I let out a low whistle, shaking my head. “Juniper, this… this is insane.” “Is it?” she asks. “Or is it the only way you’re going to stand a chance against her?” She’s got me there. Mabel has done everything in her power to make my life hell, slipping through every loophole, manipulating every situation to her advantage. She's always a step ahead. If I could get her family to give me something… anything I could use… “Desiree will never forgive me if she finds out,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop myself. Juniper tilts her head, watching me carefully. “That’s why you’ll need to be discreet. And if you play this right, Desiree won’t need to know a thing. You’re not doing this to hurt her—you’re doing it to protect her.” There’s a twisted sort of logic to it, but I can’t deny the thrill that runs through me at the thought. “You really think this could work?” “Absolutely.” Juniper’s voice is full of conviction, the same tone she uses when she knows she’s right.
She blinks, her face falling as if I just told her we’re going on a long trip to a dentist's office. “My family? What family?” “Extended family.” “What have they got to do with anything?” “Shit, that reaction wasn’t the warm embrace I was hoping for,” I say, leading her toward the exit. “Can you be a little less obvious about your hatred? Where’s the family spirit?” “Long gone, Caspian. Seriously, can we not?” She gives me a look. “I’m starving. Can we focus on that?” I chuckle, holding open the door for her. “Fine. Food first. But you’re not off the hook, just so you know.” We say a few brief goodbyes to Isaac and promise we’ll visit him, Juniper, and the babies soon. And after what feels like an eternity, we finally make it to the car. The second we’re on the road, I know it’s only a matter of time. Desiree’s too curious, too sharp not to ask questions. I can practically feel her thoughts churning beside me. “So…” she says, fiddling with the radio, the question lingering in
“Maybe they’ve changed,” I suggest, not quite ready to drop this. “People can surprise you.” She chuckles. “You think my mom’s suddenly going to be okay with the fact that I wanted more than a chicken coop? Or that my stepmom is going to forget the fact that I dared to dance for a living?” “You’d be surprised.” I give her a sideways glance. “People can come around in unexpected ways. Maybe they’ve been waiting for you to reach out.” “Waiting?” she scoffs. “Trust me, if they’d cared at all, they would have reached out to me.” Silence falls between us, thick and uncomfortable, and I can feel the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I want to push, to get her to see the merit in what Juniper said, but at the same time, I know that pushing too hard will only drive her further away from the idea. After a moment, I decide to take a different approach. “Okay, so… let’s say you don’t care about mending things with them. Fine. But maybe you should do it for yourself.” She rais
She laughs, a genuine laugh that feels like a ripple across my skin. “You know that’s not what I meant. But she has this...unpredictable energy. You have to admit it’s kind of entertaining.” I pretend to sigh. “Oh, I know it too well. She’s a one-woman circus. Especially when she decides to steal her husband’s furniture right out from under him.” I pause, picturing the scene of Juniper packing up half her house while Isaac was out. “Can you imagine what he must’ve thought, walking into an empty house?” Desiree’s laughter bubbles up, shaking both of us. “The poor guy must’ve had a heart attack. Imagine coming home to... nothing. She’s wild. The idea of yanking out all the furniture and just...moving in here without a plan.” "Exactly. And not even a word about it until it’s halfway done. ‘Oh, I’ll just set up shop at Caspian and Desiree’s. They won’t mind. And Isaac...well, he’ll be fine with it. Eventually.’” I smirk, shaking my head. “I mean, how she didn’t expect him to call about
Desiree's POV For the first time in days—no, weeks—Caspian is finally heading out of the house. I watch him adjust his tie in the mirror by the door, his face looking oddly alive with something that almost resembles eagerness. He’s got that rare sparkle in his eye, the one I’ve seen too few times lately, as if he’s back to chasing some semblance of purpose. Finally. I lean against the doorframe, arms folded, giving him one last scrutinizing look as he straightens his coat. He catches my gaze in the mirror, giving me a lopsided smile, and it’s almost enough to soften me. Almost. “Don’t forget what we talked about,” he says, just like that, as if we’d been discussing mundane grocery lists and not the enormous and inconvenient subject of my estranged family. “What?” I ask, knowing full well what he’s getting at. His eyes narrow a fraction. “Call your parents, Cherry. Do it for me.” I make a face, one that I hope conveys just how little I want to hear this right now. “I’ll thi
“Desiree,” he says, with a sigh that feels too familiar. “Let’s not go down that road. She just wants to make amends. You know how she is.” “Oh, I know exactly how she is, Dad. Remember, she’s the one who threw me out because I wasn’t living up to her standards of… what was it?” I snap my fingers, recalling the exact wording she used, “moral purity? Because I was, God forbid, dancing?” I can almost hear him wince. “She… she wasn’t fair to you. I’ll give you that. But she’s tried to see things differently. We both have.” My stomach twists at his words, but I don’t know if it’s anger or something darker, something lonelier. “So that’s all it takes? I get married, and suddenly, she’s seeing things differently?” “Desiree, this isn’t easy for me either, you know.” His voice is low, pleading, as if he wants me to understand something I’m not quite grasping. “When you left… it wasn’t just you who left. It was a part of our family. A part of me. Maybe now… I don’t know. Maybe now we can…
“Yes.” Another pause, and she sounds almost surprised herself. “It’s me.” My hand is still on the edge of the sink, fingers digging in, anchoring me. A thousand things run through my head at once, and none of them make it out. Instead, I stand there, speechless, feeling like I’ve been kicked in the chest. She clears her throat, and I can almost picture her doing it—sitting on that worn floral couch in the living room back home, clutching her old phone with those thin, elegant fingers. “Your father called me. Said you two had talked.” “Yeah, we did.” I’m grasping at straws here, trying to find the right tone. Do I play it cool, cold, indifferent? Or do I ask her how the hell she got my number and what she thinks she’s doing calling me after all these years? “Did he tell you why he called me?” Her voice is light, but there’s something brittle underneath. I can feel it, that same tension from so long ago, like a knife edge that could slice me open if I’m not careful. “No,” I say. “H
Caspian's POV I just rounded up from a shareholders meeting that involved everyone saying Mabel's name in every sentence. She's now a parasite that won't go. A parasite doing too much damage. And maybe Juniper is right. The best way to expunge that parasite is through her family. I only wish Desiree were on board with it. I walk through the door, my mind still spinning. I kick off my shoes, looking forward to a quiet evening and hopefully a chance to forget about corporate betrayal. But something’s different. I see them as soon as I enter: flower petals, scattered across the floor, stretching like a path of tiny red flags. They’re not just in a line—they’re spread across the hardwood in an artful, winding trail, leading down the hall. I follow them, a smirk spreading across my face. There’s only one person who’d leave a path like this, especially one that leads so obviously to the bedroom. The door is slightly open, and I push it, stepping inside to see Desiree lounging on the be