LOGINPOV: Selene Castellano
The prep session started at nine AM sharp.
Selene sat in Diana’s conference room, coffee growing cold in front of her, while the attorney ran through potential questions with the efficiency of someone who’d done this a thousand times.
“They’ll start with the background,” Diana said, flipping through her notes. “Easy stuff. Name, occupation, how you met Avalon. Then they’ll move to the timeline. When you reconnected, what was discussed, when you agreed to marry.”
“And that’s where it gets complicated,” Selene said.
“That’s where you tell the truth simply. You reconnected because of Nene’s will. You discussed the requirements. You agreed to marry for multiple reasons—the money for Maya’s treatment, honoring Nene’s wishes, and unresolved feelings for Avalon.”
“That sounds calculated when you say it like that.”
“It sounds honest. Which is better than calculated.” Diana fixed her with a steady gaze. “Selene, here’s what you need to understand. Sullivan is going to try to make you look like either a gold digger or a liar. Your job is to be neither. Your job is to be human.”
“How?”
“By not hiding your motivations. Yes, you needed money. Yes, the will created an opportunity. Yes, you had feelings for Avalon that never went away. All of those things can be true simultaneously. The key is owning all of it.”
Avalon, sitting beside Selene, spoke up. “What about the miscarriage? How detailed will they get?”
Diana’s expression softened slightly. “Detailed. I’m sorry, but they will. They’ll ask when Selene found out she was pregnant, what she did, who she told. They’ll ask about Catherine’s threats. They’ll ask why she didn’t tell you, Avalon, and whether she considered telling you later.”
Selene felt her throat tighten. “And I just—tell them everything?”
“Everything relevant. You don’t need to describe medical details unless they specifically ask. But yes, you tell them about the pregnancy test, about Catherine showing up, about the threats, about the miscarriage. And you tell them why you made the choices you made.”
“Even though those choices hurt Avalon?”
“Especially because those choices hurt Avalon. Because that’s the context Sullivan will try to use against you. He’ll paint you as someone who makes selfish decisions without considering consequences. You need to show that’s not true—that you made impossible choices in impossible circumstances and you’ve carried the weight of them ever since.”
They ran through questions for another hour. Diana playing Sullivan, Selene answering, Avalon listening and occasionally interjecting when something didn’t sound right.
“What’s your current relationship with Avalon Pierce?”
“We’re married. We’re building a life together. We’re in therapy working through our past.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
“When did you fall in love with him?”
“I fell in love with him in college. I never really fell out of it, even when I left. I just buried it.”
“Does he love you?”
This was the one that made Selene hesitate every time.
“He’s working on it. He’s been honest that he’s not there yet, but he’s trying. And I respect that honesty.”
Diana nodded approvingly. “Good. Don’t oversell it. Don’t claim something you can’t prove. Just be honest about where you both are.”
They broke for lunch—sandwiches delivered to the conference room, eaten mechanically while Diana reviewed the timeline one more time.
“The money is the hardest part,” she said, pulling up the bank records. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, transferred three days before your wedding. Sullivan is going to hammer this. He’ll imply—or outright state—that Avalon bought your agreement to marry.”
“He helped with Maya’s treatment,” Selene said. “That’s not buying me.”
“From Sullivan’s perspective, the effect is the same. You needed money, Avalon provided it, you married him. Cause and effect.”
“But it wasn’t that simple.”
“I know. So explain the complexity. Avalon offered to help with Maya’s healthcare before you’d agreed to marry him. You initially refused. He had to convince you to accept. Those details matter.”
Selene nodded, trying to memorize the sequence.
By three PM, her head was swimming with responses and counter-responses, with phrases that sounded good and phrases that would be used against her.
Diana finally closed her notes. “I think we’re ready. Selene, you’ve done this well. Just remember—tomorrow, no one in that room knows you except Sullivan, and he’s been paid to think the worst. Your job is to show them who you actually are. Not perfect. Not calculating. Just human.”
After Diana left to prepare for another case, Selene and Avalon sat alone in the conference room.
“You’re going to be great tomorrow,” Avalon said.
“How can you know that?”
“Because I’ve seen you be great in impossible situations. The board meeting. The press conference. Dinner with my mother. You show up even when you’re terrified. That’s what tomorrow requires.”
