Asher's POV
It takes forty-eight hours for us to find Sophie’s father.
My professional connections, agents, lawyers, the network of people who owe me favors accumulated over years in the spotlight, combine with the private investigator Blaze hired to create an information web that Sophie's father couldn't escape.
By Tuesday afternoon, we have an address: the Riverside Motor Lodge, a run-down establishment on the outskirts of the city that reeks of desperation and failed schemes.
"Security footage confirms he's been there for at least three weeks," the investigator reports during our conference call. "Checked in under a fake name, pays cash, rarely leaves the room. Classic behavior for someone waiting out trouble."
Three weeks. He's been hiding in that motel for three weeks while his daughter faced the dangerous consequences of whatever promises he'd made to the wrong people.
While she was attacked on the street, beaten, nearly kidnapped—her own father was less than twenty miles away, doing nothing to help her.
The anger that rises in my chest isn't just for Sophie. It's the protective fury of someone who understands what it means to be failed by people who should have loved you unconditionally.
"What's our next move?" Blaze asks, his voice steady and focused.
We're gathered in our living room, me, Blaze, Sophie, and Eric, turning the space into an impromptu command center. Laptops and phones cover every surface, notes scribbled on legal pads, coffee cups accumulating like evidence of our determination.
"I'll coordinate with law enforcement," I say. "I know a detective who owes me a favor from that charity event last year. He can make sure the police are ready to move when we need them."
"And I'll handle the private security arrangements," Blaze adds. "Make sure we have backup that isn't dependent on official channels."
The division of responsibilities falls into place with surprising ease.
Despite the lingering tension from the photograph incident, despite the careful distance we've been maintaining even as we share the same space, we work together like the effective team we once were.
Each of us leverages our strengths without stepping on the other's territory.
For the first time in months, I remember why our partnership used to feel so natural. We complement each other instinctively when focused on a common goal. It's been so long since we had something to fight for together instead of against each other.
Sophie watches our coordination with something like wonder in her eyes. "You two are kind of terrifying when you're on the same side," she observes quietly.
"Years of practice," Blaze says, and for a moment, just a moment, his eyes meet mine with something warmer than the guarded neutrality he's been offering since he came home.
Over the next several hours, we hammer out the details. Eric proves surprisingly useful, asking thoughtful questions about security protocols and backup plans that none of us had considered.
His protective instincts have become more apparent with each passing hour, his focus laser-sharp on ensuring Sophie's safety above all else.
"What if he tries to run?" Eric asks during one planning session. "He's been hiding for weeks—he clearly knows people are looking for him. The moment he sees Sophie, he might bolt."
"That's why we're doing this in a controlled environment," I explain. "Public enough that he can't try anything aggressive, but contained enough that he can't easily escape. We'll have people positioned at every exit."
"And if the people who attacked Sophie show up? The ones looking for their money?"
"Then we have security ready to intervene, and law enforcement on standby." I glance at Blaze, who nods confirmation. "We're not leaving anything to chance."
Sophie has been quiet through most of these discussions, her expression shifting between determination and uncertainty. When we finally pause for a break, she voices what's been weighing on her.
"I don't know if I want justice or just peace."
She admits, curled into Eric's side on our couch.
"Part of me wants him to face legal consequences for everything he's done—the forgery, the fraud, putting me in danger. But another part just wants him gone. Out of my life permanently, no matter what that looks like."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive," Blaze says gently. "He can face consequences and still be out of your life. The legal system will handle the first part. The second part is up to you."
"What if I freeze? What if I see him and can't say any of the things I need to say?"
"Then we'll be right there with you." Eric's arm tightens around her shoulders. "You don't have to do this alone."
The meeting is scheduled for Thursday afternoon. We choose a conference room at a downtown hotel—public space, multiple exit routes, security personnel positioned discretely nearby.
The private investigator will ensure Sophie's father actually shows up, presenting the meeting as a "business opportunity" that appeals to his endless greed.
"He won't be able to resist," the investigator assures us. "Men like him always think there's one more score, one more angle they haven't tried. Dangle the right bait and he'll walk right into whatever trap you set."
The night before the meeting, I find Blaze on our balcony, staring at the city lights with an expression I can't quite read.
The tension between us has been slowly thawing as we've worked together on Sophie's situation, but we haven't talked about us. Haven't addressed the fragile state of our marriage beyond the immediate crisis.
"You've been amazing through all this," I say, stepping out to join him. "Coordinating security, keeping Sophie calm, handling the logistics. I'd forgotten what it's like to work with you instead of around you."
He's quiet for a moment. "It's easier when we have a common enemy. Someone to fight who isn't each other."
The observation stings because it's true. We've spent so much energy fighting each other lately that we forgot we're supposed to be on the same team.
"I miss this," I admit. "I miss us. The way we used to be before everything got so complicated."
"Me too." He turns to look at me, and there's something vulnerable in his expression. "But missing something doesn't automatically fix it, Asher. We have a lot of work to do."
"I know. I'm willing to do it. Whatever it takes."
He doesn't respond, but he doesn't move away when I step closer. We stand together in the darkness, not quite touching, watching the city pulse with life below us.
The next afternoon, we gather one final time before heading to the hotel. Sophie looks pale but determined, Eric a steady presence at her side. Our security team checks in via earpiece, confirming positions.
"Whatever happens in there, you control the conversation."
Blaze tells Sophie, his voice carrying the calm authority I've always admired.
"We're just backup if things go wrong. This is your moment—your chance to say whatever you need to say and take back the power he's held over you for so long."
Sophie nods, squaring her shoulders. "I'm ready."
As we head toward the cars, I feel a flicker of the old admiration for my husband—his protective instincts, his steady leadership, the way he always knows exactly what someone needs to hear.
Even as our own relationship remains fragile and uncertain, I'm reminded of why I fell in love with him in the first place.
We complement each other, we always have.
Now we just have to figure out how to stop tearing each other apart.