CHAPTER 14: The Vote

  POV: Avalon Pierce

The penthouse was quiet when they returned.

Too quiet.

Selene moved through the space while Avalon dealt with something on his phone—damage control emails, probably, or messages from board members performing post-vote diplomacy. The mechanics of survival.

She found herself in the kitchen, staring at the espresso machine without really seeing it.

They’d won.

Marcus had called a vote to remove Avalon, and he’d lost. Badly. Six to one. A complete repudiation of everything Marcus had built toward.

So why did it feel like the storm was still coming?

“You’re thinking too loud.”

She turned. Avalon stood in the doorway, jacket gone, tie loosened, looking more human than he had in hours.

“Just processing,” she said.

“Yeah. Me too.” He moved to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, offered her one. She shook her head. “Margaret wants a full debrief tomorrow. Robert’s already drafting a press release about Marcus’s ‘strategic departure from the board.’”

“Is he actually leaving?”

“He doesn’t have a choice. Patricia made it clear—stay and face a formal investigation into the shell company purchases, or resign quietly and we don’t pursue it.”

“And he chose resignation.”

“Of course he did. Marcus always chooses the path with the least public damage.” Avalon drank half the water in one go. “He’ll regroup. Find another angle. Men like him don’t give up because they lost one vote.”

Selene leaned against the counter. “So what do we do?”

“We?”

The word hung between them, question and statement.

“We,” Selene confirmed. “You said it yourself. We’re in this together.”

Something shifted in Avalon’s expression. Not quite softness, but close.

“Then we stay vigilant,” he said. “And we keep building whatever this is.”

“This marriage.”

“This partnership.” He corrected, then paused. “The marriage is legal. The partnership however, is something we’re choosing. There’s a difference.”

There was.

Selene had felt it in the boardroom, standing beside him while Marcus tried to tear them apart. Had felt it in the car ride home, the comfortable silence that came from shared exhaustion rather than avoidance.

They were choosing each other.

Not because of the contract. Not because of the will.

Because somewhere in the wreckage of the past ten years, they’d found something worth fighting for.

“I should let you sleep,” Avalon said, setting down the empty bottle. “It’s almost two.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved.

“Selene—”

“Avalon—”

They spoke at the same time, stopped, almost smiled.

“You first,” he said.

She took a breath. “I just wanted to say thank you, for not letting Marcus use me as ammunition against you. You could have thrown me under the bus. Blamed the marriage on desperation or manipulation or—”

“I would never do that.”

“I know. But you could have. It would have been easier.”

“Nothing about this is easy.” Avalon stepped closer. Not too close, but close enough that she could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight he was carrying. “But I meant what I said in there. We got married for the wrong reasons. But we’re still here. Still choosing to try. That has to count for something.”

“It counts for everything.”

The words came out softer than she intended.

Avalon held her gaze for a long moment.

Then he stepped back, creating distance.

“Goodnight, Selene.”

“Goodnight.”

He left.

Selene stayed in the kitchen, listening to his footsteps fade toward his wing of the penthouse.

Separate rooms. Separate spaces.

The boundary he’d set after therapy.

She understood it. Respected it even.

But standing here alone in the vast kitchen, she couldn’t help feeling like they’d just won a battle while losing ground in a different war entirely.

Her phone buzzed.

Maya.

Treatment update: scans came back. Tumors shrinking faster than expected. Dr. Chen is optimistic.

Relief flooded through her so completely she had to sit down.

Maya was responding to treatment.

Her sister—her brave, brilliant, pain-in-the-ass sister—was going to be okay.

She typed back with shaking hands: That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.

Proud of us, you mean. None of this happens without your billionaire husband’s connections.

Selene smiled despite herself.

He’s not so bad.

Oh my god. You like him.

It’s complicated.

Everything with you is complicated. Just kiss him already.

Selene’s face heated. It’s not like that.

Sure it’s not. Get some sleep, Lena. Love you.

Love you too.

She set down the phone.

Maya thought she liked Avalon.

And the terrifying part?

She wasn’t wrong.

Across the penthouse, Avalon stood at his bedroom window, staring out at the city.

Sleep felt impossible.

His mind kept replaying the vote. Six to one. Marcus’s face when he realized he’d lost. Patricia Wong’s measured support. Margaret’s strategic brilliance.

And Selene.

Standing up in that boardroom, defending their marriage to a room full of skeptics.

I married Avalon because Nene asked me to.

Simple. True. Devastating.

His phone lit up with a message.

Margaret: Well done tonight. Get some rest. We have work to do tomorrow.

Then another one.

Catherine: I’m proud of you.

He stared at that one for a long moment.

His mother. Proud of him for surviving a vote she’d helped create the conditions for.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

He didn’t respond.

Instead, he pulled up his calendar. Tomorrow—today, technically—was packed. Meetings, calls, the press release about Marcus, damage control with investors who’d heard about the emergency session.

And somewhere in there, therapy with Dr. Morrison.

Individual session this time.

Just him and whatever grief he hadn’t processed yet.

He should be dreading it.

Instead, he felt… ready.

Ready to stop running from the past.

Ready to face what he’d lost.

Ready to figure out what he was building toward.

A soft sound from the hallway made him turn.

Selene stood in his doorway.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said quietly.

“Me either.”

“Can I—” She hesitated. “Can I come in?”

Every boundary they’d set said no.

Avalon stepped back anyway.

She entered slowly, stopping near the windows. They stood side by side, looking out at the city neither of them had been born to but both had claimed anyway.

“I keep thinking about the vote,” she said. “About what Marcus said. That we’re playing the wrong game.”

“We’re not playing at all.”

“Aren’t we?” She turned to face him. “This marriage started as a transaction. Protection for you, money for Maya. But somewhere along the way, it became real. Or real-ish. And I don’t know the rules for that.”

“There are no rules.”

“There have to be. Otherwise, we’re just stumbling around in the dark hoping we don’t break each other again.”

Avalon exhaled slowly. “What do you want, Selene?”

The question was heavier than it sounded.

She was quiet for so long he thought she might not answer.

Then—

“I want to stop feeling like I’m waiting for you to hate me,” she said softly. “I want to stop flinching every time you look at me, waiting for the moment you decide I’m not worth the trouble. I want—”

She stopped.

“What?” he pressed gently.

“I want us to be okay. Whatever that looks like.”

Avalon turned to face her fully.

“We’re not okay yet,” he said honestly. “I’m still angry. Still hurt. Still processing everything you told me.”

“I know.”

“But I want to get there. To okay. And then maybe to something better.” He paused. “I just need time.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know.”

Selene nodded, accepting that.

They stood in silence, the city breathing below them.

“I should go,” she said finally.

“Yeah.”

But neither of them moved.

“Avalon?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For giving me time too. For not demanding I be completely healed before you’re willing to try.”

Something in his chest loosened.

“We’re both a little broken,” he said. “Might as well be broken together.”

Selene smiled—small, tentative, but real.

Then she left.

Avalon listened to her footsteps fade, then returned to the window.

The city glittered like shattered glass.

Beautiful. Sharp. Dangerous if you weren’t careful.

But he was learning to be careful.

Learning to build something from the ruins.

It would take time.

But maybe—just maybe—they had enough.