Selene leaned her head on his shoulder. “I keep thinking about what Margaret said. That I love you in a terrifying way. She’s right. This whole thing terrifies me.”
“What the whole thing?”
“This, us. The fact that I’m putting myself through a legal deposition to defend a marriage that started as a contract. The fact that I’m fighting this hard for something that might not work out.”
“Why are you fighting this hard?”
She lifted her head, looked at him. “Because it’s already working out, maybe not perfectly. Maybe not the way either of us planned. But we’re here. Together. Trying. That’s worth fighting for.”
Avalon cupped her face gently. “Tomorrow, when Sullivan asks if this marriage is real, I want you to think about this moment. Right now. Us sitting in a conference room after six hours of deposition prep, exhausted and scared, and still choosing to be here. That’s real. That’s what you tell them.”
“What if it’s not enough?”
“Then we try harder. But Selene—” his thumb traced her cheekbone, “—I think it will be enough. I think we will be enough.”
She wanted to believe him.
Tomorrow would test that belief.
That night, Selene couldn’t sleep.
She lay in bed running through potential questions, her answers, the ways Sullivan might twist her words. Beside her, Avalon’s breathing was steady but not quite relaxed. He was awake too.
“Tell me something good,” she said into the darkness. “Something that has nothing to do with tomorrow.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Maya texted me earlier. Said her latest scans look even better. Dr. Chen thinks she might be completely clear within a month.”
Warmth flooded through Selene. “She told you that? Not me?”
“She said she wanted me to know that the money I spent is working. That she’s grateful.”
“You saved her life.”
“We saved her life. You kept her alive for ten years before I showed up. I just helped with the final push.”
Selene rolled toward him, close enough to see his face in the dim light from the window.
“Thank you. For that. For everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Yes, I do. Because you didn’t have to help. You could have just met the will’s requirements and kept your distance. But you didn’t. You showed up. For Maya, for me, for us. That matters.”
Avalon pulled her closer, and she settled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“Tomorrow’s going to be hard,” he said quietly. “Sullivan’s going to push every button he can find. But you’re stronger than you think. And you’re not alone.”
“Promise you’ll be there? After?”
“Promise. Diana’s office. I’ll be watching the feed, and the second it’s over, I’ll be there.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
They lay together in the dark, gathering strength for what came next.
Tomorrow, Selene would sit across from Sullivan and defend her choices, her marriage, her love.
Tonight, she’d hold tight to the man those choices had brought back into her life.
And pray it was enough.
POV: Avalon PierceSelene called her father one final time that autumn, not out of obligation, but because something in her had settled enough to want closure rather than distance.He answered on the second ring, his voice older, steadier than she remembered.“I got married again,” she said. “Properly this time.”“I’m glad,” he said, and she could hear that he meant it.“I’m not calling to reconcile,” she said. “I want to be clear about that.”“I understand,” he said.“I wanted you to know I’m happy,” she said. “Genuinely happy and that whatever happened between us, I’ve made peace with it. Not because you deserve peace but because I do.”There was a long pause on the line.“Thank you for telling me,” he said finally. “I hope you stay happy, Selene. I mean that.”“Goodbye,” she said, and meant it as final in the gentlest way she could manage.She hung up feeling nothing but lightness.That evening, the foundation’s fifth anniversary approaching, Avalon sat with Elena in the study, the
POV: Selene CastellanoAvalon asked her again on a Tuesday, the way he’d promised he would years before, except this time there was no crisis waiting in the wings, no Henderson Capital, no federal sentencing hanging over their heads.Just an ordinary evening, Elena and Robert asleep at Maya’s for the night, the two of them standing in the courtyard of the building they’d built together.“I want to marry you again,” he said. “Properly this time. Not because a will required it. Not because I finally got around to asking after everything settled. But, simply because I choose this, every single day, and I want to say it in front of everyone who helped us get here.”Selene looked at him.“You already asked me this,” she said. “The night Henderson’s resolution passed.”“I know,” he said. “I want to ask you where everyone can see it. Where Elena can watch her parents choose each other on purpose.”She felt her throat tighten.“Yes,” she said. “A thousand times, yes.”They married in the cour
