31. Harper
HARPER
The interview found me before I went looking for it. I was halfway through reviewing grant proposals in my father's office when Emily Bennett sent me a message.
Emily:
Don't watch it.
Thirty seconds later another appeared.
Actually... maybe watch it.
I smiled despite myself.
Should I ask how you got my number or tell you how very helpful you are right now.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
I'm trying my best.
Then another.
Theo says Elliot has officially lost his mind.
That made me pause.
In what way?
Her response took longer this time.
The good kind.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared .
The Happily Ever After kind.
I stared at the message for a long moment before locking my phone and setting it face down on the desk. I wasn't sure such a thing existed.
I waited until that evening. The townhouse was quiet; my father was still at the foundation finishing meetings that had run hours longer than planned, and I had changed into leggings and one of his old university sweatshirts that swallowed me whole.
The city glittered beyond my office window.
I opened my laptop. The interview was everywhere.
Every network, social platform was circulating a clip of his interview at the entrance of the foundation.
I chose the full version. Because if I were going to hurt myself, I might as well commit.
The video started; I was being jostled, surrounded by security and all the reporters who had gathered outside the foundation.
I had barely been in the office when security decided it was safer for everyone if I worked from the townhouse.
Then Elliot showed up seemingly out of nowhere and stepped into the frame.
I braced myself for the polished smile and practiced answers.
For the version of Elliot Vale that could charm a room while saying absolutely nothing.
Instead… He looked tired. Like someone who hadn't slept properly in weeks.
I knew that look. I was wearing it myself.
The questions started immediately.
Did you know?
Was it strategic?
Did she pursue you?
Did you pursue her?
Was it real?
I had heard pieces of it before security hurried me into the SUV. But it was fragmented, and I was trying my best to keep my panic at bay and stay strong. What I hadn't heard was everything in between.
Every moment Elliot could have chosen himself, but didn't.
"I pursued her."
The words settled heavily inside me.
"I hurt her."
My throat tightened. I paused the video and stared at the frozen image of him.
I took a deep breath and then hit play again from the beginning.
When the reporter suggested I had attended events with him because I wanted access to Northwell, I watched something change in his face.
Like he'd suddenly realized just how ugly people could be.
Then came the part that finally undid me.
"If you want someone to criticize..." He paused. "...criticize me." I blinked hard, as I watched and listened with every part of me. "If you want a villain..." Another pause. "Use my name."
I hadn't expected that. Not because Elliot wasn't capable of taking responsibility.
Because the Elliot I had known would have spun the story in his favour, deflected so the damage landed somewhere else, and he never would have put himself in a position where it could cost him something.
This… this had the potential to cost him everything.
The interview ended. The suggested videos beneath it were already speculating about Northwell's losses. I clicked on one, and the financial analyst spoke excitedly.
"Northwell stock has dropped nearly six percent since Mr. Vale's statement this morning..."
I closed the laptop and rested my forehead against my folded arms.
My chest ached because this wasn't fair. None of it. It would have been so much easier if he'd stayed exactly the man I'd left.
The days that followed settled into a strange rhythm.
Every morning there were more articles. Some defending me, or defending him, some insisting the relationship had been fabricated, and others insisting we'd secretly become engaged.
Apparently, anonymous internet strangers knew far more about my love life than I did.
I stopped reading them, mostly. Instead, I worked.
I threw myself into everything that I wanted to be a part of, the reason for me stepping up beside my father.
Foundation meetings, grant proposals, budget reviews, and community partnerships.
Every day I stood beside my father. Every day he treated me less like someone he needed to protect and more like someone preparing to lead.
It felt… Good. Purposeful. Real. I focused on that and tried to block out all the unnecessary noise, which is easier said than done.
Then I started noticing something else. Northwell started to show up. Not officially. There were no announcements, partnerships, or press releases. Just… Them.
The first time it happened, Theo appeared with coffee and pastries.
"I come bearing emotional support treats."
Everyone in the office laughed, even my father. Theo stayed twenty minutes, talked absolute nonsense, made three employees blush, and then disappeared.
Two days later, Rowan showed up. He spent an hour with our security director, quietly discussing crowd management for upcoming public events. Before leaving, he found me in the hallway.
"Are you doing okay?"
I nodded. "I'm surviving."
He smiled, which I don’t think I had ever seen before. "I figured."
That was all. No questions or mention of Elliot.
Then Caleb. He arrived for what appeared to be a meeting with my father. When he left, he passed me outside his office. We stopped, and neither of us spoke for a moment.
Finally, I smiled, saying, "You've been avoiding me."
His mouth twitched. "I've been respecting you."
Those words stayed with me for the rest of the day.
And somehow they managed to be photographed outside the foundation offices, and when they weren’t showing up for me here, they were making noise somewhere else, almost as if they were showing support and drawing attention elsewhere all at the same time.
A week later, I left the foundation just after lunch. The crowd outside had become closer to normal; that was perhaps the strangest part. You could get used to almost anything.
The doors opened, and security formed around me.
Questions started immediately.
"Miss Montgomery!"
"Harper!"
"Any comment on Mr. Vale?"
"Are you back together?"
"What does your father think of the relationship?"
"Do you think your mom would approve of you dating a playboy?"
I kept walking. One foot, then another. Don't look.
Don't stop. One guard opened a path toward the waiting SUV.
Almost there. Someone pushed forward. A cameraman, trying to get around another reporter.
He stepped backward without looking, straight into my path.
I instinctively moved sideways, and my heel caught the edge of the curb.
For one second, there was nothing beneath my foot. The world tilted. Then…
A hand closed around my wrist, another around my waist. Strong and certain. I collided with a solid chest, and everything stopped. For one impossible heartbeat, I forgot where I was. Forgot the shouting and flashing lights. All I could hear was the steady rhythm beneath my cheek.
His heartbeat.
"Elliot..." The name escaped before I could stop it.
His grip tightened just enough to steady me.
"I have you." His voice was low and calm. Nothing like the surrounding noise.
Then, almost immediately, he let me go. Just enough to make sure I was standing on my own feet, and he stepped in front of me instead. Between me and the cameras. His body became a wall.
"Back up."
The words carried, and security moved instantly. The cameraman started to apologize. Elliot didn't even look at him. His attention remained on the crowd. Making sure no one else got close.
Only when security had the door to my SUV opened and a clear path for us did Elliot glance over his shoulder. Our eyes met. For the first time since everything fell apart, there was no anger between us. No pleading or expectations. Just… Relief.
He pulled me in front of him so his back was to the press, and we had a wall of security around us.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
I nodded. "I am now."
His eyes closed briefly. Like the answer had loosened something inside him. Then he smiled. It was small, almost sad.
“Thank…”
Elliot shook his head, cutting me off, saying, "You don't have to thank me. I should have protected you a long time ago."
The honesty of it stole every prepared response I'd ever imagined.
Before I could say anything, one of my guards gently touched my elbow.
"Miss Montgomery."
Elliot stepped aside immediately, giving me space. Never once reaching for me again. I climbed into the SUV; the door closed. As we pulled away, I looked back through the window.
Elliot was still standing on the sidewalk; reporters had turned toward him again. He simply waited until my car disappeared into the traffic.
I leaned back against the seat. My fingers unconsciously drifted to the place on my wrist where he'd caught me. It should have reminded me of all the reasons I shouldn’t want him.
But it didn’t. It reminded me of something I'd almost forgotten.
For the first time in a very long time… I had felt safe.