LOGINJEROME’S POVThe silence in the mansion was absolute, but it wasn’t the silence of peace. It was the held breath of a predator waiting in the tall grass.I stood in the center of the grand foyer, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt. I had changed out of my tactical gear into a suit—charcoal grey, immaculately tailored, but I had left the tie off and the top button undone. I needed to look like a man who was holding it together by a thread, a CEO battered by scandal and sleepless nights.My gun was tucked into the waistband at the small of my back, the cold steel pressing against my spine. It was a comforting weight, a reminder that no matter how civilized this conversation pretended to be, the option for violence was always within reach.“He’s at the gate,” Adrian’s voice crackled through the microscopic earpiece I wore. “Three SUVs. Blacked out. Six security personnel plus Vane.”“Let them in,” I murmured, barely moving my lips. “Disarm the perimeter sensors. Roll out the red carpet
AVA MAXWELL’S POVThe first thing I registered was the weight.It was a heavy, comforting pressure draped over my waist; a thick, muscular arm that anchored me to the mattress. Then came the heat, radiating from the solid wall of chest pressed against my back. And finally, the scent sandalwood, musk, and the faint, lingering metallic tang of the cool night air clinging to his skin.Jerome was back.I didn’t open my eyes immediately. I lay there in the quiet of the morning, letting the reality of his presence wash over me. For the last twenty-four hours, waking up had felt like a punishment, a return to a world where my marriage was crumbling and my husband was a stranger. But today… today the air felt different. The crushing heaviness of betrayal was gone, replaced by a tentative, fragile peace.He hadn’t cheated. The boy wasn’t his.I shifted slightly, and Jerome’s arm tightened instantly, a reflex even in his sleep. He pulled me closer, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his
JEROME’S POVThe Los Angeles night air was cool, but inside the cabin of the blacked-out SUV, the atmosphere was suffocatingly hot, charged with the static electricity of my own rage.I gripped the steering wheel with hands that I forced to remain steady. My knuckles were white, the leather creaking under the pressure. I wasn’t driving fast. I wasn’t weaving through traffic like a maniac. I was driving with the precise, terrifying calm of a man who knows exactly where he is going and exactly what he is going to do when he gets there.Beside me on the passenger seat, my phone sat face up. The screen was dark, but the PDF of the negative DNA test result was burned into my mind.0.00%.Innocent.I was innocent of the betrayal my wife had feared, but I was guilty of something else: complacency. I had allowed myself to get comfortable. I had allowed myself to believe that the wars of the past were over, that with Autumn and Damian dead, the threats to my family had been neutralized. I had
JEROME’S POVThe silence in the east wing was heavy, a physical weight that pressed against my chest and made every breath a conscious effort. Outside the uncurtained windows, the sky had shifted from the harsh brightness of the afternoon to the bruised purples and greys of twilight, marking the passage of time in a slow, agonizing crawl.I hadn’t moved from my spot on the floor. My back was pressed against the drywall, my legs extended in front of me, numb from the hard surface. But I couldn’t bring myself to shift, to seek comfort. Comfort felt like a luxury I didn’t deserve, not while my entire world hung in the balance.Across from me, Ava was sleeping.She had collapsed against the opposite wall hours ago, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion of grief. She was curled into a tight ball, her knees pulled to her chest, her cheek resting on her arm. Even in sleep, her face was etched with pain, her brow furrowed, her lips parted slightly as she took shallow, uneven breaths.
Ava gasped. “Vane? The man from the meeting? The one who sent the flowers?”“Yes,” I said, my voice hardening. “He hired her. He paid for the lawyer. He probably paid a surgeon to alter that boy’s eyes or found a lookalike. It was a corporate hit, Ava. He wanted to destroy my credibility. He wanted to crash the stock. But most of all… he wanted to break us. He wanted to separate you from me so he could pick off the company piece by piece.”The realization hit her like a physical blow. The color returned to her cheeks, flushed with anger and relief.“He did this?” she whispered, her voice rising. “He made me think… he made me doubt you?”“He tried,” I corrected.Ava let out a sob.She launched herself at me.I caught her, wrapping my arms around her waist as she buried her face in the crook of my neck. She clung to me, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her body shaking with the force of her weeping.“I’m sorry,” she cried into my shirt. “I’m so sorry, Jerome. I should have trusted
Jerome's POVI signaled Dr. Marcus.He stepped forward with the swabs and the needles."I want blood," I said. "Saliva is too easy to fake. Blood."Elena gasped. "He's just a baby! You can't stick him with a needle!""It's a prick," I said coldly. "He'll survive."I watched like a hawk. I watched Marcus clean the boy's arm. I watched the needle go in. I watched the boy cry—a sharp, high-pitched wail that twisted something uncomfortable in my gut. I hated hearing it. It triggered an instinct I didn't want to have.Stop it, I told myself. He's a plant. He's a prop.But he looked so much like me.Marcus drew two vials. He labeled them in front of me. He handed one to me."I'm taking this to the lab myself," I announced."Standard procedure requires—" Blackwood started."I am the procedure," I cut him off.I turned to Elena. She was comforting the boy, whispering in his ear. She looked up at me, and for a second, the mask slipped.There was no love in her eyes. No hurt. There was only gre







