Chapter Thirteen
Marcy Dane stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the room, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She watched the sleek black town cars navigating the gridlocked streets fifty stories down.
The sheer scale of the wealth surrounding her—the imported silk curtains, the vaulted ceilings, the army of security guards patrolling the subterranean levels—felt less like a luxury and more like a beautifully gilded cage.
Behind her, the door clicked open. Kade Lancaster stepped into the room, carrying two steaming mugs of black coffee. He looked tired, the faint shadows of a sleepless night bruising the skin beneath his eyes, but his gaze softened the moment it landed on her.
"I thought you might want this before we head down to the dining room," Kade murmured, his voice a low, gentle rumble in the quiet suite. He crossed the room, offering her a mug.
Marcy took it, her fingers brushing against his.
The warmth of his skin sent a familiar, aching comfort straight to her heart.
She loved him. She knew that now with unshakeable certainty.
The boy she had mourned had resurrected himself into a man she could truly respect.
But love, she was quickly realizing, could not bridge the chasm of their environments.
"Kade," Marcy began, her voice soft, carrying a sorrowful resignation. "We need to talk."
Kade’s entire body went rigid. The mug in his hand trembled just a fraction.
He recognized that tone. It was the same quiet, devastating tone she had used in the park when she told him they were finished.
"Marcy? What is it? Did someone say something to you?
If one of the staff stepped out of line, I will have them—"
"No," Marcy interrupted gently, reaching out to rest her free hand against his chest, right over his racing heart.
"The staff has been perfectly kind. The security has been flawless.
It isn't them, Kade. It’s this." She gestured to the sprawling penthouse, the city beyond the glass, the invisible weight of the legacy pressing down on them.
"I don't understand," he breathed, the panic beginning to claw at his throat.
"This world... it is wonderful for you. You were born to it.
But it isn't for me," Marcy explained, her dark eyes shining with unshed tears.
She looked up into his stricken face. "I love you.
I do. And I know, with time, I can learn to completely trust you again.
But I cannot breathe here. I cannot live a life of royal treatment, flanked by armored cars, surrounded by private jets and security details.
It suffocates me. I need peace, Kade. And if loving you means I have to surrender that peace to live in this fortress... then we have to go our separate ways."
***
Down the hall, in the sprawling, sunlit kitchen, a nearly identical conversation was shattering the world of Cruz Tate.
Cruz was leaning against the marble island, watching Kinsley Bennet attempt to navigate the ridiculously complicated, twenty-button espresso machine.
She was wearing one of his dark dress shirts, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her wild curls a beautiful, chaotic halo around her head.
He had spent the last twenty minutes just staring at her, overwhelmed by the miracle of her presence in his home.
"I think this machine requires a degree in astrophysics, Cruz," Kinsley huffed, abandoning the espresso maker and turning to face him. Her chaotic energy, however, was subdued. She looked at him, her large, expressive eyes filled with a sad, grounded clarity.
"I can have the chef make you whatever you want," Cruz offered immediately, stepping forward to pull her into his arms.
Kinsley placed her hands flat against his chest, stopping him. "Cruz, we need to be honest with each other. Right now."
Cruz stopped. The easy, devoted warmth in his eyes hardened into a sharp, terrified vigilance. "What’s wrong?"
"I love you," Kinsley said, the words slipping from her lips with a fiercely honest, breathtaking bravery.
Cruz’s breath hitched. It was the first time she had said it since the accident, the first time she had verbally confirmed what his soul already knew. A brilliant, blinding joy flared in his chest, but it was instantly extinguished by the tragic finality in her gaze.
"I love you," she repeated, her voice cracking slightly.
"But I can't stay here. I can't live like this, Cruz. The bowing staff, the secret service agents in the hallways, the constant, suffocating luxury... it’s not me. I’m the girl who trips over her own feet. I’m the girl who likes small cottages and loud bakeries.
I will never belong in Ashford Heights. And if being with you means I have to conform to this world... then this is where we have to end."
Cruz felt as though the floor had simply vanished beneath his feet. The paralyzing terror of losing her—just when he had finally earned the right to stand beside her—gripped his lungs in a vice.
