Chapter 34
TESSA
My phone suddenly weighs a thousand pounds.
It’s been twenty-four hours since the notification flashed on my screen and made my heart stop. My eyes squeeze shut, but the image is burned into my retinas.
A grainy telephoto shot taken from the clinic parking lot. It captured everything: Ethan’s hand resting intimately on my lower back, Owen leaning in to kiss my temple, and Asher holding my hand.
It was intimate. It was private. And yesterday at 4:00 PM, The Austin Insider plastered it on their homepage under the headline:
STARTUP SECRETS: THE BILLION-DOLLAR HAREM.
It’s been twenty-four hours since the world decided we were freaks.
Twenty-four hours since Ethan threw a whiskey glass at the wall, screaming that he never should have broken protocol in an open lot.
Twenty-four hours since Asher stood in the debris, calculating exactly how ten seconds of reckless joy had compromised our entire perimeter.
Twenty-four hours since Harper walked out of the elevator and took a piece of our hearts with her.
The dust is settling, but the air is still thick with it.
We’re back in the penthouse. It’s become a bunker.
The brothers have formed a perimeter around me that’s practically visible.
Asher is monitoring the real-time sentiment dashboard on the big screen.
Owen is in the kitchen, aggressively juicing kale because Asher decided I need more iron.
Ethan is pacing the study on a call with the legal team, securing a forty-eight-hour injunction against the Board.
Sterling wanted to trigger the Morality Clause today and strip the fifty-million-dollar funding, but Ethan’s lawyers bought us two days. Two days to figure out how to save the company.
But there’s one front we haven’t secured yet.
Mom and Dad.
“You don’t have to do it today,” Owen says, walking over with a glass of green sludge. He sits on the coffee table in front of me, his knees bumping mine. “We can wait. Let the news cycle die down.”
“We can’t wait,” I say, staring at my phone. “If I wait, the neighbors back home will have already convinced them I’ve joined a cult.”
Before I can dial, the intercom buzzes.
It’s a harsh, jarring sound cutting through the quiet of the penthouse. We all stop moving.
Ethan strides out of the study, hanging up his phone. He walks to the wall panel and presses the button. “Yes?”
“Security, Mr. Branson,” the concierge’s voice crackles through the speaker.
He sounds nervous. “I have a Mr. and Mrs. Hartley here. They say they’re Tessa’s parents.
They’re demanding to come up, sir. Mr. Hartley is threatening to call the police for a wellness check if you don’t send the elevator down right now. ”
A wave of nausea hits me.
“Here?” I whisper, the panic spiking. “They live three hours away. They must have driven in the night.”
“A wellness check brings uniforms and press to the lobby,” Ethan says, his voice calm, calculating the variables. He presses the button. “Send them up.”
“Ethan!” I gasp. “We can’t just let them in! Look at this place!”
I gesture frantically around the living room. It screams Billionaire Sex Pad. There’s a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table, Asher’s server blades on the counter, and three men who look like they just finished a war.
“We aren’t hiding anymore,” Ethan says, turning to face me. “We face them together.”
“They don’t want a conversation,” I say, my throat tight. “They want an exorcism. My dad’s going to bring a tire iron.”
“Let him bring it,” Asher says, swiveling his chair around. “If he brings a weapon, we can disarm an older man without hurting him.”
“Do not disarm my father!”
The elevator dings. The doors slide open.
My parents step out. They look completely out of place in the sleek, modern foyer. My mom’s clutching her purse like a shield, wearing her Sunday church cardigan. My dad’s wearing his Town Council blazer, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle twitches visibly beneath his skin.
He spots me instantly.
“Tessa!” he roars. He steps forward, ignoring the three men standing like a wall in front of me. “Get your things. We’re leaving.”
“Dad, wait—”
“I said let’s go!” He points a shaking finger at Ethan. “And you. You keep away from her. ‘Harem’? ‘Shared’? You’re sick. All of you.”
“Mr. Hartley,” Ethan says. His voice is respectful but immovable. “I understand you’re upset. But Tessa isn’t going anywhere. And I’m curious—how did you find this address? It’s unlisted.”
“You think you’re invisible?” my dad spits, reaching into his pocket and whipping out his phone.
He slams the device onto the hallway console, the screen glowing bright in the dim entry.
