Javier already knew. The moment she began looking past him instead of at him. But knowing something and accepting it were two different wars. And Javier Cortez did not surrender easily. He waited outside the estate gates just before sunset, leaning against his car like a man rehearsing courage. The air carried that early-evening hush, when the world seemed to pause before deciding whether to be romantic or reckless. Cassandra stepped out onto the front veranda, her brows knitting when she saw him. “Javier?” He straightened. “Evening.” She didn’t smile. “What are you doing here?” “I need to talk to you.” “You’ve said that before.” “And I’ll keep saying it until you listen.” Her arms folded instinctively. “We’ve talked.” “No,” he said quietly. “You’ve avoided. I’ve tried.” She hesitated. Princewill was away—business in another city, meetings that required absence and patience. And Javier had noticed. Of course he had. “You don’t have to look at me like

“This isn’t convenient,” he continued. “Your father’s history isn’t convenient. Javier’s persistence isn’t convenient. Distance isn’t convenient. But love isn’t built on convenience.” She closed her eyes. “So what is it built on?” “Decision.” “And you’re deciding?” “Yes.” She nodded slowly, even though he couldn’t see her. “Okay.” “Okay?” “Yes.” “Your heart isn’t racing anymore,” he observed quietly. She blinked. “How did you know?” “Your breathing changed.” She laughed softly through the remaining tension. “You always do that.” “Do what?” “Find a way to calm me without raising your voice.” “I don’t need to raise it.” She inhaled deeply. “I wish you were here.” “I will be.” “Soon?” “Yes.” “But not because you’re running from this.” “No.” “Because you’re ready.” “Yes.” She stood slowly. “Go,” she said softly. “I am.” “Princewill?” “Yes.” “I love you.” There was a brief pause, “I know.” She frowned slightly. “That’s

Jackson remained seated on the edge of his bed, phone still warm in his palm. The message to Al-Hakimi had already delivered. There was no taking it back now, he was going to do everything to make sure Steven falls. Now, he needs all the details he could get, here in this regard, information was leverage, leverage was power and power... well power was the only language that ever made sense in the Milton family. A knock sounded against his door, three times, calmly. Jackson didn’t answer immediately. He allowed the silence to stretch before saying evenly, “It’s open.” The door swung inward. Steven stood there, still in his dark suit, tie loosened just enough to suggest exhaustion but not weakness. His gaze swept the room once before settling on Jackson. There was no shock in his expression, only confirmation. “So,” Steven said coolly, stepping inside. “You’re back!” Jackson leaned against the headboard, unbothered. “Observant as always.” The door clicked shut

Sarah’s breath caught. “Steven—” “So don’t act like a mother,” he continued, emotion finally bleeding through the control. “Because you were never that to me.” The foyer felt like it had dropped ten degrees. Sarah stared at him as though she’d been struck. “Never?” she whispered. He didn’t soften. “You needed an heir,” he said. “A stabilizer, a name carrier... not a son! You needed him and you showed time and again.” “That is not true.” “You tolerated me,” he corrected. “And when it was time to dispose me and put me in jail, you didn't hold back for one second as long as it it wasn't your precious son, Jackson!” Her voice trembled. “I loved you.” “You saw me as dispensable!” Silence expanded between them, heavy with old ghosts. Sarah’s eyes glistened now, but she refused to let tears fall. “You think I don’t see what this has done to you?” she asked quietly. “Over the past few days, you carry everything... you don’t sleep. You don’t trust anyone.” “I do

Mabel did not hide her irritation when she heard about Cassandra's movement with Javier. “You did what?” she demanded, arms folded tightly across her chest as she stared at Cassandra across the café table. “It was just dinner,” Cassandra replied calmly. “With your ex, yet again.” “Yes.” “Alone.” “Yes, Mabel.” Mabel leaned back in her chair, exasperated. “Do you enjoy chaos?” Cassandra sighed. “I wanted closure.” “You already closed that door behind you, baby girl.” “I wanted to make sure it stayed closed.” Mabel opened her mouth to argue again—but paused. Cassandra wasn’t reckless, she wasn’t naive. If anything, she was cautious to a fault. “You’re not sixteen,” Mabel muttered finally. “No.” “And you’re not weak.” “No, I am not.” Mabel studied her friend carefully. Cassandra looked steady this time, not shaken and totally not confused. “Did he try anything?” Mabel asked. “He tried words,” Cassandra replied. “That’s all.” Mabel relaxed slightly.