MasukBy six the next morning, Alexander's phone hadn't stopped buzzing since David's call. Knight Holdings' stock had dropped further than he'd ever watched it fall in a single overnight session.He stood in his office in yesterday's shirt. The city skyline outside the window was grey and unbothered. He scrolled through headlines that hadn't existed twelve hours earlier. Cole Holdings Faces Scrutiny Over Leaked Internal Documents. Major Shareholders Demand Answers After Data Breach. Someone had handed financial projections, supplier contracts, and two unsigned acquisition deals to at least three different outlets. All at once. Timed for maximum damage."Talk to me," he said, the moment David walked through the door. David looked like he hadn't slept either."It's bad. But it's not fatal. Yet." David dropped a folder on the desk. His hands weren't quite steady. "Whoever did this had real access. Not outsider hacking. Insider knowledge. Files that don't exist anywhere outside our internal se
Sophia couldn't feel her own hands.She sat rigid at the long table, Marcus on one side, Alexander on the other, and stared at Judge Whitfield's face. She tried to read the verdict before it came. Five years of surviving alone had taught her to brace for the worst. She braced now. Every muscle in her body felt coiled tight enough to snap.The courtroom was too quiet. Somewhere behind her, a chair creaked. Somewhere else, a phone buzzed once and went silent. None of it mattered. Only the judge's face mattered."I've made my decision regarding custody of Ethan Marquez knight," Judge Whitfield said. She let the silence stretch a beat longer, like she understood exactly what that pause cost the two people in front of her.Sophia's hand found Alexander's under the table. He gripped back instantly. No hesitation. His thumb pressed once against her knuckles, steady, the way it had been steady through every page of evidence, every hour of this endless day."This court finds insufficient evide
The call had gone to voicemail. Alexander listened to it once, alone, before mentioning it to Sophia—Adrian's voice, clipped for once, stripped of its unbothered charm. I assume you've made your decision. I hope you understand what you're choosing against. No threat was spelled out, no promise kept. Just a door closing on the other side. Somehow, that quiet was worse than a shout. He deleted it twice in his mind before actually doing it; holding onto Adrian's voice felt like letting the man back in.Alexander told Sophia only the part that mattered. "He knows," he said. "Whatever he tries next won't be subtle.""Let him try," Sophia said, her voice entirely steady. She stood close enough that he could feel her warmth, and something in him settled—the particular security of having someone stand at his side instead of behind him.---Judge Eleanor Whitfield's courtroom was smaller than Alexander expected, all blond wood and fluorescent light, entirely unlike the heavy marble spaces he u
Sophia didn't answer Adrian right away. She sat with the phone pressed to her ear, his offer hanging in the living room like smoke. Alexander’s hand tightened around hers—silent, steady, braced for whatever she might say next."I need to think," she told Adrian, and hung up before he could fill the silence.The apartment felt abruptly hollow. Alexander watched her lower the phone onto the coffee table. She was moving with extreme caution, as if one wrong gesture might undo the fragile composure keeping her upright."You're not actually considering it," he said. He hated how much it sounded like a question when he wanted it to be a certainty."I'm considering everything, Alexander. That's what being responsible for a child means." Sophia pressed her palms against her eyes, exhaustion bleeding into her posture. "He's offering an end to this. No hearing, no investigators, no Halloway, no more sleepless nights wondering if a judge will decide I'm unfit. You don't know what it's like to ca
Alexander didn't go to her that night. He sat with the document until the print blurred, reading the date a dozen times, trying to make it mean something other than what it plainly said. It was an old hospital intake form—his name typed into a field that should never have needed it. It was evidence of a long-forgotten paperwork tangle from years before, back when his name and Sophia's had still been linked in insurance systems neither of them had bothered to update after parting ways.It wasn't a secret. It wasn't a lie. It was just a clerical ghost, the bureaucratic residue of a life they used to share, surfacing at the worst possible moment to make an already raw wound feel more sinister than it was.Somewhere around three in the morning, he realized the document wasn't what mattered. It was a key he didn't need; he already had the door. He sat in the dark for a long time after that, turning the thought over, surprised by how steady it felt. For once, the answer to a hard question a
Alexander didn't sleep. He sat at his kitchen table until two in the morning with Adrian's message glowing on his phone, reading it until the words stopped making sense. Ask her what the doctors told her. Ask her what she's never told you. By the time the sun came up, he had imagined a dozen worst-case scenarios, none of which he had any right to believe, yet all of which he couldn't stop turning over.Around four, he caught himself rehearsing what he would say to her, the way he used to practice for hostile takeovers. He hated that the comparison even occurred to him. Before any of this, he had never rehearsed a conversation with Sophia; he had just talked to her. Lying there in the dark, he missed that version of them with an ache that resembled grief—grief for an ease he hadn't known to value until it was gone.He showed up at her door at eight, earlier than he had ever come uninvited. She opened it already half-braced, as if she had felt the question coming before he even asked it







