CHAPTER ELEVEN JAX #2
"I'm sure she did need support. The question is whether you're the appropriate person to provide it, or whether you're providing it because you want proximity to someone you're attracted to.
" He lets that sit for a moment. "Those motivations create different dynamics.
One is protection. The other is possession disguised as care. "
The accusation hits harder than it should. "I'm not possessing her. I'm helping her survive a hostile legal challenge from her dead husband's brother."
He doesn't respond for a while, then: "Did you tell her yet? About being attracted to her, about how it complicates things?"
My silence answers him.
"Jax." His tone carries disappointment rather than surprise. "We discussed this. You were supposed to have that conversation after the lunch—after you proved you could maintain boundaries under pressure. You proved it. Now follow through."
"I'm planning to. Today, after her attorney meeting—"
"Planning isn't the same as doing. And every hour you delay makes the omission more dishonest." He pauses, lets that sink in.
"You went to her apartment yesterday. Spent over an hour there.
You're going back today. If you keep choosing proximity without giving her full context about your feelings, you're operating from deception. We both know where that leads."
The comparison to Gabriel sits between us, unspoken but clear.
"And if I tell her and she doesn't want personal involvement?" The question comes out more defensive than I intend.
"Then you respect that decision. Transfer her protection to someone else if necessary.
Prove that her agency matters more than your desire for proximity.
" His voice softens fractionally. "But I still don't think she'll reject it.
Everything you've described—the negotiated boundaries, the way she responds to you—none of that suggests she's tolerating your presence. It suggests she's choosing it."
"Choosing surveillance isn't the same as choosing involvement."
"Which is exactly why you need to give her the information to make an informed choice.
" He's moving again, his tone shifting into something that signals the conversation is ending.
"Today, Jax. Have the conversation today.
Directly. No more delays. Because the longer you wait, the more you're replicating Gabriel's pattern—deciding what information she gets to have about the person protecting her. "
The weight of that sits in my chest heavier than before. He's right. Delaying isn't caution anymore. It's control disguised as consideration.
"I'll tell her today," I say. "No deflection."
"Good. Call me after. Let me know how it goes." He pauses. "And Jax? I'm not trying to make this harder. I'm trying to keep you from becoming what you're protecting her from. That only works if you stay honest—with her and with yourself."
We talk for another fifteen minutes—reviewing my assessment of Ezra's threats, discussing Lucien's investigation, confirming our weekly check-in schedule. By the time the call ends, it's 10:31 AM and my phone shows a text from Lana sent three minutes ago.
The meeting with Mira finished. She's optimistic about our position. Can we talk?
I type: Your apartment or somewhere else?
Here is fine. Whenever works for you.
I can be there in twenty minutes.
See you then.
I shower faster than usual, dress in jeans and a sweater that splits the difference between professional and casual, grab my laptop and the notes I've compiled on Ezra's background. If I'm going to her apartment, I need justification beyond wanting to see her.
The walk takes eighteen minutes. I count the blocks, run through what I'm going to say, rehearse the conversation Elias demanded I have. I'm attracted to you. It complicates our professional relationship. Here's how I'm managing those feelings.
The words feel impossible even in rehearsal.
At her building, I climb three flights of stairs that smell like old carpet and cooking from a dozen apartments.
Her door is at the end of the hallway, and I'm aware that the camera I installed in her entrance is probably showing me standing here, that she's watching me approach the same way I've been watching her for weeks.
I knock at 10:49 AM.
She opens the door wearing jeans and a gray sweater, hair down, looking more rested than yesterday but still carrying exhaustion in the tightness around her eyes.
"Hey." She steps aside to let me enter. "Come in."
Her apartment looks the same as yesterday. But the morning light through her windows makes everything feel different. Less like a tactical briefing location and more like someone's actual home.
"How was Mira?" I ask, setting my laptop on her coffee table, maintaining the professional framing even though Elias's instructions are circling in my head.
"Fierce and strategic. Exactly what I needed.
