All Chapters of The Fine Print of Falling: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

I woke to the sound of my phone vibrating against the coffee table.For a confused moment, I thought I was in the penthouse. Then I registered the unfamiliar ceiling, the blanket Maya must have draped over me sometime during the night, and the pale morning light filtering through windows that weren’t mine.Everything came rushing back.The envelope. The plan. Xander’s handwriting detailing exactly how he would break me.My phone buzzed again. I reached for it, my body stiff from sleeping on Maya’s couch.Twenty-three missed calls. Seventeen from Xander. Four from Vivienne. Two from numbers I didn’t recognize.I silenced it and dropped it back on the table.Maya emerged from her bedroom, already dressed, her hair pulled back in a messy bun.“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”“Like I want to go back to sleep and wake up in a different life.”She sat on the edge of the couch. “I made coffee. And I can make breakfast if you’re hungry.”“I’m not.”“You should eat something.”“I can’t.”M

The rain started that day. I didn’t know Xander was there at first. Maya discovered him when she went out for groceries that afternoon. She came back soaking wet, her expression somewhere between fury and pity. “He’s outside.” I looked up from the couch where I’d been sitting for hours, staring at nothing. “Who?” “Xander. He’s standing across the street. Just standing there in the rain.” My heart lurched. “What?” “He’s not trying to come up. Not calling your name or making a scene. He’s just standing there. Watching the building.” I moved to the window before I could stop myself. There he was. Alexander Lockwood, billionaire, standing on the sidewalk across from Maya’s building like a ghost. He wore a dark coat, no umbrella, rain soaking through his hair and streaming down his face. His hands were shoved in his pockets. His eyes were fixed on the windows of Maya’s loft. Even from this distance, I could see he looked wrecked. Unshaven. Hollow-eyed. Nothing like th

I stayed at Veridian until late, losing myself in the familiar rhythms of prep work and planning. The dinner service was smooth, the kitchen running like clockwork, and for a few hours I could almost pretend my life wasn’t falling apart. Almost. Every time I passed the bar, I saw the television. Muted now, but still showing coverage of Xander’s press conference. Analysis. Commentary. Speculation about whether we’d reconcile. By the time I left, it was past eleven. The paparazzi had thinned out, just two photographers lingering across the street. They took their photos as I climbed into the car, but didn’t shout questions. Small mercies. Back at Maya’s apartment, I found her asleep on the couch, her laptop open beside her. I closed it gently and draped a blanket over her before heading to the guest room. My phone showed three missed calls from Vivienne and a voicemail from Priya asking if I wanted to coordinate a response to the press conference. I silenced my phone. Tomorrow.

I woke to the smell of food. Not hospital food. Real food. My eyes opened slowly. The afternoon sunlight was streaming through the hospital window, softer now than the harsh morning light. And Xander was sitting in the chair beside my bed, a takeout container in his hands. “You’re awake.” He set the container down immediately. “How are you feeling?” “Better. Less foggy.” I shifted in the bed, trying to sit up. “Here, let me help.” He stood and adjusted the bed controls, raising the back until I was in a comfortable sitting position. His movements were gentle, careful, like I might shatter if he wasn’t cautious. “What time is it?” “Almost two. You’ve been asleep for about four hours.” He picked up the container again. “Are you hungry?” My stomach growled in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He opened the container, revealing what looked like soup from a French bistro. “Butternut squash. The doctor said you need to start with something light.” “You talked to the doctor?” “

On the eighth day, the doorbell rang.I was in the living room, reading a book Xander had brought me the day before. He was in his office, taking a video call he’d tried to postpone until I insisted he handle at least some business.“I’ll get it,” I called out.His head appeared in the doorway immediately. “You don’t have to. I can—”“Xander, I can answer the door. I’m not an invalid.”He looked like he wanted to argue but nodded. “Okay. But if you need anything—”“I’ll let you know.”I opened the door to find Vivienne standing in the hallway, holding a gift basket wrapped in cellophane.She looked uncertain, almost nervous. An expression I’d never seen on her face before.“Diana. Hi. I hope I’m not intruding.”“Vivienne. No, you’re not. Come in.”She stepped inside, glancing around like she hadn’t been here a thousand times before. “How are you feeling?”“Better. Much better.”“Good. That’s good.” She held out the basket. “I brought you some things. Tea. Honey. That organic granola y