18. Marcus
MARCUS
Istill hear it, the grandfather clock. But it doesn’t gnaw at me the way it used to. I sleep more than I ever have—still not much, but enough. Enough that the ticking doesn’t feel like taunting.
I stretch, muscles aching from yesterday’s workout, but there’s a strange lightness in my chest. The boys wear me out, but it’s the kind of exhaustion that feels good, feels honest.
Who knew sticky-handed chaos goblins could be so… grounding?
I push off the bed, bare feet meeting the cold floor with familiarity. A cold shower waits—there’s no lingering in hot water, no comfort in steam.
But lately, I’ve let it warm just a little. A concession I didn’t notice I’d made. A crack in the armor.
As the water shocks me awake, I can’t ignore the peace settling into my bones. My brain, however hasn’t accepted my new reality yet.
This isn’t me. It can’t be.
Yet here I am, almost looking forward to whatever madness the morning brings.
When I step out, the sound of laughter echoes down the hall. The twins, no doubt, chasing each other like feral animals. Avery’s humming floats from the kitchen, light and sweet, as familiar now as the ticking clock.
This routine—this quiet, messy, domestic chaos—it’s becoming normal. But I don’t have time to dwell on it. Because then, I hear it.
A scream.
Not the boys. Not Avery.
Victoria?
Oh yeah, she’s taking mom to the doctor this morning.
Panic surges through me. I don’t think—I run.
Her voice is broken when I reach the doorway to my mother’s suite.
“She’s gone.”
No.
My mother lies still, too still, her chest unmoving beneath the knitted blanket. The phone trembles in Victoria’s hand, tears streaming down her face.
“She was fine,” I whisper, frozen in place. “She was?—”
No. No, she wasn’t.
And I ignored it.
I should have done more. I should have seen it coming. I should have…
The funeral is a blur.
Muted voices. Distant sobs. A sea of black.
Too fast. Too final.
I stand there, still and silent, the world spinning around me. While Victoria’s shoulders shake beside me, Avery holds the boys close, whispering soft words I can’t hear.
I don’t hear anything.
Don’t feel anything.
Can’t.
Because feeling means breaking.
And I can’t afford to break.
So I do what I know, what I’ve always done.
I shut down.
The days pass, indistinct and hollow. Mornings are too quiet without my mother’s faint cough or her jazz music drifting softly through the hall. Even the boys’ laughter feels distant. Muted. Like it belongs to someone else’s life.
Not mine.
I drown myself in work. Early meetings. Late nights. Projects that don’t need my attention but get it anyway.
Anything to avoid going home.
Because home isn’t home anymore.
I barely see Avery. When I do, it’s brief. A nod. A clipped response. Distance carved into every interaction.
She watches me. I feel her concern in every glance. Every quiet attempt to reach me.
But I don’t let her.
I can’t.
Until one night, she finds me in my office. Late.
“Marcus.” Her voice is soft, careful. Like she knows I’ll shatter if she’s not.
I don’t look up.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” she whispers.
Something inside me twists. Fractures. But I force it down, swallowing hard.
“Yes, I do.”
Her breath catches. “Marcus, please?—”
I meet her eyes, cold and sharp. My armor back in place.
“I’ve always done this alone,” I bite out.
Her face falls. Just for a second. But I see it.
And I hate myself for it.
She nods once, tight and resigned. Then leaves without another word.
The door closes behind her.
The silence louder than ever.
Victoria doesn’t knock.
She never does, but this time, the door slams open so hard it rattles on its hinges. She storms into my office like a hurricane, dark hair wild around her face, eyes blazing.
I barely glance up from my laptop. I expected this.
Her hands slap down onto my desk, hard enough to jostle the papers I’ve been pretending to read. “You absolute, world-class jackass.”
I sigh. Rub the back of my neck. “I’m busy, Vic.”
“Oh, no. You don’t get to pull that shit with me.” She leans forward, voice low and seething. “You’re pushing her away. You’re pushing all of us away. And for what?”
“It’s better this way.”
The words leave my mouth automatically. Flat. Unbothered.
Victoria laughs, but it’s sharp and bitter. “God, you sound exactly like Dad.”
I stiffen.
Her eyes narrow. She knows she hit the target. And she’s not done.
