days’ time. I stared at the screen. Once. Twice. Then I read it again, slower. Alexander’s birthday. In two days. My pulse jumped, sharp and sudden, like my body had reacted before my mind could catch up. The hallway around me faded—the polished
VALERIE I woke up to that cold, sinking reminder — court was today. I lay there for a while, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to steady my thoughts. It still felt wild to me. Unreal. I’d always believed some things could be handled at home. Not every disagreement needed a courtroom. Not every marriage problem needed a judge in a robe deciding who failed who. But life doesn’t always care what you believe. But I also know this. There are situations no kitchen-table conversation can fix. No apologies can erase neglect. No promises can undo years of irresponsibility. And no amount of patience should be demanded from a woman who has carried everything alone while the man who vowed to stand beside her chased every skirt that crossed his path. Today was the third hearing. The final one and I had vowed to myself that I would get her justice. I stood in front of the mirror that morning, adjusting the collar of my suit, studying my reflection with a calm that came from prep







