Chapter 31
31
Gage
Love is the sharpest blade I’ve ever known. And right now, it’s pressed hard to my throat. I’ve survived high-stakes deals, blackmail, and betrayal. But one sleepless night without Amelia? I’m on my fucking knees.
I haven’t moved from my goddamn couch all night. The whiskey bottle’s half-empty. And all I can fucking hear are those tears of hers.
Amelia’s not like anyone I’ve ever known. She doesn’t speak louder to be heard. She pulls away. She retreats when it gets too loud in her head. Slips into that quiet space where she can breathe again, where no one’s asking her to explain the storm. And yeah, she spirals. Overthinks. Needs space. But she also fights to stay open, even when it fucking hurts. I’ve seen her fall apart and still show up the next day like she isn’t carrying the weight of the world. She’s scared of needing anyone, but she’s letting herself need me . And I’m the asshole who fucked it all up.
I’ve spent the night thinking about everything she said to me yesterday. The truths she landed at my feet about Shayla. I wasn’t in the frame of mind to hear her yesterday. Not after that fight with Shayla. But fuck, I’ve had hours to turn it all over now, and I can’t help thinking I missed shit in my marriage.
Which is a mindfuck all on its own because it’s my job to see everything, to read people, to anticipate their next move. But I don’t think I saw Shayla. Not if she thinks she wasn’t enough for me. That she was just a crisis to be managed.
Fuck
Shayla and I burned too bright, too fast. We were young and had three years together before Luna came along. Shit was great until the pregnancy. Something changed between us I could never quite put my finger on. And then, after Luna was born, it only got worse.
I worked long hours. Shayla struggled with a baby. I tried like fuck to be there, and I was. But we fought over everything. Nothing I did was right. All I heard was I worked too much, I stopped wanting to take her on dates, I didn’t look at her like I used to. And fuck, I tried. I tried to fix it all. But I see it now—every time I tried to solve a problem, to take her pain away instead of sitting in it with her, I probably made her feel like she was a crisis I had to manage.
Looking back, yeah, I stopped hearing her. Fuck, I did. Because everything she said made me feel like a goddamn failure. And now, here we are, in a fucking shitshow of misunderstandings and a co-parenting relationship that’s hanging on by a fucking thread.
And Amelia saw it before I did. Not just the way I treat Shayla, but the way I default to control when I feel helpless. And in doing that with Shayla, I didn’t give her the space to speak. The space to be heard.
I shower and dress at six. Am in my office at home by seven. Trying to focus on work but only able to focus on Amelia.
Hayden provides me with a distraction when he calls at seven thirty.
“Everything okay?” he asks. “You and Amelia didn’t show for family dinner last night. Liv said you didn’t text.”
I lean back in my chair and reach for the back of my neck. “We had a fight. One of those ones where you don’t know if it’s over, but it sure as hell feels like something cracked.”
He’s quiet for a second. “You want to sit in it or pull it apart?”
“She watched me go toe-to-toe with Shayla and didn’t like what she saw.”
“Did you like what you saw?”
“No.”
“Then you’ve still got a shot.”
“Yeah, I fucking hope so.” I exhale a breath. “Were you just calling about dinner?”
“No. I wanted to run something by you that I’ve just discovered at work.”
“Shoot.”
“Shit started feeling off a few weeks back. A handful of my clients got hit out of nowhere with random scandals, online takedowns, internal leaks. And then right after the damage? They were approached by a crisis capital firm offering strategic investment. To help them recover, rebuild, get back on their feet. At first, I didn’t question it. Looked standard. The firm presented clean. But then it kept happening to more clients. And the timing was too convenient.
“I dug into the contracts. Same language across the board. Same holding company that was legit on paper. In reality, a front. So, I put my guy on it. Had him trace the shell layers. Took a bit, but he followed the trail. It led to Ryan Wakefield.”
Recognition flickers. I’ve heard that name before. “Remind me who he is.”
“Priscilla’s husband.”
Fuck . The woman Hayden crashed and burned over in his twenties. And from what I know, Hayden and Ryan had a falling out last year. “So, we’re talking crisis capital firm, dark money version.”
The kind that doesn’t just buy into crisis—they build it. Engineer the fall so they can own and rebuild.
“Exactly. I got hold of Ryan’s files. The ones that show who hired him to fuck people over. Client records, financials, emails. And guess who shows up on his client list around the time Amelia’s smear campaign kicked off? Her ex-husband.”
My jaw locks so hard it feels like something might snap.
Her fucking ex.
Of course it was him. The smug, controlling bastard who’s been circling like a goddamn vulture.