“You think shutting down makes you strong? That pushing away the people who love you keeps you safe?” Her voice rises, fierce and unrelenting. “It doesn’t, Marcus. It just makes you a coward.”
I clench my jaw so tightly it aches. “You don’t understand.”
“Don’t I?” She steps back, arms crossed. “I grew up in that house too, remember? I watched him shut you out every time you tried to get close. Every time you just wanted him to say he was proud of you.”
I breathe through the sharp stab in my chest. “This isn’t about him.”
“Isn’t it?” Victoria snaps. “You’re doing exactly what he did: acting like feeling nothing makes you untouchable.”
My hands curl into fists on the desk. “It’s not that simple.”
She scoffs. “It is exactly that simple. You’re hurting, Marcus.
I get it. I do. But instead of letting anyone help you, you’ve locked yourself in this fucking glass tower again, convincing yourself that it’s ‘better this way.’” She throws my own words back at me with venom.
“You’re not protecting anyone. You’re just running scared. ”
“I’m not—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Bullshit.”
Her voice cracks, and for the first time, I see the hurt beneath the fury.
“You don’t get to shut me out,” she whispers harshly. “You don’t get to shut them out. Avery waited for you, Marcus. She gave you time. She gave you space. She let you grieve. But even Avery has a breaking point.”
I inhale sharply. Because I know what she’s saying.
“She’s leaving, isn’t she?” My voice is quiet. Rough.
Victoria’s lips press together. She doesn’t have to answer.
I already know.
“I can’t be what she needs,” I admit, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how.”
Victoria’s face softens, just slightly. “Yes, you do. You’ve already done it. She didn’t fall for Marcus Greyson, the untouchable CEO. She fell for the man who makes dinosaur-shaped pancakes at 6 a.m. The man who catches her kids before they fall and remembers her coffee order without asking.”
I shake my head, throat tight. “That’s not enough.”
“Why not?” she challenges. “Because it feels too real?”
“Yes,” I snap, the truth finally breaking free. “Because if I let her in—really let her in—I won’t survive if she leaves.”
Victoria’s eyes soften, and she exhales slowly. “She’s not Mom.”
“What?”
“She’s not Mom,” she repeats gently. “You lost Mom suddenly, Marcus. And it wrecked you. I get it. But Avery isn’t going anywhere.”
My chest constricts painfully. “You don’t know that.”
“No, you’re right. Anything could happen anytime, to any of us,” she admits. “But if you keep pushing her away, you’ll never find out.”
I lean back in my chair, rubbing my hands over my face. I’m exhausted. Hollowed out. “I don’t know how to let her in, Vic.”
She steps around the desk, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Then figure it out. Because if you don’t, you’re going to lose the best thing that ever happened to you.”
I close my eyes, her words echoing in my head.
Avery’s packing.
Her movements are slow, deliberate. Folding clothes like she isn’t tearing me apart piece by piece. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say a word.
The twins are asleep. Oblivious. Blissfully unaware that everything is falling apart.
She’s leaving them here for tonight. She’ll come back tomorrow for their things. And for them.
I stand in the doorway, frozen. I should stop her.
But I don’t.
“I wanted to stay,” she says softly, finally turning to face me. Her eyes aren’t angry. Just... tired. Tired in a way that makes my chest feel like it’s caving in. “But there’s no point now. No one to pretend for anymore.”
I swallow hard. My throat feels like sandpaper. I want to say something—anything—but the words won’t come.
Because this is it.
This is what I deserve.
She exhales, shoulders dropping, like she’s accepted something I haven’t. She takes off the engagement ring, places it on the nightstand and nods, more to herself than to me.
“Goodbye, Marcus.”
The words slice through me, sharp and unforgiving. And then she’s gone.
I don’t move. Don’t chase after her. Don’t beg her to stay.
I let her go, because I don’t deserve her.
This is what I do. I ruin things. I ruin everything.
The sound of the front door closing echoes through the empty apartment. My chest feels hollow, a gaping void where something important used to be.
I rake a hand through my hair, pacing the length of the room, trying to hold myself together. But the silence is deafening. The absence of her is deafening.
I wanted to keep her at a distance. To protect myself.
But all I’ve done is destroy the one thing that mattered.
I let her go.
This is rock bottom. And God help me, I don’t know how to climb out.