" Lana settles onto the couch, pulls her knees up in that protective position I've learned to recognize.
"She reviewed the recording from yesterday.
Said Ezra's threats are explicit enough to establish malicious intent.
That if he proceeds with formal challenges, we can demonstrate this isn't about justice—it's about control and money. "
"That's good. Strong legal positioning." I sit on the opposite end of the couch, the same careful distance we've maintained through multiple conversations. "Did she give you a timeline?"
"Ezra has until next Thursday to decide whether he's filing formal proceedings.
Mira's preparing our response either way—settlement rejection or full legal defense.
" She wraps her arms around her knees. "She also said I should prepare for discovery if this goes to court.
That my therapy records will likely get subpoenaed.
My phone records. Financial transactions. Everything."
"Everything Gabriel did to you will get examined too. The surveillance, the control, the abuse. That works in your favor."
"Or it makes me look like an unreliable narrator.
A traumatized widow rewriting history to justify inheriting her husband's fortune.
" Her voice is steady, but I can hear the fear underneath.
"Mira was honest about that possibility.
That juries sometimes don't believe women who stayed in abusive marriages.
Who didn't leave until their husbands were dead. "
The system's failure to protect survivors isn't news, but hearing Lana voice that specific fear makes anger pulse through my chest. "Then we make sure the evidence is overwhelming.
The recording from yesterday. Testimony from people who witnessed Gabriel's behavior.
Documentation of his monitoring and control. "
"Solange offered to testify. Said she'd describe what she saw during our marriage." Lana looks at me directly. "Would you?"
The question catches me off guard. "Testify?"
"You've been watching me for weeks. You've seen how I move through the world, how I respond to threats, whether I'm actually unstable or just appropriately traumatized." She holds my gaze. "Would you testify to that? To what you've observed?"
Professional protocol says I should refuse. Surveillance evidence gathered without court authorization isn't admissible, and admitting to monitoring her phone and installing cameras in her apartment would expose Lucien's operation to scrutiny neither of us can afford.
But Lana isn't asking about legal admissibility. She's asking whether I'd stand up in court and defend her if necessary.
"Yes." The answer comes without calculation.
"I'd testify. Maybe not about specific surveillance methods, but about my professional assessment of your stability, your trauma responses, your capability.
If they're going to question whether you're fit to inherit Gabriel's estate, I'll provide an expert opinion that you're not just fit—you're functioning at a level most people couldn't manage under similar circumstances. "
Something shifts in her expression. Relief, maybe. Or recognition that I'm willing to risk professional exposure to protect her.
"Thank you." She unfolds slightly, relaxing the protective position by increments. "Mira said character witnesses would be important. That showing I'm rebuilding my life rather than falling apart strengthens our position."
"The foundation helps with that. Turning Gabriel's money into freedom for other survivors—that's evidence of purpose, not instability."
"Ezra's investigators will probably argue it's guilt money. That I rushed into starting the foundation to assuage conscience over killing Gabriel."
"Let them argue it. The foundation exists.
It's helping people. Whatever motivated you to start it matters less than what it's actually doing.
" I lean forward slightly, closing the distance between us by inches rather than feet.
"You're allowed to build something good from something terrible.
That's not guilt—that's transformation."
She studies me for a long moment, and I can see her processing whether to believe that framing or whether to default to the self-condemnation Gabriel trained into her.
"Elias called me this morning," I say, shifting topics before the weight of her gratitude becomes uncomfortable. "He wanted to debrief yesterday. Make sure I'd maintained appropriate boundaries."
Her eyebrows rise slightly. "Boundaries?"
"He gave me specific rules before the lunch.
Parameters for how to observe without intervening.
" I lean back slightly; aware I'm revealing something I probably should have mentioned earlier.
"I haven't told you this part yet, but when I asked Elias to have veto power over my protection of you—to be able to tell me when I'm crossing lines—he took that seriously.
He gave me a list of rules for yesterday specifically. "
"What kind of rules?"