Mag-log inVictoria answered before the first ring finished. "Damien," she said. "I've been waiting for your call." "You've seen it," I said. "I saw it forty minutes ago," she said. "I've been watching my phone since." A pause. "How is Noah." "Here," I said. "Handling it better than most people would." "Of course he is," she said. The warmth in her voice was real. Victoria Mercer did not perform warmth. "Tell me what you need." "Hale is trying to win in the press," I said. "He knows the criminal case is solid so he's attacking credibility. Mine and Noah's. He wants public opinion to do what his lawyers can't." "Yes," she said. "I read the filing. It's not legally sophisticated but it doesn't need to be. It just needs to make noise." A pause. "What do you want to do about it." "I want to control the narrative," I said. "Not react to his. I want our version of events in print before his version becomes the only one people know." "Our version," she said carefully. "Meaning." "The timeline
I called Eli first. He answered on the second ring, which meant he had already seen something. Eli always answered slowly when everything was fine. "Noah," he said. "I know," I said. "Before you say anything. I know." "It's everywhere," he said. "My phone has been going since an hour ago. People from school texting me asking if my brother is sleeping with a billionaire." I closed my eyes. "Eli—" "I don't care about that part," he said immediately. "I don't care what people think. I care that you're okay." I sat down on the edge of the conference room chair Marcus had left empty. "I'm okay," I said. "Are you," he said. "Yes," I said. "Noah." The voice. The one that meant he had been thinking about something for longer than this phone call. "Is it true." I said nothing for a moment. "Which part," I said carefully. "The part where you're in love with him," Eli said. Simply,cutting straight to it without blinking. The conference room was very quiet. "Eli," I said. "I'm n
I stood in the conference room with both hands flat on the table and felt something in me go very still and very cold. "Read me the source," I said. "Damien," Marcus said carefully. "Maybe we should—" "Read me the source," I said again. Marcus read it. A nurse from the hospital's third floor. Named in the article, willing to go on record, paid by someone whose name was not yet confirmed but did not need to be. "Hale," I said. "We don't have proof yet," Marcus said. "I don't need proof," I said. "I know exactly who pays a nurse to confirm a patient's visitor log to a tabloid." I turned toward the window I couldn't see. Three years. Three years of careful control, of systems built to keep this exact kind of exposure from happening, and Richard Hale had found the one thing I had never protected because I had never imagined needing to protect it. Noah. "Where is Hale right now," I said. "Damien," Marcus said. "I don't think—" "Where is he," I said. A pause. "His office. Midt
The first time someone accused me of being in love with Damien Cole, I should have laughed. Instead, my stomach dropped.The car ride back from Central Park was quiet. Not awkward, not uncomfortable, just full. The kind of silence that existed when too much had been said and neither of us had figured out what to do with it yet. I kept thinking about the bench. About his voice when he said I mattered enough for him to bring me somewhere real. Most people wouldn’t understand why that hit so hard. Most people didn’t know Damien Cole.Beside me, he sat calm, one hand resting loosely against the seat between us. Close enough that I could have reached it. I didn’t. I still felt it anyway.By the time we pulled into Cole Industries, I’d almost convinced myself to stop thinking about it. Then the elevator doors opened, and the atmosphere shifted immediately. Conversations stopped. People looked away too quickly. I frowned because something was wrong, and beside me Damien noticed at the same t
I gave the driver an address I had not said out loud in three years. Noah sat beside me in the car, quiet, the quietness of someone who had just dismantled a deposition in eleven minutes and was still coming down from the thrill of it. "Where are we going," he said. "Somewhere I used to go," I said. "Used to," he said. "Before," I said. He understood. He didn't push. The car stopped after twelve minutes. I knew the route without needing to be told, every turn memorised long before the accident took it away from me visually and long after it had stayed mapped in my body regardless. Central Park. The entrance near Seventy-Ninth. I got out. Found the path with my cane, the one I had not used since the night I went to find him at the hospital, and felt Noah fall into step beside me without taking my arm, without hovering, just present. "There's a bench," I said. "Third one on the left after the fountain. Used to be my spot." "Used to be," he said. "I haven't been here in thre
The deposition room had no windows.I sat at one end of a long table with Marcus beside me and a court reporter typing quietly in the corner and Hale’s lawyer across from me, a woman named Patricia Glenn who had the energy of someone paid by the hour to be intimidating.Damien was not in the room. He had argued about it for two days and lost and was somewhere outside it, listening through whatever updates Marcus could give him, which was its own kind of unbearable.“Mr Carter,” Patricia Glenn said. “You were given level three database access four days before the breach occurred. Correct?”“Yes,” I said.“That’s an unusually fast escalation for someone in your position,” she said. “Personal assistant. No background in finance, law, or technology.”“I have a literature degree,” I said. “Mr Cole gave me access because I found an error his legal team missed. He valued the work, not my résumé.”“Convenient,” she said.“It’s documented,” I said. “The email chain exists. Marcus has copies.”
I knew he was nervous before he sat down. Most people were nervous around me. I’d stopped finding it interesting years ago. Nervousness made people stupid and stupid people wasted my time, and the one thing I did not have patience for was the wasting of my time. I heard it in the way he walked. S
Day nine started badly and got worse. Eli’s doctor had called again in the morning. Not with news, just a reminder. Two weeks was now one week and the number Dr. Reeves had given me hadn’t gotten any smaller and my first paycheck wasn’t coming until Friday and even then it wasn’t going to be enoug
I knew the sound of every person who had ever worked in this penthouse. Mrs. Hale walked like she was always running late, short quick steps, always slightly rushed even when there was no reason to rush. My previous assistant, Marcus, dragged his left foot slightly, a habit he was probably not ev
I packed everything I owned into one bag. That should have taken longer than forty minutes. It didn’t. Caleb sat on the edge of the bare mattress and watched me fold the pale blue shirt. “How long will you be gone?” he asked. “I’ll visit every Sunday,” I said. “That’s my day off.” “Every Sunda