"No," Cruz rasped, shaking his head, his hands coming up to grip her shoulders as if she might evaporate into thin air. "No, Kinsley. Please. You can't say that."
"I have to," Kinsley whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I won't lose myself again, Cruz. Not even for you."
"You won't," Cruz pleaded, his voice breaking, stripped of all pride, all arrogance, leaving only the desperate man beneath.
He pulled her against him, burying his face in her hair.
"I will not lose you. I burned my empire down for you, Kinsley.
Do you think I care about a penthouse? Do you think I care about a private jet? I only care about you."
***
In the other room, Kade was making the exact same desperate plea. He had dropped his coffee mug onto a side table, pulling Marcy into his arms, holding her as if she were his only lifeline.
"Just give me one day," Kade begged, his voice a rough, fractured whisper against her temple.
"Marcy, please. I know this world isn't for you.
I know it isn't. But don't walk away from me.
Give Cruz and me twenty-four hours. Just one more day to figure something out.
If we can't find a compromise that makes you comfortable, I will let you go. I swear it. Just give me one day."
Marcy felt the violent, terrified hammering of Kade’s heart against her chest. She heard the unvarnished devotion in his voice. She closed her eyes, letting her forehead rest against his shoulder, and finally, softly, she nodded.
"One day, Kade."
The next twenty-four hours were a masterclass in billionaire mobilization.
Kade and Cruz did not sleep. They summoned Connor and Leon into the private study, locking the doors, ripping up blueprints, liquidating auxiliary assets, and pulling land deeds from their newly consolidated trusts.
They were men possessed, driven by the singular, terrifying threat of losing the women who held their souls.
The following morning, they asked Marcy and Kinsley to meet them in the living room.
The women sat on the plush velvet sofa, exchanging a cautious, bewildered glance.
Kade and Cruz stood before them, looking exhausted but thrumming with a fierce, electric anticipation.
Connor and Leon stood off to the side, leaning against the grand piano, looking profoundly amused and deeply touched by what their older brothers had spent the night orchestrating.
Cruz stepped forward, holding a large, unrolled architectural blueprint. He spread it out across the glass coffee table in front of the women.
"We are leaving Ashford Heights," Cruz announced, his voice steady and vibrating with certainty.
Kinsley blinked, looking down at the blueprints, then up at Cruz. "What?"
"You said this world isn't for you. You said the staff and the security suffocate you," Kade explained, stepping up beside Cruz. He looked directly at Marcy, his eyes burning with devotion. "So, we are building a new one. We own a stretch of undeveloped, coastal land about forty miles north of Pearlcove. It’s secluded. It’s surrounded by old-growth forest and overlooks the ocean. "
Cruz tapped the center of the blueprint. "We are going to build a Sanctuary. A shared estate. It won't be a gilded cage. It will be a home. We will design it together. You want a garden? We build a garden. You want a library? We build a library."
"And the staff?" Marcy asked, her voice quiet, laced with a cautious, blossoming hope as she looked at the sprawling plans.
"None," Kade stated firmly. "Or exactly as many as you dictate. If you only want a gardener who comes twice a week, that’s all we hire. The security will be strictly perimeter—cameras and sensors tied to a remote hub. No agents in the hallways. No armed guards at the front door. Just us."
Kinsley stared at the intricate drawings.
It was a sprawling structure, designed to exist in harmony with the coastal cliffs, featuring windows, open courtyards, and communal living spaces.
It was an architectural masterpiece of shared living.
They weren't just offering them a house; they were offering to physically construct a world where their blended family could exist in peace.
Marcy looked at Kade, a beautiful, radiant amusement touching her lips. She didn't say much, her heart too full to form the words, but the soft, shining trust returning to her eyes was all the answer Kade needed. He let out a breath he felt he had been holding for two years.
Kinsley, however, traced the layout of the house, her chaotic mind immediately analyzing the logistics. She paused, her brow furrowing as she tapped the edge of the master plan. Her eyes darted from the paper to the two younger brothers leaning against the piano.
"Wait," Kinsley said, a mischievous, deeply affectionate spark returning to her eyes. "Are you two seriously planning to leave the Tweedle-twins behind in this echoing glass museum?"
Cruz blinked, completely thrown off guard. "Leon and Connor?"