The second labor came on faster than the first, catching everyone slightly off guard despite the months of preparation. Gianna woke at three in the morning with contractions already close together, and by the time they’d dropped Eleanor at Antonia’s—half-asleep and confused but thrilled at the prospect of a sleepover with her grandmother—the drive to the hospital felt considerably more urgent than the leisurely eighteen minutes Julian remembered from years earlier.“This one’s in a hurry,” Gianna managed between breaths, gripping the door handle as Julian navigated the empty predawn streets.“Takes after you,” Julian said, only half joking, his own nerves barely masked beneath forced calm.They made it to the hospital with what the nurses cheerfully informed them was remarkably good timing, and within four hours—considerably faster than Eleanor’s marathon labor—the room filled once again with that same unmistakable sound, thin and furious and entirely alive.“It’s a boy,” the doctor a

The legal proceedings against Marcus and Sebastian moved faster than anyone anticipated, the recorded extortion attempt providing prosecutors with more than enough to pursue charges without the drawn-out uncertainty of a purely circumstantial case. Within six weeks, both men had accepted plea agreements rather than risk trial—Sebastian receiving probation given his more limited role, Marcus facing a suspended sentence contingent on restitution and an extended period of supervised release.Julian read the final settlement notice at his desk on a quiet Friday afternoon, something conclusive settling into his chest as he closed the file for what he hoped was the last time."That's it, then," he said, when Gianna appeared in his doorway. "Officially closed.""Officially closed," she confirmed, crossing the room to read over his shoulder. "No appeals, no further contact clauses violated. It's actually over."Julian leaned back, letting the reality of it settle fully. "I keep waiting for th

The wedding took place six months later, in early spring, at a coastal estate Antonia had championed from the very first spreadsheet and never once wavered on—stone terraces overlooking the water, gardens just beginning to bloom, the kind of understated grandeur that photographed beautifully without ever tipping into excess. Gianna stood at the top of the aisle with her father, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, watching the small crowd of family and close colleagues turn to face her. Vivian sat in the second row beside their father’s seat, dressed simply, her expression open and unguarded in a way that still occasionally caught Gianna off guard, six months into the slow, steady work of rebuilding trust between them. “Ready?” her father asked quietly. “Ready,” Gianna said, and meant it completely. They walked together down the aisle toward where Julian stood waiting, and Gianna watched his composure crack slightly the moment he saw her—not dramatically, just a small, help

Gianna pulled a chair beside his desk and sat down, taking his hand without saying anything at first, letting the silence hold space for whatever he needed before pushing him toward a decision. “Do you want to read it?” she asked finally. Julian looked down at the envelope, his father’s unsteady handwriting staring back at him. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to burn it unopened. Part of me has spent fifteen years wondering what he’d say if he ever got the chance.” “You don’t have to decide right now,” Gianna said gently. “But whatever you choose, I’ll be here for it.” Julian sat with that for a long moment, then picked up the envelope and carefully broke the seal, unfolding a single page inside. Gianna didn’t move, didn’t lean in to read over his shoulder, simply stayed beside him as his eyes moved across his father’s words. Julian, I don’t expect you to answer this, and I understand if you throw it away without finishing it. I’ve had a long time to think about what I’d say if

Julian sat in the VIP lounge for nearly twenty minutes before he finally pulled out his phone and typed the message. Something’s come up. I have to leave early. I’ll see you tomorrow. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Something had come up—just not the kind he could explain in a text message, not the kind that had anything to do with meetings or emergencies. What had come up was the sudden, suffocating clarity that Preston’s words had forced into the open, the realization that whatever he’d been carefully not naming between himself and Gianna had already grown into something too large to keep contained. He sent the message and left before she could respond. The drive back to the villa passed in a blur he barely registered. By the time he reached the front door, his decision had already hardened into something he refused to second-guess. He needed to leave. Not eventually. Not once things settled. Now, before this went any further, before his mother’s plans collided with whatever he was