The air inside Andrew’s private suite at the Everest family mansion felt heavier than usual.It wasn’t the decor— sleek and masculine with polished wood, leather chairs, and floor to ceiling windows. Nor was it the absence of staff. It was the silence. The kind that stretched taut between two people who had known each other too long to pretend.Van had told no one he was coming.He arrived just before dinner, unannounced, a simple knock against the thick mahogany door.Andrew opened it wearing a blazer and no tie, his usual half smirk firmly in place.“Well,” he said. “Look who finally made time for his big brother.”Van stepped in without responding.Andrew let the door swing closed behind them, then poured two glasses of brandy, offering one without a word.Van didn’t touch it.“Long day?” Andrew asked casually.Van took a breath. “Why were you meeting with Felix Durand?”The question cut through the room like glass.Andrew paused mid sip.Then, as if nothing had happened, he walked

Andrew didn’t say goodbye.He simply left a note on the long oak table in the Everest dining room, folded neatly beside his untouched morning coffee.“Gone for a long vacation. Don’t wait up. —A.”Van stared at it for a long time.There was no anger in his chest. No triumph, either. Just a quiet, cool breeze of closure. Andrew had always been too proud to admit defeat. But this wasn’t defeat— not really. It was acknowledgment.Van had chosen the hard road: truth, transparency, reconciliation. And somehow, through all of it, he hadn’t just survived. He had thrived.The company was no longer just stable —it was soaring.The Everest Enterprises had launched its most successful philanthropic initiative yet, an educational fund for underprivileged youth, inspired by Ivy’s early work as a teacher. Investor confidence was high, international deals were blossoming, and Van’s public reputation had shifted dramatically in recent months. Even board members who had once doubted him were singing h

It had been a long time since Van had truly slept in.But that morning, wrapped in a cocoon of soft sheets and the faint scent of lavender from Ivy’s pillow, he let himself drift in and out of sleep, his arm slung around her waist, her back pressed against his chest. The soft hum of the ceiling fan, the occasional cooing from the baby monitor —it was the background music to a life that had finally settled into harmony.When he finally opened his eyes, Ivy was already awake.She lay still in his arms, reading a book with one hand and gently stroking her belly with the other. The light from the window spilled across her profile like a painting. Her dark curls framed her face, and she looked content, like someone who had fought her battles and won.Van kissed her bare shoulder.“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice still husky from sleep.She smiled without looking up. “You slept like a rock.”“I haven’t slept like that in years.”“That’s because you used to sleep with a mind full of wa

The morning had started out just like the rest.Sunlight filtered in through the gauzy curtains of Van’s office as he leaned back in his chair, reviewing a quarterly report on one of their new international ventures. A fresh cup of coffee sat beside him, untouched, and soft music played from the speaker tucked near the window.It was the kind of morning that usually gave him a sense of peace— productivity without pressure, progress without urgency.But that day, a single name shattered the calm.“Sir,” his receptionist, Maya, said gently through the intercom, “A woman is asking to see you, she said her name is Bianca Hartley. She's waiting in the lobby.”Van froze.The name alone hit like a gust of cold air through an open door.Bianca.It had been a long time since he last saw her in person. The last encounter had ended quietly — but she was from a chapter in his life that he had shut down and never planned to open ever again. He was glad when she moved to another city, and Van had m

The drive into the city was quiet except for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional whisper of rain against the windshield. Van kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting lightly on the leather armrest, his gaze fixed on the traffic ahead. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say— it was that he wasn’t sure there was anything worth saying to Bianca anymore. When she had reached out earlier that week, her message had been short and polite. "Van, I’d like to see you one last time— just for closure. Nothing else." She had signed it with her full name, as if they were strangers exchanging formalities. It should have been simple. Closure. A neat little word meant to imply an ending, a final chapter. But Van knew Bianca better than that. He’d known her when her ambition had burned bright enough to set fire to everything around her, when her smile could be both intoxicating and dangerous. And Ivy… Ivy had been the one to surprise him the most. When he’d told her abou