Adison’s POV
The kitchen feels smaller with all three of us crowded around my phone.
Violet's message glows ominously on the screen: You need to be in New York. Talk to Walter before he does something.
"She won't answer." I set the phone down, frustration threading through my voice. "I called twice. She declined both times and texted that she couldn't speak yet. Said we'd talk once I reached the city."
Jake leans against the counter, arms crossed tight over his chest. "What the hell does that mean? Before he does something?"
"I don't know." The admission scrapes out raw. "She didn't explain."
The urgency without explanation coils through the room like smoke. I watch it settle into Jake's shoulders, into the hard line of his jaw. Zachary stands near the window, his expression shifting into something calculating and familiar.
"Let's think through this systematically." Zachary's voice carries that careful precision I've come to rely on. "Walter could be planning a hostile PR leak. Something designed to damage your reputation before you can control the narrative."
"That's possible." I turn the theory over, testing its weight. "He knows about the pregnancy. About Jake. That's ammunition."
"Or Victoria herself could be the threat." Zachary continues, warming to the analysis. "We've assumed she's an ally, but what if her loyalties have shifted? What if she's feeding Walter information to use against you?"
Jake's jaw tightens. I watch the muscle flex beneath his skin.
"There's also the company angle." Zachary paces slowly, methodical. "A legal maneuver targeting Ward Enterprises' governance structure. Walter mentioned buried history between your families. That could translate into some kind of ownership claim."
Each hypothesis sounds plausible. Each one lands wrong.
I stare at Violet's message, trying to read between the sparse words. Before he does something. The phrasing implies action. Imminent action. Something Walter hasn't done yet but plans to.
And then it crystallizes.
The real threat isn't whatever corporate maneuver Walter might be planning. It's the ticking clock on our secret. The leverage he holds over our private world. Every day that passes without us controlling the narrative is another day Walter can detonate it on his terms.
"I need to go back." The words leave my mouth before I've fully committed to them. "To New York. With Zachary."
Jake's head snaps toward me. "What?"
"We need a strategy for going public." I force steadiness into my voice, even as my heart pounds against my ribs. "Something controlled rather than reactive. If Walter's planning to expose us, we have to beat him to it."
"Adison—"
"You can follow once we've mapped the terrain." I push forward, not letting him interrupt. "I figure out what we're actually dealing with. Then we'll know what move to make."
Jake pushes off the counter, his whole body radiating tension. "You're pregnant."
It's almost funny, but why remind me, I can feel it!
"I know that." My voice wavers despite my best efforts. "I'm not forgetting that."
"Then act like it." He steps closer, and I see the fear beneath his frustration. The worry etched deeper than corporate concerns warrant. "You're carrying our child, and you want to fly across the country into whatever mess Walter's creating? What about the risk? What about the stress this puts on your body?"
"What about letting him destroy everything we've built?" The counter comes out sharper than I intend. "If Walter goes public before we do, we lose control. We become the scandal instead of the story."
"I don't care about the story." Jake's voice drops low. Rough. "I care about you. About keeping you safe. About not watching you run toward a fight you don't have to face alone."
The distance that keeps fracturing what we've barely rebuilt stretches between us. I feel it like something physical—the space created by choices that pull in opposite directions.
"This isn't running toward a fight." I reach for his hand, but he doesn't take it. "This is protecting what we have. Protecting our future."
"By leaving." The accusation lands quiet and devastating. "By choosing that battlefield over our bed."
I flinch. Can't help it.
"Jake." Zachary's voice cuts through the tension, careful but firm. "She's right."
Jake's attention snaps to him. Something dangerous flickers behind his eyes.
"The situation requires proactive management." Zachary keeps his tone measured, diplomatic. "If we wait for Walter to make his move, we'll be playing defense indefinitely. Adison going to New York gives us the chance to establish control before he can weaponize what he knows."
The alliance cuts Jake deeper than the disagreement itself. I watch it register—the realization that Zachary supports my plan, that he's siding with strategy over emotion.
"So that's it." Jake's voice goes flat. Empty. "You've already decided."
"I'm trying to protect us." The words scrape out desperate and honest. "All of us. Including the baby."
"By putting yourself in harm's way." He shakes his head slowly. "That's not protection, Adison. That's a sacrifice. And I'm tired of watching you sacrifice yourself for people who don't deserve it."
"Walter isn't who I'm doing this for."
"Isn't he?" Jake meets my eyes, and the pain there nearly breaks me. "Because from where I'm standing, you're letting him dictate your choices. Letting his threats send you running back to a city that almost destroyed you."
The accusation lands somewhere tender. Somewhere I don't want to examine too closely.
"I'll be careful." It's the only promise I can offer. "I'll call every day. You’ll come the moment we have a plan."
Jake doesn't respond. He just stands there, watching me like I'm already gone.
Zachary clears his throat softly. "I'll book the flights. We can leave tomorrow if you want to move quickly."
I nod without looking away from Jake. "Tomorrow. Yes."
The kitchen falls silent. Outside, the Texas sun blazes on, indifferent to the fractures forming between us.
Jake finally moves. He walks past me without a word, his shoulder brushing mine as he heads for the door. The contact feels like goodbye.
"Jake—"
"I'll be in the barn." His voice carries the weight of a man watching the woman he loves choose a battlefield over being with him. "I hope you really get what you're doing."
The door swings shut behind him.
I stand in the empty kitchen, Violet's message still glowing on my phone, and wonder if protecting our future means destroying our present.