Jake’s POV
I want to break Zachary's perfect face.
The urge burns in my fists, in my jaw, in every muscle coiled for violence. This polished assistant keeps trying to make me look bad, keeps positioning himself as Adison's real protector, and I'll be damned if I let that happen.
"—don't presume to lecture me about what she needs—" I'm saying, and Zachary's mouth is opening for another surgical strike, another carefully worded assault on everything I am.
Then he freezes mid-sentence.
His eyes have found Adison.
I turn, and the sight guts me.
She's crying. Silent tears tracking down her cheeks while we argued like she wasn't even in the room. Her shoulders shake without sound, and I realize with sick horror that we've been screaming over her head while she shattered right in front of us.
Zachary moves toward her.
I'm faster.
Three strides and I'm pushing the assistant aside, pulling Adison into my arms with a desperation that has nothing to do with territory and everything to do with the woman I love coming apart at the seams.
"Hey." My voice comes out rough. Broken. "Everything's gonna be okay. I'm here. I'm always here."
She clings to me like I'm the only solid thing left in the world. Her fingers dig into my shirt, her face pressed against my chest, and the tears come harder. Her whole body shakes with sobs she's been holding back God knows how long.
"Talk to me, baby." I cup the back of her head, holding her close. "Please. Tell me what you need."
She doesn't answer. Just cries.
I look at Zachary over her shoulder. The assistant stands frozen, his professional composure cracked just enough to show something human underneath.
"Leave." The word comes out flat. Final.
He doesn't move. Just watches us with that calculating expression I've come to hate.
"I said leave—"
"Jake, you have to go back to the ranch." Adison's voice is barely above a whisper, muffled against my chest, but the words land like bullets. I go still. Certain I've heard wrong.
"What?" I pull back enough to see her face. Tearstained. Red-eyed. Resolute in a way that makes my stomach drop. "No. Absolutely not."
"You have to." Her hands flatten against my chest, not pushing but creating distance. "I can't— with you here, I can't control myself. I'm responsible for more than just our love now."
"Adison—"
"My father's legacy." Her voice cracks but she pushes through. "The company. A reputation that's already bleeding from a thousand cuts."
"I don't give a damn about reputation—"
"I have to." She wipes her cheeks with shaking hands. "Don't you understand? Everything I've built here—Henderson, the board, Victoria—it's all unraveling because I couldn't keep my hands off you in an elevator."
"That wasn't your fault. Someone set us up—"
"It doesn't matter who set us up." She steps back from me, and the distance feels like miles. "It matters that we gave them the ammunition. And as long as you're here, I'll keep giving them more."
"You're gonna be CEO soon." I reach for her, and she lets me take her hands but doesn't step closer. "Once that's official, you won't need to hide anymore. We can be public. Real."
"Right now, reputation matters more." Her eyes hold mine, and I see the conviction there. The terrible, unshakeable certainty. "My father is dying, Jake. Dying. And every scandal I create is another knife in his chest. I won't kill him with my actions."
The words hit somewhere deep. Somewhere I can't argue against because I know what it's like to carry guilt. Know what it's like to feel responsible for someone else's pain.
"Perhaps I should give you privacy." Zachary's voice is careful. Diplomatic. "I can step out. Stay in touch by phone."
Neither of us responds. He disappears down the hallway, footsteps fading into silence, and we're alone with everything falling apart between us.
"I don't recognize this version of you." The observation escapes before I can stop it. "The woman I fell in love with—she fought for what she wanted. She burned down her whole life to be with me."
"And look where that got us." Her laugh is bitter. Broken. "A sex tape. A dying father. An empire on the verge of collapse."
"That's not on you—"
"It's all on me." She pulls her hands from mine. "Every choice. Every consequence. I wanted you too much to think clearly, and now everyone I love is paying for it."
"So your solution is sending me away." I hear the edge in my voice. Can't soften it. "Exiling me back to Texas like I'm the problem."
"You're not the problem." Her eyes fill with fresh tears. "You're the one thing I want most. And that's exactly why you have to go."
I stare at her. The woman I've loved through everything—through her father's threats, through Manhattan's judgment, through every impossible obstacle this world threw at us.
She's choosing them over me. Choosing performance over truth.
And the worst part? I understand why.
"Your father tried to separate us." My voice comes out hollow. "Threatened to destroy me if I didn't stay away. And you told him no. You chose me."
"I chose wrong." The words slice through the air between us. "I chose my heart over my head, and now everyone's suffering for it."
I run out of words.
There's nothing left to say. No argument that can compete with a dying father, a crumbling legacy, a reputation in flames. She's made her decision, and all my love can't unmake it.
"Okay." The word tastes like surrender. Like every loss I've ever swallowed.
Her face crumples. "Jake—"
"You want me gone?" I step back. Put distance between us because staying close will break what's left of me. "I'm gone."
"Please understand—"
"I understand." I don't. Won't. Can't. "I understand that Manhattan wins. That this world you were raised in finally got its claws back into you. I understand that everything we built together wasn't enough to compete with everything they told you you're supposed to be."
"That's not fair."
"None of this is fair." I'm moving toward the hallway, toward my room, toward the bag I'll have to pack. "But you made the choice. Now we both live with it."
I leave her crying in the living room.
Don't look back.
My room feels smaller than it did this morning. The walls press in, Manhattan's skyline glittering through windows that never show enough stars.
I sink onto the bed and stare at nothing.
Six months ago, I was a rancher who'd made peace with being alone. Then Adison Ward crashed into my life and made me believe in something I'd given up on decades ago.
Now I'm right back where I started. Alone.
The only difference is, this time I know exactly what I'm losing.