Chapter 7
JADE
Today
My knuckles are white from gripping the handle of my trolley. The private terminal at La Guardia smells like freshly roasted espresso, heavy leather, and an arrogance that clings to my skin like an invisible film.
There are no long lines here, no exhausted families, no security checkpoints where you have to scramble to take off your shoes.
The acoustics are just muffled voices and the soft click of designer shoes on marble.
The oxygen in this hall seems to belong exclusively to men used to shaping the world to their whim.
Parker, beside me, is a vibration. His gaze bounces like a pinball from the flawless machines out on the tarmac to the overloaded luxury buffet in the lounge.
“Mom, did you see that? They have free chocolate bars here. Real ones!” he whispers in awe, as if he’s discovered a hidden temple.
“Behave, Parker,” I murmur, but my attention is fixed on the automatic glass doors.
The wings slide open silently, and Cayden Miller enters. He wears a dark cashmere coat casually over his broad shoulders, moving with a natural authority that tolerates no argument. Chloe flanks him like a silent shadow, tablet in hand, her face a professional mask.
Cayden heads straight for us and stops. He takes off his sunglasses. His gaze brushes over my scuffed suitcase, lingers a painful second too long on my tired face, and finally drops down to Parker.
“Ready for takeoff, kid?” he asks.
“You bet!” Parker blurs out. “Is that yours out there? The one with the Royals logo on the tail?”
“That’s the one.” Cayden’s expression doesn't change, but for a split second, something like genuine pride flashes in his eyes.
Then he turns to his assistant. “You stay here and settle the outstanding details with Hayes. I want the signed documents on my desk in Montreal when I walk in tomorrow morning.”
“Of course, Cayden,” Chloe replies. She shoots me a look that makes it clear she’d love to personally escort me off the tarmac. “I’ll take the commercial flight tonight.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
The interior of the jet has nothing to do with a normal plane. It’s a flying living room made of cream leather, heavy wood panels, and a carpet so thick my cheap heels nearly sink into it. Parker stands mouth agape, staring at the massive, swiveling chairs.
“Sit wherever you want, Parker,” Cayden says casually, dropping into a seat in the back. He unbuttons the top of his shirt and loosens his tie with one fluid motion. “Jade, what’s wrong? You look like you’re waiting for me to open the emergency hatch and drop you over the Atlantic.”
“I’m just not a fan of unnecessary luxury,” I counter, choosing the seat exactly opposite him. I hold my bag on my knees like a physical shield.
“Unnecessary?” A dark, humorless laugh escapes him. “It maximizes returns. It saves time, and time is the only currency even I don't have in excess.”
The engines roar to life with a deep, powerful hum. We taxi, the jet lifts, and within minutes, we pierce the low-hanging cloud cover.
“Mr. Miller?” Parker blurts out, curiosity winning over his initial restraint. “Can I see the pilots?”
Cayden looks up from his phone. He studies my son for a long, silent second. “You want to go into the cockpit?”
Parker nods vigorously.
Cayden wordlessly presses a button on the side wall. A flight attendant appears instantly. “Take the boy forward. Tell the pilots to explain the instruments to him.”
“Seriously? Thanks!” Parker shouts, jumping up, throwing me a beaming look before disappearing behind the heavy curtain.
Only the quiet hum of the air conditioning bridges the distance between us. Cayden leans back slowly, crossing his arms, fixing me with a gaze that pins me to the seat.
“How is Hailey?” he asks abruptly. Small-talk mode is on, but from his mouth, it feels like the start of an interrogation.
“She’s fine,” I answer shortly, trying to suppress the defensive edge in my voice.
“Good to hear.” He says the words as if reading a weather report. “I haven't talked to her in months. She tends to get exhausting once she starts lecturing me on family obligations.”
A hot, uncontrollable burn spreads in my gut. “She’s your sister, Cayden. But you’re not big on family anymore, are you? Once something doesn't yield a return or costs time, it gets cut.”
He raises an eyebrow. “So you haven't just changed your look, Jade. You’ve grown a remarkably sharp tongue. Who taught you to sound so morally superior?”
