Chapter 26 #2
He wasn’t ashamed of the law. He believed in it. The logic was sound.
But yesterday, something had fractured. Not because of the principle, but because of his execution. And that mistake had cost him something harder to quantify: her trust.
When a knock came at the door, he didn’t look up. “It’s open.”
The door pushed inward, and Nate West stepped in, black coat still on. He paused just inside.
“You’re early,” Gage said.
“So are you.”
Nate set a coffee cup on the desk. “You sleep?”
“No.” Gage tipped his chair back a fraction, then forward again, restless in a way he rarely allowed anyone to see.
“Bea?”
“Mm.”
Nate lowered into the chair across from him. “She okay?”
Gage looked past Nate, toward the skyline. The city was beginning to shift, the glass turning from black to silver. “I don’t know.”
Nate sat back. Let the silence stretch. Let him come to it.
“She’s Tier Four.”
“Congratulations.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s not happy about it.”
“You didn’t tell her about the threshold?”
Gage’s jaw tightened. He said nothing.
“You thought she’d leave if you did?”
Gage took a sip of coffee.
Nate studied him. “So what are you going to do?”
That was the question he’d been circling for hours.
He had strategies for nearly everything—investor negotiations, succession optics, legacy maneuvers. But Bea wasn’t a market. She was a woman who’d given him her nights, her body, her time. And he’d taken something from her without fully grasping the weight of it.
Choice.
His fingers stilled on the cup. “She’ll initiate severance,” he said quietly.
Nate’s brows shot up. “You sure you want that on record?”
“I don’t,” Gage said. “But keeping the Tier isn’t worth losing her trust. Not now.”
“With London coming?”
Gage looked out the window. The skyline was turning gold. “Especially with London coming.”
He didn’t add the rest. That he was already moving toward something more permanent. And when that question came, it wouldn’t depend on a system or a statute.
It would be her choice. Entirely.
Bea didn’t expect the knock.
She opened the door in leggings and a St. Ives sweatshirt, hair still damp from her shower. Gage stood on the other side. He held a folder.
She leaned against the doorframe. “You could’ve called.”
“In person is better.”
“Are you here to explain or to persuade?” she asked, eyes narrowing. Because one meant a conversation. The other meant a strategy. And she was not in the mood to be managed.
“I’m here to bring you information.”
She held his gaze a second longer than necessary, then stepped aside.
Gage walked in. Even when she was upset, her body didn’t reject his presence. Which was annoying. So unfair.
He set the folder on her counter. “I should have told you,” he said.
She stayed by the door. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. “Yes. You should have.”
“I didn’t withhold it to manipulate you. But I didn’t want you to walk away from something I already knew we were in.”
“You thought I’d say no.”
He met her eyes. “Possibly.”
“And you didn’t want to risk it.”
“I didn’t.”
Bea closed the door and walked slowly toward the kitchen, every step quiet. He opened the folder.
“It’s a summary of the Proximity Law,” he said.
She’d tried searching UR Tier 4 at midnight, and landed on some forum post from three years ago arguing about asset visibility and break clauses. Laws like this didn’t live on the internet. They lived in folders like the one on her counter.
Curiosity compelled her to pick it up. Start to read.
UNITED REPUBLIC OF WESTHAVEN
Ministry of Social Affairs employer notification.
Tier 4 (7 consecutive - was 10) OR (10 nights - was 12): De facto partner status; all above rights extended until formally disputed.
The document went on to describe each Tier in detail. She skimmed, until she landed on Tier 4.
For her, it meant Gage had first standing in a crisis, first say in a public breach, the authority to shut down anything that came too close.
But then she slowed, reread a line, and then a paragraph. It wasn’t only about her. It bound him too. He couldn’t pursue anyone else. Couldn’t withdraw support. Couldn’t disappear.
It didn’t just grant him access. It held him accountable.
He didn’t speak while she read.
When she finished, she closed the folder. “Thank you.”
He nodded, once. “I didn’t let you choose before, but you still can.” He picked up her laptop from the coffee table. “Log in.”
She did. He guided her through the UR government portal slowly, showing her each step without rushing.
Tier 4 Relationship: KING, G. / CRUZ, B. Active.
Gage moved the cursor over the button:
Initiate Severance Request
Then he stepped aside. “If you want out, this is how.”
Bea moved forward. Looked at the screen. Looked at him. She took a deep breath, and clicked.
This will notify the other party. The request will remain pending for 7 days. If not confirmed, the case will be reviewed by Tribunal.
“Will you accept it?” she asked.
“I’m not going to lie, sweetheart. I want this status between us.”
She didn’t answer.
“But it only matters if you want it, too,” he added. “Submit it. Then give me the week.”
Looking down at the screen, she clicked Submit. “One week.”