MasukAs Emma glided away to join a group of socialites at another table, Jake marvelled at his mother's strategic mind. She'd always been the perfect corporate wife on the surface, but beneath that polished exterior was a keen intelligence that had clearly shaped more of his father's success than he'd ever acknowledged.
"I like your mother," Amity said, watching Emma charm the group of passengers.
"She has that rare quality of being genuinely kind while still being strategically brilliant," Jake agreed. "I think she and my father make a better team than either of them realises."
They found a quiet corner where they could observe the meeting without being noticed. Through the glass, Jake watched his father's body language, still formal, but less rigid than usual. Richard Jenkins-Whitmore appeared equally composed, his silver
Jake walked Amity to her dressing room, conscious of the curious glances they attracted. The Resonance Foundation announcement had made them the most talked-about couple in attendance, overshadowing even the performances to come."I'll be right there in the front row," Jake promised, kissing her softly before she disappeared into her dressing room. "Playing our song in my head with every note."Alone in the corridor, Jake was turning toward the main auditorium when a familiar voice stopped him."Mr Monroe. A word, if you don't mind."Marcus stood a few feet away, impeccably dressed in concert attire, his expression unreadable."Mr Blackwood," Jake acknowledged neutrally. "I believe we said everything necessary yesterday.""Not quite." Marcus stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "You should know that what Amity and I shared wasn’t just some casual relationship. We built something together over the years, artistic collaboration, sh
Jake remained silent, understanding this was a conversation Amity needed to have without his intervention. He stood by her side, supportive, but didn't speak."Is that what you think?" Marcus asked, genuine hurt flashing across his features. "That I was controlling you?""You tried," Amity acknowledged. "And for a while, I let you. That's on me as much as you."Marcus's gaze shifted to Jake, his expression hardening. "And he doesn't try to control you? The billionaire shipping heir who's suddenly interested in arts philanthropy?""The foundation was my idea," Amity said firmly. "Jake supports me without trying to direct me. That's the difference.""I supported you, too," Marcus insisted. "I helped build your career.""You helped yourself to my career," Amity corrected, her voice taking on an edge. "You positioned yourself as my mentor, my guide, my producer, and took credit at every opportunity."Marcus stepped closer, lowering his vo
Marcus laughed, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Direct. I appreciate that." He turned back to Amity, his expression softening into something practised and nostalgic. "Your new piece sounds intriguing. 'Resonance' is quite the evocative title.""You've been reading the program notes," Amity observed, keeping her voice neutral."I always follow your work," Marcus said, stepping slightly closer. "We may have had our... differences, but I've never stopped admiring your artistry."Jake watched as Amity maintained her composure, neither retreating nor engaging. The power dynamic was clear: Marcus was attempting to reassert some form of intimacy, and Amity was firmly establishing boundaries."Thank you," she said simply. "If you'll excuse us, I need to prepare for my rehearsal.""Of course," Marcus nodded, stepping aside with exaggerated courtesy. "Perhaps we could catch up later? For old times' sake? I'd love to hear more about this foundation of yours
After ending the call, Jake and Amity sat in comfortable silence, watching the London evening darken beyond their windows. The challenges ahead, Marcus, the press, and the enormous scope of their foundation felt manageable now that they had both family support and a clear strategy."Are you nervous?" Jake asked eventually."About Paris? Not about what we're building together?" Amity replied, her expression softening as she looked at Jake. "Terrified, but in the best possible way.""I feel the same," Jake admitted. "Like we're standing on the edge of something enormous."Amity leaned her head against his shoulder. "I used to be afraid of heights.""And now?""Now I'm ready to fly."The following weeks passed in a whirlwind of preparation. Their London townhouse gradually transformed from an empty shell into a true home, each carefully selected piece of furniture telling part of their story. Jake converted the top-floor studio into a pa
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "I want you there. But I also don't want to give Marcus the satisfaction of thinking he can still affect our relationship.""Then we go together, and we don't hide," Jake decided. "We attend as partners, as equals. Let him see exactly what he lost and what you've gained."Amity smiled at the quiet confidence in his voice. "You know, a year ago, I would have handled this alone. Hidden in my dressing room, avoided any confrontation.""And now?""Now I have someone who stands with me instead of trying to control me," she said, moving to wrap her arms around his waist. "It makes all the difference."Jake pulle
"That's non-negotiable," she said firmly. "The Resonance Foundation is too important to delay. There are kids out there who need access to music and art now, not when we feel ready."Jake nodded, admiring her clarity of purpose. "Then that's our priority. Everything else can wait.""Even the press?" Amity asked, thinking of the business journalists clamouring for interviews with the newly revealed founder of A.J. Enterprises."Especially the press," Jake confirmed. "They'll write their stories with or without our cooperation. Let's focus on the work first, the publicity later."Relief washed over Amity's features. "How do you always know exactly what to say?""I don't," Jake admitted with a smile. "I'm just figuring this out as we go, same as you."As the rain drummed against the windows, they stood together in their empty house, planning their future one decision at a time. They would furnish the rooms slowly, finding pieces that spoke to t