“Nobody had to teach me. I just see the contrast. Your parents gave up almost everything in Thunder Bay so you could go to that academy. They worked endless overtime and skipped vacations just so the golden boy could have his career. And today? Today you treat them like annoying beggars you quiet down with an anonymous check at Christmas. You’re deeply ungrateful. ”
He slams his phone onto the wooden table. The movement is so abrupt I flinch. His eyes flash; the cool blue replaced by a dark, dangerous intensity.
“You don't have the slightest clue what you’re talking about,” he growls.
“You’re looking at this from the cozy perspective of a provincial girl who thinks the world is a well-tempered petting zoo.
I’ve been a superstar since I was eighteen.
I carried endorsement deals on my shoulders worth more than the GDP of small nations.
Today, I run an empire. There’s no room for nostalgic coffee dates. ”
“And that justifies erasing the people who paved the way for you?”
“It justifies reality!” he snaps, leaning forward until his face is inches from mine.
“In my world, there are no breaks. If I stop for even a second, sharks like Hayes eat me alive. I owe no one anything, Jade. I paid my price long ago. Every broken bone, every sleepless night, every moment I had to smile for the cameras.”
“Oh, the poor, pitiable billionaire,” I mock, though my heart is racing. “Crying in his private jet because he has to work so hard. It’s pathetic how you hide behind your bank account.”
“Pathetic?” A sharp sound escapes him. “Pathetic is living in a run-down two-star hotel and giving moral sermons while taking a job you supposedly despise just to scrape the rent together.”
“I’m doing it for Parker!” I throw back at him. “Something you’ll never understand. Taking responsibility for someone without expecting a kickback.”
“Responsibility?” He snorts. “Speaking of responsibility. What about his father? Where’s the guy who takes so much responsibility? Oh, I forgot. He’s ‘not part of your lives’. Probably ran for the hills as soon as you started lecturing him on his ingratitude.”
The blood rushes in my ears. The provocation digs deeper than he can imagine. “He was at least honest enough not to play-act a fake life. He’s not a hollow playboy ending up in gossip columns with a different celebrity every week just to pump up his ego.”
Cayden freezes. Every muscle in his face stills. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. Your affairs are legendary, Cayden. Actresses, models, pop stars. You collect them like trophies. Is that your miserable substitute for a real family? Validation from women who only want your name and your credit card?”
He stares at me, the silence in the cabin becoming deafening. His jaw works; a muscle in his cheek twitches. Then he leans in further, until I can feel the heat of his breath.
“Are you jealous, Jade?” he asks quietly. The anger is gone, transformed into something darker, more intimate. “Is that what this is about? That my name is in the columns and not yours?”
“I… that’s ridiculous,” I stammer, trying to push back into the upholstery, but the chair offers no escape.
“Is it?” His gaze drops to my mouth, then crawls back to my eyes.
“You’ve stayed silent about that one night in Montreal for eleven years.
And now you show up as if nothing happened, playing the untouchable judge of my life.
Do you want to punish me because I kept moving?
Because I’m not the man you met in that hotel room? ”
“You have no idea who you even were back then,” I whisper, a mix of rage and despair rising in me. “You were someone who could feel. Today, you’re just a cold machine.”
“Then feel this,” he growls.
His fingers close hard around my wrist. The heat of his skin burns through the fabric of my blouse. He pulls me an inch closer, and for a fraction of a second, I’m sure he’s going to kiss me—or choke me. The physical tension is so massive the walls should implode.
“Mom! Look! The pilot says we’re crossing the border!”
Parker’s voice tears us apart like a grenade. Cayden lets go and snaps back into his seat with inhuman speed. He grabs his phone as if he’d never stopped working. I take several deep breaths, smoothing my hair, trying to hide my shaking hands from Parker.
My son storms in, cheeks glowing. “And he even showed me how to check the autopilot!”
“That’s nice, Parker,” I manage to choke out. My throat feels like I’ve swallowed glass.
Cayden doesn't look up. “Sit down, kid. We’re descending.”
His voice is controlled. The mask is back.
I turn my head and stare out at the thick clouds.
Montreal’s gray outline appears below—a web of memories and lies.
Hailey was right. Cayden is like the ice on a lake.
A safe surface, with an abyss lurking right beneath.
This month isn't an assignment. It’s a fight for survival.