His face is still so calm, so unbothered.
“They revoked my offer,” I whisper. “After I’d already accepted… We even already agreed on a start date.” A tear slips free, hot against my skin. “Nathaniel… I’ve worked so hard. I did everything right. I don’t understand how this is happening.”
“Oh baby,” he murmurs, pulling me into his arms before the next sob rises. I fold into him automatically, my forehead pressed against his chest as he strokes the back of my head with slow, soothing motions.
“Everything will be okay,” he tells me, tone soft. “You don’t need to panic.” His fingers glide through my hair with practiced gentleness. “You have another offer, a better one. You know that. My father already told you that the doors to Caldwell Ventures are open to you.”
His words give me pause. It’s uncharacteristic of him. He’s displaying neither outrage on my behalf nor instinct to intervene. Instead, he’s presenting me with a perfect alternative laid out as if he expected this.
“That’s…that’s not the point,” I mumble into his chest.
Nathaniel pulls back just enough to see my face. He cradles my head in both hands, angling me toward him, his thumbs brushing away the tears on my cheeks tenderly.
“Just listen to me, baby,” he says, eyes steady on mine. “This is a better outcome. Caldwell Ventures is a stronger move for you. You’d get real responsibility from day one. You wouldn’t spend two years building decks for people who don’t see half as clearly as you do. My father already knows what you’re capable of. He respects your instincts. You’d be in the room where decisions happen—where your voiceactuallymatters.”
My pulse spikes. He sounds almost…eager.
“You’d rise faster with us,” he continues, warmth blooming in his tone. “Learn more. Do more. And”—his mouth curves into a small, hopeful smile—“we’d be working side by side. Building something together. Tell me that doesn’t feel right.”
There’s an undercurrent beneath his voice—thrilled, nearly boyish. As if the world has clicked into place exactly the way he’s always pictured it.
My breath catches. His certainty feels too complete. Too ready. Too rehearsed.
“Nathaniel, you’re taking this very…” I search for the word. “Rationally.”
He laughs lightly. “Because it’s solvable. All of it. You’re not losing anything. You’re just choosing differently now.”
Choosing?My choices have just been stripped away from me.
I study him—the relaxed set of his shoulders, the lift at the corner of his mouth, the spark in his eyes he isn’t hiding well.
Then, it clicks.
“Nathaniel…” I begin carefully. “Did you…know about this?”
“Baby,” he murmurs, tilting his head, his voice almost placating. “Why don’t you eat first, and we’ll talk about whatever’s worrying you.”
I know what he’s doing.He’s trying to manage me.
“Nathaniel,” I repeat, steadying my voice despite its tremor, “look at me.”
His gaze meets mine, irises impossibly blue in the morning light, and I justknow.
I shove back from the table, standing abruptly. I need space—any space—so I turn my back on him and move toward the living room.
My hands brace against the back of the sofa, trying to steady myself as the world spins around me. It feels as if the ground has shifted a fraction to the left without warning.
I reconstruct the last twenty-four hours in my mind, and the dots start to connect. His fingerprints are everywhere. All I need is for him to admit it.
When I turn around, he’s already there.
His expression remains impossibly calm, and something in me recoils at the sight of it. That serenity—inthismoment—feels like a slap across the face.
I muster the courage to ask the question I’m dreading the answer to: “Was it you?”
Nathaniel doesn’t flinch. He looks me dead in the eyes as if he’s prepared for this exact moment, as if every path has been leading us here.
“Yes,” he answers unequivocally, void of remorse.
