TWELVE
JULIAN
The monitors on the home office wall glow, a low, static hiss that usually calms me but today, it feels like a drill pressing against my temples.
Six camera feeds show different corners of the building in dull blocks of gray.
Lobby. Elevator. Parking garage. Front entrance. Service entrance. The private lift. Everything looks normal on screen, but the knot in my stomach refuses to loosen.
Kieran is still out there.
A week has passed since the delivery box arrived at my office, but the sight of those masquerade masks stays burned behind my eyelids.
The broken woman’s mask. The shattered male mask, glued back together.
Every time Olivia leaves my sight, my mind defaults back to the abandoned warehouse in Red Hook.
The smell of rotting timber, the blood on her skin, the terrifying certainty that I was seconds too late.
Never again.
Beyond my home office door, the faint, rhythmic click of a keyboard drifts from the dining room. She’s working on HavenLink.
The door clicks open. My shoulders instantly drop an inch.
Olivia pokes her head inside, a soft smile playing on her lips. It takes exactly ten minutes of separation for me to start treating my own home like a live combat zone.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
She steps into the room, carrying a mug. The rich, bitter scent of dark roast clears the stale air before she even reaches the mahogany desk.
“Coffee.”
“You’re a saint.” I take the mug, breathing in the steam. “But how did you manage to brew this? Usually the smell alone sends you running for the bathroom.”
“I know.” She smiles, resting her hands on her waist. “But it seems like this little pea knows we’re on to her. She’s giving me a break today. No nausea at all, though I still can’t actually drink it.”
She pouts, her lower lip turning out in that stubborn way I know too well. It kills her to give up her morning ritual. Ever since the morning sickness started, my espresso machine has been off-limits to her while she sticks strictly to herbal teas.
Her soft laugh edges out the silence. When she leans down, her lips press against mine, warm, sweet, an instant shock to my system.
As she pulls back, my palm automatically finds the hem of her oversized gray sweater, settling flat against her lower abdomen.
The movement is an unthinking reflex now.
Her smile changes, growing incredibly tender. “You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“The baby is the size of a pea, Julian.”
“Our pea.”
She rolls her eyes, but the light in her gaze is blinding. I pull her down slightly, resting my forehead against hers, breathing her in.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow is the first ultrasound. Tomorrow, we hear the heartbeat.
The sudden, abrasive vibration of my phone against the wood shatters the moment. The screen flashes: Trent Wallace.
Olivia notices the shift in my posture immediately.
“Everything okay?”
“I don’t know yet.” I slide the phone across the desk, pressing answer. “Trent.”
“Julian,” his voice comes through tight, stripped of his usual elite composure. “Marcus wouldn’t tell me anything, but I saw the private detail request. Three security cars at all times.”
My muscles lock. “Why?”
“Because I know what Kieran did to her, and I know what he did to the NexaCore servers. We need to talk. Sort this out asap.”
“Fine, come to the penthouse.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” The line goes dead.
Olivia raises an eyebrow, watching me pocket the device. “That sounded mysterious.”
“That’s because Trent thinks an inheritance replaces basic communication skills.”
She laughs, the sound warming my chest, but the mere thought of what Trent and I did to her at St. Clair Academy is already creeping into the room. The names he used to call her. The cruelty we inflicted.
“I’ll make lunch,” she says, kissing my cheek before heading toward the kitchen.
Twenty-five minutes later, the intercom buzzes. Security confirms the elevator clearance. When the office door swings open, Trent doesn’t look like the untouchable corporate legacy he portrays at the office. His posture is rigid, his eyes carrying an exhausted shadow as his gaze sweeps my monitors.
“Shit,” Trent mutters, stopping three feet from the desk. “You turned this place into Fort Knox.”
“Good. I have my reasons.” I remain seated, letting the silence between us stretch.
Finally he says, “Tell me everything.”
I frown. “Everything?”
“Everything.”
I lean back. Then I do. I tell him about the masks. About the messages. About Kieran. About the security upgrades. The investigation Detective Reyes is handling. About the fact that we still haven’t found the bastard.
Trent listens quietly, his face growing darker with every word.
Then I tell him about Olivia’s pregnancy.
Silence. Complete silence.
Trent simply stares at me. “What?” He shakes his head. “You got Olivia pregnant?”
I laugh. “What kind of question is that?”
“The kind where I need confirmation because I never thought I’d see the day.”
I flip him off.
His grin fades. “Seriously?”
I nod.
The grin disappears completely. “You’re going to be a father.”
A strange, heavy warmth moves in my chest, striking me in a way nothing in this world ever has.
“Yeah.” The single word comes out rough.
For a long moment Trent doesn’t speak. Then his eyes drift toward the office door, toward where Olivia is working. When he looks back at me, something has changed in his expression. Something thoughtful.
