POV Jared
Three days of silence stretch between us like a wound that refuses to close.
I sit in the security office at two in the morning, watching footage I have already reviewed seventeen times. The timestamp reads 7:43 PM—approximately forty minutes before the inspector's first course arrived.
My eyes burn from staring at the grainy feed, searching for something I must have missed.
Raegan moves through her station with the precision I fell in love with. She checks temperatures, adjusts seasoning, plates with the kind of care that transforms cooking into art.
Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious. Just a woman doing the job she has devoted her life to mastering.
I scrub forward. 7:51 PM. Raegan steps away to consult with Maxwell about the tasting menu sequence.
And then I see him.
Adrian slides into frame with the casual confidence of someone who knows exactly where the camera blind spots are. He glances around once, twice, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small vial.
The motion takes less than three seconds—a quick pour into the béarnaise, a stir with a nearby spoon, and he is gone before Raegan returns.
The evidence I needed has been sitting here the entire time. I just refused to look for it because looking would have meant admitting I destroyed the woman I love based on the poisoned words of someone who wanted her gone.
My phone sits on the desk, screen dark with ignored messages.
I have texted Raegan eleven times. Called eight.
Each attempt met with the kind of silence that speaks louder than any words she could have chosen.
‘I'm sorry’ feels pathetically inadequate.
‘I believe you’ arrives three days too late to matter.
The security footage plays on loop while guilt carves trenches through my chest. Adrian's smirk as he walks away. Raegan's return to her station, completely unaware that her career is about to detonate around her.
We did this. Maxwell and Kobe and me.
We looked at the woman who trusted us with her body and her secrets and her sister's future, and we chose to believe Winnie instead.
I grab my keys and head for Brooklyn.
The building looks different at night—smaller somehow, less imposing than the wealth I grew up surrounded by. I climb three flights of stairs because the elevator is broken, each step heavy with the weight of what I am about to face.
Elsie answers on the second knock.
Her expression shifts from confusion to recognition to fury in the span of a heartbeat. The hearing aid catches the hallway light as she tilts her head, studying me with the particular intensity of someone cataloging every reason to hate me.
"She's not here." The words come out flat, practiced, like she has been rehearsing them. "And even if she was, I wouldn't let you anywhere near her."
"Elsie, please. I need to explain—"
"Explain what, exactly?" She does not step aside, does not soften. "That you accused my sister of sabotage based on the word of some trust fund princess?"
The accusations land with precision because every single one is true.
"I was wrong." The words scrape past the tightness in my throat. "I have security footage that proves Adrian tampered with her sauces. She was set up, Elsie. I should have believed her from the beginning, and I failed her completely."
"She cries at night, did you know that?" Elsie's laugh holds no humor. "She trusted you with parts of herself she has never shown anyone, and you repaid that trust by throwing her away the moment things got complicated."
The image of Raegan crying alone in her room while I sat in my penthouse convincing myself I had been justified—it tears something loose inside my chest.
"I love her." The confession escapes before I can filter it.
"Love." Elsie spits the word like it tastes rotten. "You don't destroy people you love. You fight for them. You believe them when the whole world says they're lying. That's what love actually looks like."
She moves to close the door, and desperation claws at my throat.
"Wait."
My hand catches the frame before she can shut me out.
"There's something I need to tell you. Something Raegan doesn't know, and I never wanted her to find out because it wasn't about earning her gratitude or making her feel indebted to me."
Elsie pauses, suspicion warring with curiosity in her dark eyes. "What could you possibly say that would matter right now?"
"For the past two years, I have been paying for your hearing aid upgrades through a fake insurance program I created."
The confession tumbles out before I can second-guess it.
"Every new device, every specialist consultation, every improvement to your equipment—none of it came through restaurant benefits. It came from me, routed through enough shell companies that Raegan would never trace it back."
Silence stretches between us. Elsie's expression flickers through confusion, disbelief, and grudging reassessment.
"That's impossible." Her voice wavers. "The paperwork all said it was through Lumière's employee program. Raegan checked everything herself, multiple times."
"I made sure the documentation looked legitimate. I hired people specifically to create a paper trail she would believe."
I release the door frame, suddenly exhausted.
"She wasn't even with me two years ago. We were barely speaking outside of work. But I watched her sacrifice everything she wanted. What I could do was make sure her sister had the best possible care without adding to her burden."
"Why keep it secret?" Elsie's arms uncross slightly, the defensive posture softening despite her obvious effort to maintain it. "If you loved her that long, why not tell her?"
"Because it was never about earning points or making her grateful. It was about taking care of someone I loved the only way I knew how before I had the courage to love her openly."
I meet her gaze without flinching.
"I didn't want her looking at me and seeing another debt she needed to repay."
Elsie stares at me for a long moment. The fury in her eyes cracks just slightly, revealing grief and confusion tangled together underneath.
"That doesn't fix what you did." Her voice wavers despite her obvious effort to keep it steady.
The smallest opening. More than I deserve.
I nod once and step back from her doorway. The door closes quietly—not slammed, just shut—and I am left alone in the hallway with the weight of everything I need to fix.
Apologies are not enough. Security footage is not enough. Pretty words and promises mean nothing from a man who already proved those things worthless.
If I want Raegan back—if I want to prove that my love is more than just a convenient emotion I discard when trust becomes difficult—I need to show her with action.
I pull out my phone and open a group chat I never thought I would use for anything beyond restaurant logistics.
Security footage proves Adrian sabotaged the sauces.
Raegan was innocent.
We need to talk. Tonight.