MasukEthan Blackwood arrived unannounced on a Tuesday, the way I was starting to understand most Blackwood men arrived at anything, like the world owed them the element of surprise.“There she is.” He strode into my studio without knocking, dropping into the chair across from my drafting table like he’d been invited, which he most certainly had not. “The infamous wife nobody in this family can stop talking about.”“You must be Ethan.” I set down my pencil, amused despite the intrusion, something easy and familiar already threading through his voice that reminded me faintly of Lucas. “Damian didn’t mention you were visiting.”“Damian doesn’t know I’m visiting.” Ethan grinned, unbothered, glancing around the studio with open curiosity. “I prefer to surprise people. Keeps everyone honest.”“Or keeps everyone locking their doors.”“That too.” He laughed, easy and warm, and something in me relaxed slightly at the lack of pretense in him, a welcome change from the careful calculation that seemed
Samuel Reed didn’t talk much, which I’d learned in the two weeks since Damian assigned him to me, but the silence never felt empty. It felt watchful, the kind of quiet that came from a man who noticed everything and wasted nothing on commentary.“You don’t have to walk three steps behind me everywhere,” I said, glancing back at him as we crossed the lobby of Grace’s building. “I promise I won’t get kidnapped between the elevator and the front desk.”“Wouldn’t take my chances on that,” Samuel said, his voice low and even, eyes still scanning the street through the glass doors even as he answered me. “People get careless in familiar places. That’s usually when something happens.”“That’s a cheerful outlook.”“Keeps you alive.” The corner of his mouth twitched, the closest thing to humor I’d seen from him yet. “Mr. Blackwood asked me to keep you breathing. I take my job seriously.”I smiled despite myself, some of the tension in my shoulders easing at his dry, unbothered protection. In t
Charlotte Reeves looked like she hadn’t slept in days when Damian called her into his office the next morning, and something about that exhaustion made my stomach twist with a guilt I hadn’t earned yet.I sat in the corner chair, close enough to watch but far enough to feel like an observer, while Damian stood behind his desk with Noah beside him, a manila folder squared neatly in front of them like evidence in a trial. Charlotte’s eyes flicked toward the folder the moment she walked in, and whatever color remained in her face drained out entirely.“Sit down, Charlotte,” Damian said, quiet, controlled, the voice of a man holding his temper on a very short leash.She sat. Her hands folded in her lap, knuckles white, and I watched her throat move as she swallowed whatever she’d planned to say first.“We know about the leak,” Damian said. “Noah’s traced the login timestamps to your account. We know about the university connection to Vanessa Sterling. What we don’t know yet is why.”Charl
The car ride home was silent in a way that pressed against my ribs like a held breath.Damian sat across from me in the back of the town car, jaw tight, staring out the window at the city sliding past in streaks of gold and red. I watched his reflection in the glass, watched the careful mask settle back over whatever I’d glimpsed in the library two nights before, and something in my chest ached at the loss of it.“You still haven’t answered me,” I said finally.“I know.”“Damian.”He turned from the window, and in the dim light of the car his eyes looked tired in a way that had nothing to do with the hour. “I had someone looking into Adrian Collins the week we signed the marriage contract. Standard due diligence, or that’s what I told myself at the time. What I found didn’t sit right with me, so I kept digging.”“Digging into my ex-husband’s business dealings, or digging into me?”“Both,” he admitted, no hesitation, and something about the honesty of it disarmed me more than a denial
Two hundred people turned to look at me at once, and for one long, suspended second, I forgot how to breathe.Adrian stood in the doorway, folder raised like a weapon, security guards losing the battle to hold him back. The ballroom had gone silent in that particular way that happens right before something breaks, glasses paused mid-air, conversations dying, two hundred pairs of eyes swinging between Adrian and me like the room itself was choosing sides.“Adrian.” My voice came out steadier than I felt, though my hands had gone cold at my sides. “What are you doing.”“Telling the truth.” He shrugged off a guard, stepping further into the room, something wild in his eyes I didn’t recognize, desperation dressed up as righteousness. “Since you clearly weren’t going to.”“Security,” Damian said, low and lethal, but Richard’s hand landed on his son’s arm.“Let him speak,” Richard said quietly. “A scene stopped mid-scene only invites speculation. Let him finish digging his own grave.”Adria
The gown fit like it had been sewn onto my skin instead of my body, and for the first time in three years, I looked in a mirror and recognized the woman staring back.Sharp lines. A back that dared people to look and dared them to say something about it. Deep green fabric that caught the light like something alive, moving with me instead of against me the way Adrian’s chosen outfits always had, engineered to make me smaller, quieter, easier to overlook. This dress did the opposite. This dress made me impossible to ignore, and for once in three years, I didn’t want to be ignored.“You look,” Damian said from the doorway, and stopped.He stood there in a black tux that fit him the way his suits always did, like tailoring was simply another form of control he’d mastered years ago, but his eyes had gone somewhere else entirely, somewhere I hadn’t seen them go before. Not the careful neutrality from Oliver’s office. Not the guarded grief from the library. Something rawer than both.“You lo







