Jocelyn’s POV
Landon arrives at the foundation at seven PM, after most of the staff has gone home.
I watch him through my office window as he crosses the lobby, carrying a leather messenger bag. He moves with the particular confidence of someone who's spent years in courtrooms dismantling opposing arguments piece by piece.
Zayden called him an hour ago. Said we needed legal perspective on the Aiden situation that went beyond security protocols and badge revocations.
"Thank you for coming," I say when he enters my office.
"Of course."
He sets his bag on the conference table, already pulling out a yellow legal pad covered in neat handwriting.
"Zayden gave me the overview on the phone. His half-brother cornered you, made physical contact after you asked him not to, then made veiled comments about your pregnancy."
Hearing it summarized so clinically makes it sound almost manageable. Almost.
"That's accurate."
Landon sits, pen poised over the pad. "Walk me through it. Every detail you remember. Exact words if possible, approximate if not. His positioning, your positioning, who else might have seen or heard anything."
I recount the printer alcove encounter while he takes notes in shorthand I can't decipher. He doesn't interrupt, doesn't react, just documents with the focused precision of someone building a case.
When I finish, he's quiet for a moment, reviewing what he's written.
"This is escalation," he says finally. "Physical contact crosses a threshold he's been approaching for weeks."
"You think he's been planning this."
"I think Aiden doesn't do anything impulsively." Landon sets down his pen. "What Zayden probably hasn't told you is that Aiden's been trying to get close to people in Zayden's life for years. Not to build bridges—to collect ammunition."
The phrasing makes my stomach drop. "What do you mean?"
"Four years ago, Aiden showed up at Zayden's mother's assisted living facility. Brought flowers, said he wanted to make amends for family dysfunction. Visited her twice a week for three months."
Landon's expression is grim.
"Then he stopped coming. She was devastated—thought she'd finally bridged the gap between her stepson and her husband's biological son."
"Why did he stop?"
"Because he got what he wanted. He'd been recording their conversations. Edited them to make it sound like she was confirming that Zayden had always been cruel to Aiden, that Harrison favored Zayden unfairly."
Landon pulls out his phone, scrolls through files.
"He tried to use those recordings in a legal challenge to Harrison's will. Judge threw it out when the timestamps didn't match and the audio showed signs of manipulation."
I feel sick. "He used a woman with dementia to build a false narrative?"
"And when it didn't work, he abandoned her completely. She asked about him for months before she forgot he'd ever come."
The cruelty is breathtaking.
"Then there's Maya," Landon continues.
"Our Maya?" I can't keep the shock out of my voice.
"Two years ago, before she joined the foundation, Aiden hired her for a consulting project. Paid well, treated her professionally, built rapport over six months."
Landon's jaw tightens.
"Then he started asking questions about Zayden, casual at first. Maya didn't think much of it until he offered her double salary to come work for him full-time."
"She turned him down."
"She did. And the day after she declined, he sent her an email with attachments—screenshots of her personal social media, photos of her apartment building, her gym schedule, places she frequented."
Landon meets my eyes. "Proofs that he'd been tracking her movements for months."
My blood runs cold. "That's stalking."
"It's surveillance that stops just short of illegal. Maya reported it, but without explicit threats or repeated contact after she told him to stop, there wasn't grounds for a restraining order."
Landon flips to a new page.
"She came to work for the foundation three months later. Zayden hired her knowing Aiden had targeted her, specifically because he wanted someone on staff who understood what his half-brother was capable of."
The pieces are clicking together now, forming a picture I wish I couldn't see.
"So Aiden doesn't have any official role at the foundation? No board seat, nothing?"
"None. Never has. He's not on the board, never held a title, never had legitimate authorized access." Landon's voice is careful, measured. "That's what makes him dangerous—he doesn't need a position when he's got people inside willing to hold doors open for him."
"Marcus."
"Marcus is the obvious one, but I'd bet money there are others we haven't identified yet. Aiden collects allies the way other people collect business cards."
He taps his pen against the pad.
"There was a board member who got voted off six months ago—Trevor Marsh. Opposed every expansion decision, questioned Zayden's leadership at every turn, made thinly veiled comments about his 'reformed criminal past' during meetings."
"I remember Trevor. He was hostile from the start."
"He was positioned from the start. I've been reviewing communications—Trevor's objections weren't organic. They were too coordinated, too specific, targeting exactly the decisions that would slow the foundation's growth. The kind of opposition that comes from someone being fed talking points."
"By Aiden."
"I can't prove it yet, but the pattern fits. Aiden doesn't sit at the table—he puts people there who'll do what he wants without anyone tracing it back to him."
I sit with that for a moment. The architecture of it. Not one person attacking us, but a network—Marcus inside the building, Trevor on the board before he was removed, Vivienne in the public eye.
All of them orbiting Aiden like satellites around a planet that never shows its face.
"Why target me specifically?" I ask. "Why not go after Zayden directly?"
"Because you're the vulnerability he's been waiting for. Zayden's mother had dementia—easy to manipulate, but limited credibility. Maya was an employee—had professional distance, could walk away."
Landon leans forward.
"But you? You're his wife, co-founder. Pregnant with his child. If Aiden can destabilize you, he doesn't just hurt Zayden—he destroys the foundation's credibility."
"And the pregnancy specifically?"
"That's new territory. Aiden's never had access to something this intimate before. A pregnancy can be weaponized in dozens of ways—stress affecting your health, claims you're not fit to work, implications about timing, comparisons to Vivienne's fabricated miscarriage."
The mention of Vivienne sends ice through my veins. "You think they're coordinating? Aiden and Vivienne?"
"I think Aiden is opportunistic enough to use Vivienne's media campaign as cover for his own agenda. Whether they're actively working together or just exploiting the same chaos—either way, you're caught in crossfire."
Silence settles between us while I process this.
"What do I do?"
"Document everything." Landon slides a fresh legal pad across the table. "Every encounter, every comment, every time he's near you. Date, time, location, witnesses. Especially things that seem innocent—that's his specialty."
"You think it'll escalate."
"Today was the first time he made physical contact. That's a threshold." His voice is steady, professional. "Harassment cases are built on patterns. We need documentation showing systematic targeting, not isolated incidents that can be explained away."
I pull the pad toward me, pick up a pen, and begin writing.
November 14, 3:47 PM. Third floor printer alcove. Aiden approached while I was clearing a paper jam...
The words flow now that I have structure. Purpose. By the time I finish, it's past nine PM and my hand is cramping. Four pages of encounters I'd dismissed as uncomfortable but not dangerous.
They look different written down. They look like a pattern.
I photograph each page and email them to Landon.
His response comes immediately: Received. Keep this updated after every interaction, no matter how minor. And Jocelyn—watch Marcus. If I'm right about the network, he's the one giving Aiden access to everything happening inside those walls.
I lock the legal pad in my desk drawer and sit in the quiet of my empty office.