2025-03-04 18:36:50
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368. Isadora
It had been four months since Brandt and Isadora returned from their honeymoon like stay in Cuba —four months of playful days, long nights, and the constant, chaotic wonder of raising a newborn.Their daughter, Celeste, had transformed everything.And yet… nothing between them felt forced.Some days were a blur of diapers, spit up, and 03:00AM lullabies. Others felt like walking through a poem— Brandt cooking breakfast with Celeste tucked into the sling across his chest, Isadora sketching the world from their sunlit balcony as Brandt read novels aloud beside her.Today was somewhere in between.They lived in a cozy modern apartment not far from Van and Ivy’s mansion, close enough for impromptu visits and family dinners, but far enough to feel like their own space. Isadora’s art studio took up the sunroom, while Brandt converted the small office into a minimalist library with floor pillows and baby-proofed bookshelves.The rhythm they built was not perfect, but it was theirs.And they
367. After
The morning sun poured into the Everest mansion like honey through glass. Soft, golden, and impossibly warm.For once, no alarms buzzed. No meetings were scheduled. No toddlers burst through the door in a tornado of socks and demands. It was one of those rare mornings when time seemed to pause and take a breath.Van opened his eyes slowly.Ivy was already awake, curled beside him beneath the white duvet, hair spilling over the pillow like ink. She had one hand resting against her cheek, the other on his chest.“You’re staring,” she murmured without opening her eyes.“I’m allowed to,” he whispered back.She smiled and nestled closer.“I still can’t believe you all pulled that off.”Ivy laughed softly. “You’ve been so wrapped up in the company and your father’s mess, we knew you needed a reminder of what’s here. What’s real.”He ran his fingers through her hair.“You and the kids… You’re what’s real.”They lay in silence for a few more moments until a tiny knock came at the door.It was
366. Happy Birthday Van!!
The day had started like any other.Van was already dressed and in his home office by seven thirty, reviewing quarterly forecasts and fielding early calls from his European investors. Ivy peeked in around eight with Leona on her hip, hoping to convince him to come down for breakfast.“Five more minutes,” he said, distracted.She rolled her eyes. “That’s what you said thirty minutes ago.”He smiled at her —just a flicker— and then turned back to his screen. Ivy sighed and carried Leona back to the kitchen, where the real operation was already in motion.In the background, music hummed from the speakers: soft jazz, mixed with occasional bursts of child giggles.The dining table had been cleared to make space for decorations. A roll of gold and navy ribbons sat next to a large banner that read: “Happy Birthday, Van!”— hand painted in swirling script by Isadora, whose hands were now smudged with ink and glitter.“Does he suspect anything?” Isadora asked.“Not a clue,” Ivy said, then grinn
365. A Ray Of Sunshine
The video of Van’s announcement had gone viral overnight.Over five million views in twenty four hours. Dozens of op eds from business analysts. A trending hashtag: #LegacyUnmasked.Some praised him for his transparency and courage. Others accused him of destroying the Everest name. A few even called for his resignation, claiming he had embarrassed the board and destabilized the company.But Van stood firm.He spent the next forty eight hours in nonstop meetings— clarifying reports, answering calls from regulators, and reassuring jittery investors. He barely slept, surviving on strong black coffee and Ivy’s quiet touch when he finally returned home each night.His assistant noted that she had never seen him like this. Focused. Steady. But also… free.“Sir,” she said gently on the third morning after the announcement, “you’re bleeding.”Van glanced down. He had cut his palm while adjusting the edge of a binder. It was a shallow nick, but it left a thin trail of red across the white pap
364. The Battle Ahead
Van sat in his office the next morning, the anonymous message from the night before still fresh in his mind.“You think you’ve won, but we’re just getting started.”He had seen many threats in his time— corporate saboteurs, boardroom betrayals, scandalous exposés— but this one was different. It wasn’t just a threat to his career.It was personal.The message had come from an untraceable number, routed through two international servers, leaving his security team spinning. Whoever sent it knew how to stay hidden.His assistant brought in his morning espresso, unusually quiet. She set it on his desk, along with the early reports.“No updates yet?” Van asked, voice low.“No, sir. But cybersecurity’s monitoring everything.” She hesitated, then added, “And the media’s starting to speculate.”“Let them.”She lingered by the door. “There’s something else. The chairman of Triarch Investments called. They’re asking whether you’ll be stepping down.”Van didn’t flinch. “Tell them no.”“Understood
363. Peace Within The Storm
The morning air carried the scent of fresh dew and blooming lavender from the back garden. For the first time in days, the city sky was clear —a soft blue spread wide above the Everest estate. The light filtered through tall windows and spilled onto the polished floors like gold dust.Van stood in the kitchen in a navy henley shirt and linen pants, barefoot, hair still damp from the shower. He stirred a pot of oatmeal on the stove with one hand while balancing Leona on his opposite hip.She was watching him with wide, curious eyes, her tiny hand latched onto the collar of his shirt.“You’re going to be a morning person, aren’t you?” he muttered playfully.Leona gurgled in response.Ivy entered just as he finished serving breakfast for the twins.“You didn’t have to do all that,” she said, smiling as she walked over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.“I needed something quiet,” Van replied. “And I thought we could all use a slower start.”The twins came racing into the kitchen moments la
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