My hands clench into fists.
He hasn’t just been gaslighting her. He hired someone to drag her name through the dirt. To manipulate the narrative. To humiliate her.
To make her look unfit. Unworthy.
My vision flashes white at the edges.
“He used Ryan’s firm to light the match,” Hayden continues. “Media manipulation, false tips to journalists, influencer targeting. In exchange, Ryan got legal representation. James is handling his legal affairs now.” He pauses. “And Ryan didn’t stop there. He came after you too.”
My blood runs cold.
“Why the fuck would he come after me? To hurt Amelia?”
“That played into it, yeah. For James. But mostly, I think he targeted you because of me.” He lets out a slow, sharp breath, and I feel his anger behind it, like his control is hanging by a thread. “I’m fucking sorry you got caught up in this. Ryan’s been gunning for me since he found out Priscilla and I had a thing. His jealousy runs deep. I think he knows we slept together last year after she left him.”
Jesus .
“You think he came after me to hurt you?”
“Yeah. There’s evidence in the emails that points to that. His team was instructed to seed shit about you and Bradford.”
James.
Ryan.
Both of them playing their games, thinking they’re untouchable.
They didn’t just come for her.
They came for me.
For my company.
For my name.
For my brothers.
And it circled. It breathed.
Because I didn’t know who I was hunting.
But now?
Now I have the fucking name.
And everything inside me goes still.
Not cold. Not quiet. Deadly .
I don’t see red. I see the finish line.
“Put everything you have in the Drive. I want eyes on it today.” Our secure, private drive. Just me and my brothers. Encrypted, untraceable, and locked behind three layers of hell.
“You drop that list, and sure, Ryan goes down. But so do people who trusted you to protect them. You could set your own company on fire.”
“Then I burn it.”
I don’t care who gets hit.
Not anymore.
This isn’t about damage control. This isn’t about strategy.
This is about ending James. Ending Ryan.
Making sure nothing like this ever touches Amelia again.
I’d raze every one of their empires to the ground if it meant keeping her safe.
And I’ll burn my own damn world down in the process.
Without a second fucking thought.
Every contract. Every alliance. Every inch of reputation I’ve built.
None of it means shit if she’s not safe.
This isn’t about business anymore.
This is about her .
Her music. Her name. Her quiet strength that they tried to shatter.
I will tear this world down and build her a kingdom from the fucking ashes.
They hurt the wrong woman.
They made her bleed. I’ll make them disappear.
Amelia arrives just after eight thirty. And when my eyes land on her, I suck in a breath. Her eyes look like they’ve held a thousand sleepless thoughts. Red-rimmed, hollowed out by tears she didn’t bother hiding.
I still.
Not the kind of stillness that comes from peace. The kind that comes before disaster.
The second I see her face, I know.
She’s not here to rage. She’s not here to cry.
She’s already done that.
She’s come here to do something that will split her in half.
So, I take her in.
Every detail. Every line I already know by heart. Carving her into my memory.
The tiny freckle beneath her right brow, the one she covers with makeup most days but missed today.
The faint line beside her mouth— left side, just there—that only shows when she’s holding something in.
Her hair that’s down, but not like she usually wears it. No gloss. No effortless shine.
And her hands—tight around the strap of her purse like she’s holding herself together with it.
I’m nowhere near fucking ready to let her go, but if this is goodbye, I want to remember her like this.
Raw and real and fucking magnificent.
I want to pull her into my arms.
Tell her I’ll fix this.
But I don’t move.
Because this moment isn’t about what I want.
It’s about what she needs to say.
And I won’t take that from her.
“Say what you need to say, Princess. I won’t stop you.”
A broken sound chokes out of her, and the way her eyes hold mine says it all. This isn’t what she wants, it what she needs.
I close the distance between us in two strides and pull her into my arms. She comes without hesitation, her arms wrapping tightly around me.
And fuck me, I’ve never felt so raw.
So fucking desperate to hold her together while she breaks.
So goddamn terrified this is the last time I’ll get to hold her.
I smooth my hand down her hair while she sobs against my chest. I give her all the time she needs. Hell, I’d stand here forever with her like this if she needed me to.
When she finally lets me go, I meet her gaze and wait.
She swallows hard. “I love you, Gage, but I need to heal myself before I can love you the way you deserve.”
Her words knock the breath from my lungs.
“You love like no person I have ever known,” she says as tears stain her beautiful face. “You love like you’ve already decided I’m worth every storm. You respect. You handle with care. You pay attention. You see me. And you never make me feel like I’m too much, even when I don’t know how to hold myself. Love isn’t casual to you. It’s something you show up for. Every single day. And I want to meet you in that kind of love. I do. But first I need to become someone who can stay when it gets loud. Because you deserve someone who never makes you question that she’s staying.”
