Jocelyn’s POV
The morning passes in donor calls and grant applications—the steady, unglamorous work that keeps three hundred families fed and housed.
By noon, I'm starving and almost feeling normal, so I grab a sandwich from the deli on Fifth and eat it on a bench outside, letting fifteen minutes of autumn sun do what therapy can't.
Aiden's standing in my office when I return from lunch.
Not in the hallway. Not at reception where he should've been stopped. Inside my actual office, examining the photos on my desk like he has every right to be here.
"How did you get past security?" The words come out sharp, adrenaline spiking.
He looks up, all easy charm. "Patricia was on a call. I told the intern I was family. Technically true."
"Get out."
"In a minute." He sets down the frame he's holding—the photo of Mia from her last birthday, covered in frosting and laughing. "First, I wanted to give you these."
He slides a folder across my desk. Updated partnership documents, according to the label.
"We already told you we're not interested," I say, not touching it.
"That was before things got complicated." He settles into my visitor chair like he's been invited. "Before Vivienne's campaign gained traction. Before major donors started questioning the foundation's leadership."
My stomach drops. "What are you talking about?"
"Check your email." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "The Carmichael Foundation sent something interesting about an hour ago."
I pull up my inbox with shaking hands. There it is—subject line: "Concerns Regarding Recent Media Coverage."
Dear Ms. Wolfe,
The Carmichael Foundation has been a proud supporter of your Medical Family Support Initiative. However, recent media attention surrounding Mr. Wolfe's personal history has raised concerns among our board members.
While we appreciate the foundation's mission, we cannot risk association with potential reputational damage. We must respectfully pause our funding commitment pending resolution of these matters.
We hope you understand our position and look forward to potentially resuming our partnership once clarity has been established.
The email blurs. The Carmichael Foundation pledged two million over three years. That's the Queens expansion. That's fifteen staff positions. That's hundreds of families who won't get help.
"How did you know about this?" I ask, voice deadly quiet.
"I have friends on their board." Aiden leans back, completely relaxed. "They reached out for my perspective on the Wolfe family dynamics. I was honest—told them about the complicated history, the ongoing tensions, the uncertainty about Zayden's true character."
"You sabotaged us."
"I provided context." He picks up the folder, extends it again. "Which is why you need to consider my proposal seriously now. I can help insulate the foundation from Zayden's personal scandals."
"By doing what exactly?"
"Restructuring leadership. Creating separation between Zayden's reputation and the foundation's mission." His eyes gleam. "I'd serve as interim director of operations. Public face of the organization while the media circus plays out. Once things settle, we can revisit the arrangement."
The audacity steals my breath. "You want to take over the foundation."
"I want to protect it. There's a difference." He stands, moves closer. "Jocelyn, you're a smart woman. You've built something remarkable here. But Zayden's past is catching up to him. Vivienne's just the beginning—there are other women, other stories waiting to surface."
"That's a lie."
"Is it? Or is it something Zayden hasn't told you yet?" He tilts his head, studying me. "You didn't know about me until recently. What else might he be keeping quiet about?"
"Get out of my office."
"I'm trying to help you." His voice softens, becomes almost gentle. "You're pregnant. You're building a family. You shouldn't have to watch everything you've created burn down because Zayden can't escape his own history."
The mention of the pregnancy makes my skin crawl. Reminder that he knows, that he's been tracking me, that nothing feels private anymore.
"The foundation isn't going to burn down," I say, forcing steel into my voice.
"Not if you accept help." He taps the folder. "My proposal gives you options, protection. A way to salvage the mission even if Zayden becomes too toxic to lead."
"Zayden and I lead together. That's not changing."
"Things change faster than you think." Aiden heads for the door, then pauses. "Zayden's very good at controlling his image. Very practiced at making people believe he's reformed, evolved, different from who he used to be. But eventually, the mask slips. Everyone's does."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a warning." He meets my eyes. "When things escalate, and they will, Zayden may not be able to protect you, or this baby, or Mia. But I can. Family takes care of family, remember?"