“You really love her.”
I don’t even hesitate. “More than my own life.”
Trent goes still. And for the first time since he walked into the room, I think he finally understands. This isn’t a relationship. This isn’t a fling. This isn’t a second chance romance. Olivia is my future. She’s, my family. She’s everything.
“Fuck,” Trent mutters quietly.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing.” His jaw ticks, and then he leans forward.
“Tell me how I can help.”
I study him carefully. “Help with what?”
“Catching Kieran.”
My eyes narrow. Trent holds my stare.
“I’m serious, Julian.”
“So am I.”
For the first time since he arrived, I believe him. But before we get into the details of hunting Kieran, I need to know what brought him to my door today of all days.
“What made you come out here today, Trent? Why the sudden urgency?”
He swallows hard, burying his hands deep into his pockets before he forces himself to meet my eyes.
“The last few months... being around Olivia again. It messed with my head.” He shakes his head, his voice cracking.
“What we did back in school. What I did. It was wrong. I can’t sleep, Julian. Every time I look at her, I see the girl we used to corner in the hallways. I was the one leading the charge half the time, pushing you to go along with it because I thought it was a joke.” He drags a hand down his face.
“And a few months back at NexaCore, the things I said to her, they just keep coming back. I look at myself and I don’t even know who that person was.”
He takes a shaky breath.
“I need to apologize to her. Face to face. If she wants nothing to do with me, or if she wants me out of your life, I’ll accept it.”
The sheer weight of his admission hangs between us, until I look at the door. Olivia must have opened it when I listened to Trent. Both of us didn’t hear the door open.
She stands in the doorway.
Her skin is still a little too pale, the faint, fading remnants of the warehouse bruises barely visible anymore. My chest aches with the immediate impulse to step between them, to shield her from his sight.
“Olivia,” I say, my voice dropping into a rough murmur. “I didn’t hear you coming in.”
She doesn’t look at me. Her gaze is locked on Trent.
Trent freezes instantly, the color draining from his face as he looks at the woman he spent two years tormenting.
“Olivia... I didn’t know you were home,” he says.
She steps into the office, her movements slow, deliberate. Her hand rests lightly against her lower abdomen, a gesture so subtle only I catch it, my heart stopping at the reminder of what we are protecting.
“I heard what you said, Trent,” she says, her voice firm, devoid of the fear she carried weeks ago. She walks past him to come and stand next to me.
Trent shuts his eyes, his voice barely a whisper when he opens them.
“I’m sorry. There isn’t an excuse for what I did to you back then.
I was a cruel, arrogant kid, and I used you to make myself feel powerful.
” His voice cracks. “And it didn’t end at St. Clair.
That night in the office, the things I said about your parents, about you and Julian, that wasn’t some kid who didn’t know better.
That was a grown man who knew exactly how to hurt you and did it anyway. I’m so sorry, Olivia. For all of it.”
The silence stretches, heavy and agonizing, as she measures the words against two years of absolute hell.
“I don’t forgive you, Trent,” she says softly, her voice calm but unyielding. “An apology doesn’t wipe away the nights I spent crying, or the way you made me feel like I didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as the rest of you.”
Trent’s shoulders sag. “I know.”
“But,” she continues, “I accept it. I’m tired of carrying this hurt of your cruelty. I’m in Julian’s life now and I forgave him for his part in the bullying. With time, I might forgive you.”
He nods. Relief washes over his features, though the guilt remains etched into his forehead. He turns back to me, his expression hardening as the personal drama clears, leaving the dangerous reality of the present.
“If Kieran sent those masks, he’s making his move. Let me help, Julian. I know the system layout he put into the second-phase servers. How do we catch him?”
I step around the desk, moving until I’m standing between him and Olivia, my arm automatically finding the small of her back to pull her flush against my side.
“You stay at NexaCore. Watch our private networks. If Kieran tries to look into anything regarding my security or Olivia’s files, I want to know instantly.”
“Consider it done,” Trent says, giving Olivia one last respectful nod before exiting the office.
The moment the door clicks, I turn to her, my hands gripping her upper arms, my thumbs rubbing small, anxious circles into the thick knit of her sweater.
I give her a kiss on her forehead.
“Listen to me,” I say, the brutal protectiveness roaring to life in my chest, making my breathing ragged.
“The security detail is doubling tonight. No one comes near this penthouse without my personal clearance. Until Kieran is caught, you’re working from home. I’m not losing you, Olivia. I’m not losing our baby.”
She looks up at me, seeing the fractured control and the absolute, terrifying depth of my panic. Slowly, the resistance leaves her shoulders. She nods, leaning forward until her forehead rests against my chest.
“Okay,” she whispers against my shirt. “Just for now.”
I wrap my arms around her, crushing her against me, closing my eyes against the dark.