I don’t speak. I can’t.
My chest’s a warzone. My throat’s dust.
But I bring my hand to her face and brush away one of her tears.
My thumb lingers there, memorizing skin I already know in my bones.
Then I nod. Once.
Because this isn’t mine to stop.
And because she just handed me the most honest, gutting, loving truth I’ve ever been given.
“You come back when you’re ready,” I say quietly. “I’ll be standing right here.”
Her breath hitches.
Not sharp. Not dramatic. It’s just caught.
And the look in her eyes says she wasn’t prepared for how gently I’d let her go.
Her eyes go glassy again, and for a second, she presses her lips together like she’s trying to keep every emotion in.
But one tear falls.
She doesn’t wipe it.
Just lets it slide down her face.
And watching the woman I love—with every part of me I’ve never given anyone else—stand there tearing herself apart for me, fucking guts me.
And then, she says the one thing I wasn’t fucking prepared for.
“I want you to take my collar off.”
Her words slam into me like a blow to the ribs, and I can’t fucking breathe around it.
My lungs seize.
Breath crawls up my throat and dies there.
“This isn’t the end for me,” she says, eyes locked on mine. “I’m asking you to take it off because I know what it means. And I want to come back when I’m ready to wear it the way you deserve.”
In the space between heartbeats, I splinter inside.
That collar was never about control.
It wasn’t about claiming her.
It was about choosing her.
About her choosing me.
Every goddamn day. In every goddamn way.
It was a vow she didn’t have to speak. A trust I didn’t take lightly.
That collar meant she let me in to see the parts that were sacred to her. The parts she gave to no one else to cherish.
Asking me to unfasten it is like asking me to stop breathing.
But I’ll do it.
Because Amelia was never something I was meant to hold so tight she couldn’t breathe.
She’s something I make space for.
And that’s not distance.
That’s devotion.
It’s staying right here, waiting, while she finds her way through the dark.
It’s holding the shape of her in my world, even while she steps out of it.
It’s not letting go.
It’s loving her enough to know she’ll come back when she’s ready.
My hand goes to the chain around my neck—where the key has lived since the night I locked that collar around her throat. Where it’s stayed. Close enough to feel her, even when she’s not with me.
I curl my fingers around it, but I don’t move to unscrew it.
Not yet.
Because unclasping this isn’t just removing metal from skin.
It’s surrendering the one promise I never planned to take back.
She turns.
Quiet. Certain.
And lifts her hair without a word.
That simple gesture fucking ends me.
Not because she’s walking away.
But because she’s still giving me this—this moment of trust.
My hand is steady when it touches her neck.
But everything inside me is not.
I unlock the collar and gently remove it.
It’s just metal.
But it feels like I’m removing a part of myself.
She turns back.
Eyes shining.
And when she steps in, there’s no hesitation.
Her hand rises, curling around the back of my neck like it belongs there.
She presses her lips to mine. Soft. Warm. Full of everything she didn’t say.
And fuck me, this is the reason why I sliced my heart from my chest months ago and handed it to this woman to love and keep safe.
Amelia is wrecked and still, she’s giving herself to me. Making sure I know she’s choosing herself without rejecting me.
She’s saying this hurts, but I want you to feel loved as I go .
I want to remember your mouth, your breath, your stillness .
This isn’t the end of us. It’s the beginning of me.
Maybe space was the thing I never knew how to give before.
But I’m giving it now.
Every fucking inch of it.
And if that’s the thing that brings her back?
Then I’ll hold it until my lungs give out.
When she ends the kiss, I keep hold of her jaw.
“I love you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
And then she’s gone, and I don’t know how I’m still standing when it feels like my chest is nothing but blood.
Late that night, after I’ve gone over every single file Hayden loaded to the Drive, I call Jason.
Throwing the last of the whiskey in my glass down my throat, I say, “Unleash it.”
“All of it?” he asks. He already knows what I mean.
“Everything we’ve got on Ryan. Every dirty client. Every engineered takedown.”
“And James?”
I grit my teeth.
“Most of it. The career killers. The stuff that’ll fuck him six ways to Sunday. The hypocrisy. The sex club memberships he tried to bury.” The same shit he tried to use against Amelia. Turns out Daddy of the Year has his own file full of filth.
Jason’s silent. Waiting.
“Keep the nuclear shit back. I want him crawling before I crush him. I want him to taste what slow ruin feels like. And some of it, we keep for the day he needs a reminder of who I am.”