Evening wraps around us like a cocoon, the city glittering beyond the windows in a symphony of lights that feels indifferent to the chaos consuming our world.
I'm pressed against Jake's chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, and I can't stop apologizing.
"I should have anticipated this." The words scrape out raw. "Walter's betrayal. The leak. I gave us a false sense of security, and now everything's spiraling."
"Adison." His voice rumbles through his chest, gentle but firm. "Stop."
"Tomorrow we face the cameras and dispel the rumors." I push forward, needing him to understand. "We tell them the truth before Walter can twist it further."
His hand slides into my hair, tilting my face up until I have no choice but to meet his eyes. "The rumors are nothing compared to what's coming. You need to focus on yourself. On the life growing inside you."
His other hand finds my belly, protective and certain, and something in my chest cracks open.
"Everything else can wait." Jake's voice drops lower. "But you—our baby—that comes first. Always."
I reach for the chain around my neck, fingers finding the familiar weight of his wedding ring. The metal has lived there since Texas, warming against my skin, waiting for this moment.
I remove it slowly, feeling the chain slide free. The ring sits in my palm for half a heartbeat before I place the warm metal in his hand.
"Put it back where it belongs." My voice wavers despite my best efforts. "Please."
His eyes search mine, reading something that makes his expression shift into wonder mixed with certainty. He takes my left hand in his, the ring poised above my finger.
"Will you be my wife?" The question lands soft and absolute. "The mother of my children?"
My yes comes without hesitation. "Yes. God, yes."
The ring slides onto my finger, and the weight of it feels like coming home. Like every choice I've made since Texas has led to this exact moment—his ring on my hand, his baby in my body, his future tangled with mine in ways that can't be undone.
He kisses me until the world shrinks to just the two of us. Manhattan disappears. Walter's threats dissolve. The press conference waiting tomorrow becomes background noise we can ignore for just a little longer.
When we finally break apart, I'm breathless and grounded in equal measure.
"Will you wear your cowboy hat tomorrow?" The question escapes before I can second-guess it.
Jake pulls back slightly, confusion flickering across his face. "You hate that hat. You've made that perfectly clear since I arrived in Manhattan."
"I want everyone to see exactly who I'm choosing." I hold his gaze, letting the truth settle between us. "No apologies. No compromises. Just you."
Something shifts in his expression—surprise melting into something that looks like pride. "Then I'll wear it."
We stay pressed together while the city blazes on below, two people preparing for battle by finding shelter in each other.
* * *
Noon arrives too quickly the day that everything will come out in the open.
I stand outside the conference room with Jake beside me, his presence solid and steady despite the chaos buzzing behind closed doors. The press waits like predators sensing blood, and my stomach churns with nerves that have nothing to do with pregnancy.
Violet paces beside us, tension crackling off her skin like electricity seeking ground.
"If security would arm me, I could handle any problems that arise." She announces it with complete seriousness, her hands flexing at her sides. "My father taught me to shoot years ago. I'm an excellent shot."
"Absolutely not." The refusal leaves my mouth automatic and horrified. "Violet, we're not arming you."
"She's not wrong about having instincts." Jake's voice carries surprising support, and I turn to stare at him in disbelief.
"You're agreeing with her?" The words come out sharper than I intend. "About bringing weapons to a press conference?"
"About trusting her judgment." He meets my gaze steadily. "She knows Walter better than we do."
Before I can formulate a response that doesn't sound like panic, Zachary materializes beside us.
His expression is grave. Carefully controlled. The kind of composure that means disaster is imminent.
"Walter is inside." He delivers the information without preamble. "Seated among the journalists. Front row."
My blood turns to ice. "What?"
"I don't know what to expect." Zachary's voice carries a warning wrapped in strategy. "But prepare for anything."
He reaches into his jacket and produces small earpieces, pressing them into our hands with quick efficiency. "Communication devices. They link all of us throughout the conference. If anything goes wrong, we coordinate immediately."
I fit the earpiece into place, the technology settling against my ear like armor I didn't know I needed. Jake does the same, his jaw tight with tension that mirrors my own.
The doors begin to open.
Sound floods the hallway—voices overlapping, cameras clicking, the particular chaos of journalists sensing a story worth destroying someone over.
And there, in the front row exactly where Zachary said he'd be, Walter sits with his legs crossed and his expression pleasant.
His smile is visible from across the room, and it carries all the warmth of a blade sheathed in silk.
He catches my eye, and something passes between us—recognition of the war we're about to wage, acknowledgment that only one of us will walk away from this intact.
It isn’t just the sight of him that freezes me, it’s the ease with which he occupies the space, as if he belongs here more than I do. Like he’s the host and I’m the spectacle. The journalists lean subtly toward him, drawn to his quiet confidence, and my pulse stutters at the thought of what he might have already planted in their minds.
I can almost hear the questions forming, sharp and eager. My throat tightens, heat rising behind my eyes, but I force myself to breathe, force myself not to flinch. Walter would savor that. He’d wear my fear like a trophy.
Jake's hand finds mine, our rings pressing together as his fingers lace through my own.
"Ready?" His voice is low. Steady. Everything I need it to be.
I squeeze his hand once, feeling the weight of his ring on my finger and the life growing in my belly and the family I've chosen standing beside me.
"Ready."
The PR manager signals, and we step forward together into the lights.