Chapter 4
JADE
The crimson light of the liquor store sign cuts through the bent blinds every three seconds, casting harsh lines across the stained carpet.
I sit on the narrow windowsill of the City Hub Inn, knees tucked to my chest, watching the New York rain lash against the grimy glass.
The walls here are thin as cardboard; I can hear the neighbor’s TV murmuring, and the tiny fridge compressor rattles in a metallic rhythm that drills into my temples.
It is the exact opposite of the silent, padded luxury of Cayden Miller’s suite.
Behind me, Parker breathes steadily in the room's only bed. He’s pulled the scratchy synthetic blanket up to his chin, one foot hanging over the edge of the sagging mattress. It’s an unconscious, almost arrogant sleeping pose—a genetic copy of the man who sat across from me this morning.
Our reality is piled on the floor: Parker’s backpack with frayed Marvel patches and my old trolley with the jammed zipper. Yesterday, we were crammed into the last row of an economy flight. Tomorrow, Cayden will pull us into a world where legroom isn't a question of money, but a basic right.
My phone vibrates. Hailey’s name lights up. I inhale the stale air and swipe the screen.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Jade!” Hailey’s voice is bright with energy. “How’s New York? Did Collins give you an expense account, or are you eating gas station sandwiches again?”
I look at the paper bag of stale bagels on the desk. “I’m not starving, but room service at The Pierre would blow my entire budget.”
“The Pierre?” Hailey whistles. “Is my brother staying there?”
“The presidential suite. Of course.”
“Fitting.” I hear the clink of ceramic. Hailey is in her kitchen in Montreal, likely unloading the dishwasher. A real life. “How was the interview?”
I hesitate. “There’s a change of plan, Hails. Collins expanded the assignment. I’m not just writing a profile. I’m shadowing him.”
“Shadowing?”
“Thirty days. Exclusive access. I’m his shadow from now on.”
A loud crash echoes through the line, like a dropped cup. “Thirty days? With Cayden? You’re coming back to Montreal... with him?”
“We fly tomorrow morning. In his jet.”
“His jet?” she repeats, her voice a mix of disbelief and worry.
“I have no choice. If I refuse, Collins fires me. And you know what my dad’s care home costs.”
Hailey sighs. “Oh, Jade. I wish I could help you out. But with the twins and the mortgage...”
“I don’t want your money, Hailey. I just want to survive this job.”
“How was he with you?” she asks softly.
“He questioned me,” I reply. “Wanted to know if I was married. Who Parker’s father is.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“That he’s not part of our lives. That he’s gone forever.”
“Good,” Hailey says firmly. “It’s none of Cayden’s business what happened in Toronto. He wouldn’t understand anyway. Sleeping with a backpacker—out of pure passion—that doesn't fit into his spreadsheets.”
I swallow hard against the tightness in my throat. The backpacker. The ghost I created eleven years ago to explain why I was pregnant and why the father would never show up.
“He would only judge,” Hailey continues, unaware of how deep she’s twisting the knife. “You know how he works. To Cayden, unplanned children are just calculation errors. He’d probably lecture you about a one-night stand instead of seeing what a wonderful boy Parker is.”
I ball my fist until my nails dig into my palm. He wouldn’t judge me, Hailey. He would hate himself.
“I’ll never bring it up with him,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Better that way. Cayden isn't a family man. He’s isolated himself from Mom and Dad.”
Silence follows, underscored only by the distant wail of a siren on 8th Avenue.
“You’ll handle it, Jade. Thirty days isn't a life sentence. My brother can be an ass, but deep down, he has a heart.”
“You’re right, Hails. I’ll just focus on the work.”
I force myself to sound convinced. But the thought of tomorrow feels like a noose. Tomorrow, I’ll sink into soft leather and look into the eyes of a man who could destroy my entire existence with a single realization.