“It’s the top headline. The Billionaire Brotherhood at The Summit.
You people put your names on a building and act surprised when folks show up? ”
A muscle feathers in Ethan’s jaw. He glances at Asher. “The building is compromised. We’ll need to accelerate the relocation protocols.”
“I will initiate the secure relocation protocols,” Asher confirms, his eyes dark behind his glasses.
“Is that right?” My dad steps into Ethan’s space. He’s three inches shorter than Ethan, but he’s got thirty years of blue-collar rage on his side. “You think because you have money you can buy my daughter? You think you can use her like some kind of toy?”
“We aren’t using her,” Owen says, stepping in on the left. “We love her.”
“Love?” My mom scoffs, tears streaming down her face. “This isn’t love! This is a cult! Tessa, please. Just come home. We can fix this. We can get you help.”
“I don’t need help, Mom,” I say, my voice trembling.
I push past Asher and step into the line of fire. I stand between the men I love and the parents who raised me.
“I’m not brainwashed,” I say. “And I’m not a victim. I’m where I’m meant to be. I chose this.”
“You chose to be passed around?” My dad spits the words out like poison.
“I chose to be loved,” I snap. “By all of them.”
The room goes perfectly still.
My mom’s hand flies to her mouth. My dad goes completely rigid, staring at my stomach. The reality of the blog post is finally connecting in his head.
“The babies,” he whispers, his voice dropping. “Whose are they really?”
“Ours,” Ethan says. He steps up behind me, placing a large, warm hand on my stomach. It’s a claim. A challenge. “The children are ours. And so is she.”
My dad looks at Ethan’s hand. He looks at Owen, who’s standing ready to fight, and Asher, who’s watching everything with terrifying intensity. The wall they’ve built around me is undeniable.
“You hurt her,” my dad says, his voice low and dangerous, “and I won’t sue you. I won’t go to the press. I’ll come back here with my shotgun and I will end you. Do you understand me, son?”
Ethan doesn’t flinch. He nods once. “If we hurt her, you won’t have to. I’ll do it myself.”
My dad stares at him for a long, agonizing minute.
Then, he looks at me. He sees the way I’m leaning into Ethan. He sees the way Owen’s watching me. He sighs, his shoulders slumping. He looks old suddenly.
“You always were stubborn,” he mutters. “Just like your mother.”
“I’m happy, Dad,” I whisper.
He grunts. “You better be.” He turns to my mom. “Come on, Linda. Let’s go. I need a drink. A stiff one.”
“But…” my mom starts.
“She made her choice,” my dad says. He looks at Ethan one last time. “She’s your problem now.”
“She’s our priority,” Ethan corrects.
My dad nods, a sharp, jerky movement. He takes my mom’s arm and leads her back to the elevator. The doors close.
The room exhales.
Owen slumps against the wall. “Jesus. Your dad is terrifying. I thought he was going to hit me.”
“He considered it,” Asher notes. “I saw the muscle twitch in his right deltoid.”
Ethan turns me around, his hands gripping my shoulders. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I breathe, leaning my forehead against his chest. “I think… I think we won.”
“We didn’t just win,” Ethan says, kissing the top of my head. “We secured the perimeter.”
“One down,” I whisper. “One to go.”
The room goes quiet again.
Harper.
She’s been completely unresponsive for twenty-four hours. No texts. No calls. She checked into a hotel downtown—Asher tracked her credit card transaction, despite her request not to—but she hasn’t moved since.
“She hates us,” I whisper.
“She feels stupid,” Owen says quietly. “She feels like the punchline of a joke she didn’t know she was in.”
“We have to fix it,” I say. “I can’t do this without her. I can’t be a mom without my best friend.”
“You won’t have to,” a voice says from the elevator.
We all spin around.
The elevator doors are open. Harper’s standing there.
She looks exhausted. She’s wearing oversized sunglasses and a hoodie, looking like she’s trying to be incognito. She’s carrying a paper bag of takeout food.
“Harper,” I breathe, standing up.
Ethan and Owen stand up too, instinctively, but Harper holds up a hand.
“Sit,” she commands the boys. “I’m not here for you. I’m here for her.”
She walks into the room, tossing her bag onto the kitchen island. She takes off her sunglasses. Her eyes are puffy, but clear. She walks straight up to me.
