Calvin’s POVStevie’s been here for three days, and I’m starting to think she’s allergic to letting people take care of her.She spends most of her time holed up in the guest suite, emerging only when absolutely necessary, like meals. Even then, she always looks like she’s bracing herself for an amb
Serena’s POVThe elevator ride up to Calvin’s penthouse feels endless, even though I’m pretty sure it’s moving faster than I can think. The last few days have been a blur of texts and phone calls with Stevie, each one giving me a little more reassurance that she’s okay, but not quite enough to calm
Calvin’s POVStevie is restless again. I can see it in the way she keeps adjusting the blanket on her lap and tapping her fingers against the arm of the couch. She’s trying to hide it, but I know better.“You’re bored,” I say, watching her from across the living room.“No, I’m not,” she replies, her
Stevie’s POVIt’s too quiet in the penthouse. The kind of quiet that makes you feel small, even in a place this massive. Calvin left early for a meeting, saying he’d be back by lunch, but it’s already 2 p.m., and I haven’t heard a word from him.Not that I care.Okay, maybe I care a little.I pace a
Stevie’s POVThe soft hum of the penthouse’s ventilation system is too damn loud today. Or maybe it’s my own restlessness that’s making me hyper-aware of everything—the sound of my foot tapping against the floor, the faint ticking of a ridiculously expensive clock that Calvin insists is “decorative.
Calvin’s POVThe morning starts like most others these days. I wake up early, review emails over a cup of coffee, and make a mental list of everything I need to get done before the day spirals out of control. Except, today, there’s a weight sitting on my chest that has nothing to do with quarterly r
Stevie’s POVThe envelope looks expensive. Heavy cream-colored paper, embossed gold lettering, and Calvin’s name written in the kind of script that probably costs more than my monthly grocery bill. He’s staring at it like it’s a summons to court.“What is that?” I ask, leaning against the kitchen co
Stevie’s POVThe camera feels good in my hands. Familiar. Steady. It gives me something to focus on other than the weight of a hundred judgmental stares and the deafening hum of old money conversations swirling around me.Through the viewfinder, the Lancaster gala is dazzling. Gilded chandeliers spa
Stevie‘s POV“Calvin, I can’t just say yes.”The words tumble out before I can stop them, hanging in the air between us. His eyes, which had been so hopeful, cloud over with something I can’t quite place—disappointment, maybe, or worry.We’re sitting in my apartment, the baby gear shoved into the co
Stevie‘s POVThe lens feels foreign in my hands at first, like it’s judging me for neglecting it for so long. I twist the focus ring back and forth, snapping shots of random things in my apartment: the pile of laundry I still haven’t done, the chipped paint on the windowsill, the vase of wilted dais
Serena‘s POVI can’t focus. Not on the new campaign proposals sitting in front of me, not on the email from our partners in Paris, and definitely not on the cup of tea I made an hour ago that’s gone cold on my desk.All I can think about is Stevie.Her face, flushed with anger, tears glistening in h
Calvin‘s POVThe buzz of my phone pulls me out of my focus, its vibration rattling against the glass surface of my desk. It’s another alert, no doubt tied to the leak at Etoile de Collin. The headlines have been relentless: “Scandal Rocks Global Launch,” “Is Etoile de Collin Losing Its Shine?”I don
Stevie‘s POVThe click of my camera is the only sound in my apartment. The blinds are half-drawn, letting in just enough light to paint soft streaks across the floor. I’ve spent the last hour taking photos of mundane things — a chipped coffee mug, the shadow of my old ficus, the crumpled blanket I t
Calvin’s POVThe call comes in just as I’m reviewing a financial report in my office. It’s Serena, and I can tell immediately from her clipped tone that something’s off.“Calvin, we have a situation,” she says, not bothering with pleasantries.I lean back in my chair, setting the report aside. “What
Serena’s POVI tap my pen against the edge of the conference table, staring at the open file in front of me. My head’s buzzing, not from caffeine—I haven’t had nearly enough of that today—but from the words staring back at me in black and white.“Are you sure about this?” I ask Grace, my PR director
Calvin’s POVI’ve been staring at her address on my phone for ten minutes, trying to work up the courage to get out of the car. It’s ridiculous. I’ve faced down corporate takeovers and boardroom ambushes without flinching, but this? This feels harder.Stevie’s apartment building looms in front of me
Bill’s POVThe sound of waves crashing against the shore is a far cry from the usual buzz of our daily lives. No conference calls, no meetings, no tantrums over spilled cereal. Just the ocean, the wind, and Collin’s laughter as he runs across the sand, a kite string gripped tightly in his little han