My pulse spikes. “Caden?”
He ends the call slowly. Too slowly. Then he turns toward me fully, expression grim.
“That was my attorney,” he says, scrubbing his palm down his face. “When you left to see your sister, I had my lawyer file to have Priscilla’s guardianship of you revoked. You’re a responsible adult with no scandal, debts, or negative legal implications.”
I don’t breathe.
“The process should have been step one in you getting custody of Anna without having to tie yourself to me.”
“What happened?” I stepped closer.
“Someone filed a formal challenge against my petition.”
My stomach sinks, cold and sharp.
“My aunt…” My world tilts.
He steps closer, fire simmering in his gaze. His voice hardens. “She’s trying to claim you’re mentally unstable,” he says. Caden steps toward me, fire simmering behind his eyes—the kind of fire that warns my aunt has gone too far. “My fear is that she’ll try to use her position at the hospital to accomplish it.”
All because I stepped out of line. The room spins. And I grip the counter to steady myself. But Caden steps forward, catching my arm gently.
“We’re not letting her win,” he says, voice low and solid. “No matter what it takes.” His fingers tighten just slightly around my arm—not possessive, not demanding.
Grounding.
“We face this together,” he says. “Understood?”
I lift my eyes to his.
And in that moment—terrifying and fragile and full of consequences—I know one thing with absolute clarity: I’m already in too deep.
But I nod.
Because I don’t have a choice. “Together,” I whisper.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Because your aunt just declared war.” His jaw sets with fierce determination and I realize, so have we.
And for the first time, I wonder if this fake engagement is becoming something else entirely.
CHAPTER NINE
CADEN
The moment she whispered “together,” the world shifted.
The kind of shift you don’t feel in your bones until the echo hits—quiet, certain, irreversible.
But before I can even process it, before I can let the weight of what she just agreed to settle into my chest, my phone buzzes again.
“West.” I squeeze her hand once before I force myself to step back. “Stay here,” I tell her. “I need to take this.”
Her eyes track me the whole way to the windows, something fragile flickering behind them. I hate that fragility. Hate that her aunt knows exactly how to create it.
“This better be good, Ethan,” I snap in irritation.
“Buddy, you didn’t tell me you planned on going head to head with the Remingtons.”
“Trust me it wasn’t planned.”