I brace myself, fully deserving of her anger.
Harper studies my face, my tired eyes, and then looks down at my stomach.
“You’re really doing this?” she asks quietly. “This isn’t just a fling? A quarter-life crisis?”
“It’s my life, Harp,” I say softly. “I love them. I love them so much it scares me.”
Harper looks over my shoulder at her brothers. Ethan’s watching her with a look of desperate hope. Owen looks like a kicked puppy. Asher’s watching her with careful calculation.
“And you guys?” Harper asks them. “Is she just a flavor of the month? Because if you break her heart, I swear to god, being your sister won’t save you.”
“She is the foundation,” Asher says simply. “There is no Mosaic without her.”
“I would bankrupt the company before I let her go,” Ethan says.
“I love her,” Owen says, his voice cracking. “She’s it for me, Harp. She’s it for all of us.”
Harper stares at them, searching their faces. She crosses her arms over her chest, keeping her walls firmly intact.
“I believe you,” she says finally, her voice hard. “But don’t think this fixes everything. I’m still furious. You lied to me for months. You treated me like an outsider in my own family. That doesn’t go away just because you’re letting me yell at you.”
“We know,” Ethan says quietly.
“So you’re all on probation,” Harper declares, pointing a manicured finger at each of them. “Indefinite probation. If you hurt her, or if you lie to me again, I’m gone. And I’m taking the babies with me.”
She turns back to me, her expression softening just a fraction, though the hurt is still visible.
“It’s weird,” she says bluntly. “It’s super, super weird. And the internet is disgusting right now. And Mom is probably having an aneurysm.”
“She disowned me,” Ethan offers helpfully.
“Good,” Harper snaps. “She didn’t deserve you anyway.”
She looks back at me. Her expression finally crumbles.
“You didn’t tell me,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “I was your person, Tess. And you locked me out.”
“I know,” I say, tears spilling over again. “I was so scared you’d judge me. I was scared you’d think I was dirty. Or that I was tearing your family apart.”
“You are my family, you idiot,” Harper cries, stepping forward.
I collapse into her. We hug fiercely, the kind of hug knocking the wind out of you. I bury my face in her hoodie, smelling her familiar perfume, and the last jagged piece of my heart clicks back into place.
“I’m sorry,” I sob into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m still mad,” she says, hugging me tighter. “I’m going to be mad for at least another week. And you owe me so many drinks once you’re not hosting a litter.”
I laugh, pulling back to look at her. “A litter?”
“Twins, Tessa?” Harper shakes her head, wiping her eyes. “You don’t do anything halfway, do you? You couldn’t just have one baby with one brother. You had to have two babies with three brothers.”
“Go big or go home,” Owen says from the couch, grinning tentatively.
Harper shoots him a warning glare, but there’s no real heat in it. She looks down at my stomach. She hesitates.
“So,” she says, her voice dropping. “Twins. That’s a lot.”
“It’s terrifying,” I admit.
“Can I…” She gestures vaguely.
“Yeah,” I say.
Harper reaches out. She places her hand gently on my stomach. She stares at it, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“I’m your Aunt Harper,” she whispers to my belly. “Your mom is crazy. Your dads are weirdos. But I’m the cool one. Remember that.”
She pulls her hand back and clears her throat, instantly shifting back into business mode.
“Okay,” Harper says, clapping her hands and turning to the boys. “Strategic meeting. The internet thinks you’re perverts. Mom hates you. And you have forty-eight hours before Sterling triggers the Morality Clause to strip your Series B funding. What’s the plan?”
“We survive,” Ethan says, letting go of her and pulling me into his side. “We thrive. And we show them love doesn’t follow a rulebook.”
“And we eat this,” Owen adds, grabbing the takeout bag Harper brought. He peers inside. “Vegan deep-dish with cashew cheese?”
“Because dairy makes her bloat,” Harper says, slapping his hand away. “I’m mad at her, but I’m not trying to give her gas. You get the crust.”
I laugh, reaching into the box and pulling out a slice of pizza. I take a bite, the hot cheese burning my tongue.
The forty-eight-hour clock is ticking down, but as I look at Harper arguing with Owen over the crusts, my hands finally stop shaking.