He leaves before I can respond, and I'm left standing in my office, shaking with rage and fear.
The folder sits on my desk like a bomb waiting to detonate.
I don't open it. Instead, I forward the Carmichael email to Zayden and Maya with the subject line: "We have a problem."
My phone rings immediately. Zayden.
"I just saw it," he says without greeting. "Carmichael's pulling funding."
"Aiden knew before I did. He was in my office when I got back from lunch, waiting to tell me." I pace the small space. "He bypassed security, walked right past Patricia, sat in my chair like he owns the place."
Zayden swears viciously. "I'm calling David right now. He should've been stopped at the lobby."
"He said he told the intern he was family."
"He's not family. He's a threat." I hear him moving, probably heading somewhere private. "What did he want?"
"To offer his 'help.' He has an updated partnership proposal that's really a hostile takeover. Wants to be interim director of operations. Says he can protect the foundation from your 'personal scandals.'"
Silence. Then: "He's positioning himself to replace me."
"And making it sound reasonable. Like he's rescuing the foundation from your toxic reputation." I sink into my chair. "Zay, what if more donors pull out? What if Vivienne's campaign actually works?"
"Then we fight harder." His voice is grim. "I'm coming back to the office. Don't engage with Aiden if he contacts you again, don't read his proposal, just… wait for me."
After we hang up, I stare at the folder.
Don't read it, Zayden said. But the temptation pulls at me. What if Aiden actually has valid points buried in the manipulation? What if there's a way to protect the foundation that I'm missing because I'm too loyal to see clearly?
My hand moves toward the folder.
A knock on the door stops me.
Maya enters, tablet in hand, face pale. "We need to talk about social media."
"What now?"
She turns the tablet toward me. Vivienne's latest post—a carousel of images. Her in therapy. Her looking contemplative. Her with other women who've "survived toxic relationships."
The caption reads: ‘To everyone asking if I'm talking about Zayden Wolfe: I won't confirm or deny. What matters is supporting ALL survivors, regardless of their abuser's current PR campaign. Real change requires more than foundation work and documentaries. It requires accountability.’
The comments are brutal:
She's definitely talking about Wolfe
His new wife probably knows and doesn't care
Money can't buy a clean conscience
Anyone else notice the foundation timing? Classic PR move
"It's trending," Maya says quietly. "Number three on Twitter. The foundation's being mentioned in every thread."
My phone buzzes with another email. This one from the Morrison Trust: Requesting emergency meeting to discuss funding continuation.
Then another. Silverstein Foundation: Board concerns regarding leadership integrity.
They're circling. All of them. Waiting to see if we'll collapse under the pressure.
"What do we do?" Maya asks.
I look at Aiden's folder. At the emails piling up. At Vivienne's post gaining momentum. At the foundation we built from Harrison's blood money and impossible hope.
"We fight," I say, standing. "Call an emergency staff meeting for four o'clock. All hands. We're getting ahead of this before it buries us."
"What are we going to say?"
"The truth." I grab my phone, start typing a message to Landon and Rachel. "That we're not perfect, but we're real. That the foundation's mission matters more than celebrity drama. That we're not going anywhere."
Maya nods, heads for the door, then pauses. "Jocelyn? For what it's worth—I believe you. I believe Zayden. Whatever Vivienne's selling, I'm not buying it."
"Thank you." The words come out thick with emotion.
After she leaves, I sit back down, hand instinctively going to my stomach.
Five weeks pregnant. Building a family. Fighting for a foundation that helps people who were exactly where I used to be.
And Aiden thinks I'll just hand it over to protect myself from escalation.
He doesn't know me at all.
I open my laptop, start drafting the statement we'll release. Not defensive. Not apologetic. Just honest.
The truth has to be enough. It has to be.