LOGINRosalie Russo was nineteen when one forbidden night with Aiden King, a Navy SEAL and her brother's best friend, ended in heartbreak. After dismissing her as a mistake and coldly pushing her away, Aiden shattered everything she thought they had. Two weeks later, Rosalie discovered she was pregnant and learned that Aiden had been engaged all along. Devastated, she vanished without a trace. Seven years later, Aiden found her struggling as a single mother. He never married his fiancée, and he had spent years searching for Rosalie. Now that he knew Lucy was his daughter, he was determined to bring his family back together. But Rosalie refused to surrender to the man who destroyed her. As a bitter custody battle unfolded and old desires reignited, they were forced to confront the truth: Aiden pushed her away to protect her from his demons, and Rosalie ran instead of fighting for them. Could two broken souls build something beautiful from the ruins of their past?
View MoreRosalie's POV The number came up as Unknown on a Thursday evening. I almost let it go to voicemail. Over the years, I'd gotten into the habit of not answering unknown calls. Partly out of caution, the kind that comes from spending seven years making yourself difficult to find. Partly because unknown numbers were usually either wrong numbers or sales calls, and I didn't have the energy for either. I answered on the fourth ring because something made me. I couldn't have said what. It was an instinct that had nothing to do with logic. "Rosie." As I heard that voice, my world tilted. I sat down, not by choice. My legs made that decision for me, and suddenly I was in a kitchen chair with the phone pressed to my ear, every nerve in my body humming with something I couldn't name. It was my brother's voice. Seven years… It had been seven years since I'd heard it in real time. I’d only spoken to my dad once, briefly, maybe eighteen months after I'd left. A call from a payphone
Aiden's POV I'd been staying at the Grandview for six weeks. Four thousand dollars a night for six weeks was insignificant from a practical standpoint, but symbolic in every other way. I didn't need to live in a presidential suite. I'd grown up in a two-room apartment with water-stained ceilings and a father who spent the rent money before the first of the month. I had money now because I'd earned it. Through hard work and the particular determination of someone who remembered exactly what it felt like not to have enough. But I'd never confused comfort with meaning. The apartment on Addison Street was a twenty-minute drive from Rosie's building. It had three bedrooms, a decent kitchen, and a building with a functioning elevator. That had mattered to me The elevator in Rosie's building had been broken since before I arrived, and she climbed four flights of stairs every day carrying everything she needed while raising a six-year-old child. I didn't tell her about th
Aiden's POV Marcus called on a Tuesday morning while I was signing a lease. I let it ring. He called again while I was carrying the first box from a delivery up to the third floor of the building on Addison Street. I ignored that one too. By the time the movers had finally brought up the rest of it, a bed frame, a decent couch, a kitchen table that would do the job, I had four missed calls and a text message that read: [I know you're still in that city. You've been there for six weeks. We have a defense contract review meeting in eleven days, and two clients are asking where you are. Call me back or I'm getting on a plane.] I called him. Marcus Chase had been my business partner for four years. We'd met during a period when I was transitioning my investments into more structured ventures. He possessed the practicality I lacked, and I had the military connections he needed. The arrangement worked so well that neither of us had ever felt the need to formalize it beyond a ha
"Can I get the big set?" Lucy asked. She was holding a watercolor box with twenty-four colors. "You can get whatever you want," Aiden said. Lucy dropped the box into the small basket he was carrying for her and moved on to the next section. I was studying a display of round paintbrushes with no intention of buying any of them when I heard her ask the question. Her voice was clear and direct, the way she asked most things. "Captain Aiden," she said, "are you going to be my dad?" The store didn't actually go quiet. The background noise remained. Someone talking at the register. Music drifting from a small speaker near the entrance. The ordinary murmur of a business going about its day. But something in my immediate world froze. I didn't turn around. I stayed where I was in front of the paintbrush display, holding a size-six round brush without really seeing it, and waited. I heard Aiden make a small sound. Not an answer. A breath. Slow and deep. Then I hea
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