008. Thinking Like a Reed...

AVA’S POV

“Confirm your engagement.”

I blinked. “To who?”

My mom’s lips curled up as she replied. “Detective Ramos.”

I stared at her. “That’s— Are you serious?”

“As cancer.”

“You want me to fake a relationship. Publicly. And not to anyone, but to a detective.”

“Why fake it?” she shrugged. “The man is attractive. And you’re clearly… interested.”

“Interested in finding out if he’s a risk to my daughter, yes.”

“Isn’t that what all relationships are?” she mused. “Risk assessments in pretty packaging?”

I got to my feet. “This is insane.”

“No, darling. They are. The board. The donors. The gossip hounds. They’re insane if they think they can back you into a corner. You’ve always been at your best when they underestimate you.”

I paced, dragging a hand through my hair. “Even if I wanted to pull something like that—which I don’t—I barely know the man. We’ve spoken twice. This isn’t a game.”

“And yet the world’s already playing it,” she said. “You’re trending. They’ve already written the love story. All you’d be doing… is taking control of the script.”

My brain short-circuited for a full three seconds.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. And I’ve already drafted the press release. We’ll announce it as a private engagement. Surprise rekindled romance, keeping it quiet for Pearl’s sake—until now.”

I stared at her in horror. “You actually wrote it?”

“Of course I did,” she said. “You raised a child. I raised a legacy. We both planned ahead.”

My voice was flat. “You’re completely unhinged.”

“And yet, somehow, still always right.” She stepped forward, hands on my shoulders, her voice gentler now. “They want to paint you into a corner, Ava. Do the opposite. Take control. Own the narrative. Hell—shock them. You say you’re engaged to that detective? Suddenly, you're not the distracted CEO—they’ll spin it as a bold, empowering choice. Woman of power. Finding love. Owning her story.”

“You’re talking about playing chess with my life.”

“And you’re already on the board,” she said. “You just haven’t made your move yet.”

My mind spun—PR, donors, Pearl, Alex.

Alex.

A man with a too-clean record and a question mark for a past.

A man who kept slipping through my fingers, even as I tried to trap him in research and suspicion.

A man who made my daughter smile.

A man who, if he was hiding something… this would flush it out fast.

My mother watched me carefully, sensing the shift in my thoughts.

“Don’t look so scared,” she said. “You’re not actually marrying the man.”

“Not yet,” I muttered.

Her smile widened. “That’s the spirit.”

“We’re forgetting something,” I exhaled. “He’s a detective, and I’m—” I cut myself off. But it was too late. Her eyes sharpened. “I’m not just a surgeon, Mom.” My voice was quieter now, but firmer. “I have secrets. Another name, another life.”

Her expression didn’t change. “La Rosa.”

I nodded once. “What if he finds out? What if this little game of PR chicken blows up in my face and he starts really looking at me? I’ve worked too damn hard to build this life. To keep that one separate. What happens if he unearths it?”

She studied me for a moment. Then said calmly, “Then you bury him before he does.”

My blood chilled, but she kept speaking.

“You didn’t claw your way to the top of this world to be undone by a man—or a name. If he digs, fine. Let him. And if he gets close, you handle it.”

“I’m not killing him, Mother.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she said with a slight smile. “But you are forgetting who you are. Ava Reed didn’t rise to power by accident. And the Godmother? She survived worse men than this.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly.

“This isn’t just politics anymore,” I whispered. “This is me—everything I’ve hidden, everything I’ve tried to keep apart. If he uncovers that…”

“Then you decide what he finds,” she said. “Control the story. Or someone else will.”

I turned to the window, looking out at the city lights that used to comfort me. Now they felt like a spotlight.

“I need to talk to him.”

“No,” she said. “You need to warn him.”

I looked back at her, arms crossed tight across my chest.

“You’re going to give him exactly one chance to back out,” she said, stepping away, already pulling her phone from her designer clutch. “If he says no, fine. We find another way. But if he says yes…”

I crossed my arms, and despite everything—the fear, the doubt, the danger—I found myself finishing her sentence. “Then the whole city’s about to hear the biggest plot twist of the year.”

Eleanor winked at me. “Now you’re thinking like a Reed.”