POV: Avalon PierceFive years passed the way real years did, not in dramatic leaps but in the accumulation of ordinary days that eventually amounted to something enormous.Elena was eight now, sharp and certain and increasingly aware of the world she’d been born into. Robert was seven, quieter than his cousin but equally stubborn, the two of them inseparable in the way cousins raised in each other’s pockets often became.The foundation had expanded to three cities. The Riverside clinic had helped over four thousand families. Rosa Gutierrez had passed peacefully two years earlier, her building still standing, still in her family’s name.On a Sunday afternoon in October, Selene found Elena sitting on the floor of the foundation building, looking at the stone carving above the door from the inside, tracing the letters with her finger.“What does it mean,” Elena asked. “The question.”Selene sat down beside her.“It means we never stop asking what we’re actually trying to do,” she said. “
POV: Selene CastellanoThe building was finished in November, exactly on Kofi’s timeline, standing on Valencia Street with its wide windows and its courtyard already growing the peace lilies Maya had insisted on planting.Elena, now three and a half, stood at the entrance holding Avalon’s hand and staring up at the building.“Ours,” she said.“Ours,” Selene confirmed.Above the doorway, carved into simple stone, the same words that had opened everything two years before:What are we actually building toward?Beneath it, smaller: Lorraine Pierce, 1943-2024. She kept building.The opening ceremony drew three hundred people. Rosa Gutierrez, now with silver fully through her hair, cut the ribbon alongside Esperanza Reyes, who was eighty one now and needed a cane but refused any other assistance walking through the doors of the building her family’s story had helped create.Kevin Walsh’s program had grown to sixty young people. Evelyn stood at the front with tears she made no effort to hid
POV: Avalon PierceThe groundbreaking happened on a Saturday morning in March, exactly a year after Elena’s first birthday, and Avalon stood at the edge of the empty lot watching Selene explain the plans to a small crowd that had gathered without any formal invitation.Word had simply spread. Rosa Gutierrez told her neighbors. Kevin Walsh told the young people in his program. Esperanza Reyes, now eighty and moving more slowly but still sharp as ever, told everyone at her church.By the time the ceremonial shovels were handed out, nearly a hundred people stood on Valencia Street watching.“This isn't groundbreaking for us,” Selene said into the small microphone Amara had arranged. “It's groundbreaking for what this neighborhood already knew it deserved. We’re just finally building it.”The crowd applauded.Elena, nearly two years old now and increasingly opinionated about everything, stood between Avalon and Selene holding her own small plastic shovel that Maya had insisted on buying f
POV: Selene CastellanoThe foundation’s third year opened with a decision that had been building for months.Selene stood at the whiteboard on a Monday morning with Amara, James, and Nadia gathered around her, and she looked at the mark in the corner that was Nene’s handwriting and said what she’d been thinking since Elena’s birthday.“I want to build something permanent,” she said. “Not just programs. A building. A physical home for the foundation that isn’t a corner office we outgrew a year ago.”Amara looked at her carefully.“Where,” she said.“The Mission,” Selene said. “On Valencia Street. Near Rosa’s building. Near the clinic. Somewhere the community can walk to instead of us always being the ones who have to reach out.”James was already thinking through the practicalities. “That requires capital we haven’t budgeted for. And it requires an architect who understands what this place needs to be.”Selene smiled slightly.“I already have someone in mind,” she said.Kofi looked at
POV: Selene CastellanoIt started with the calendar.Avalon’s phone on the kitchen counter showing a notification for a board dinner she hadn’t known about and hadn’t been asked about and was apparently expected to attend in four days.She saw it while making coffee and didn't say anything immediat
POV: Maya CastellanoAccra arrived before she was ready for it.That was the thing about new cities. You could know intellectually that you were going somewhere and still be caught off guard by the weight of actually being there. The air was different immediately stepping off the plane. Warm and we
POV: Maya CastellanoMaya packed three times.The first bag was sensible. Neutral clothes, laptop, chargers organized into their little case the way a person did when they were trying to convince themselves they were fine. She stood back and looked at it and felt absolutely nothing which was probab
POV: Selene CastellanoNobody wanted to cook.That was the first thing. They’d been in a federal courthouse for most of the day and before that a hotel room and before that a night of not sleeping and standing at a stove making something deliberate felt impossible in the way only genuinely exhauste







