“Okay then,” she says, voice a little lower. “Then let’s give them hell.”
My grilled cheese is barely half-eaten, the soup long gone cold. Alina’s watching me like a hawk, her glossy lips pursed while my phone buzzes with another message from Martin and Lee, the firm still representing me on the defamation side.
“They’re not thrilled,” she says, sipping her cocoa. “You walking away from a six-figure deal makes them look... underwhelming.”
“Not my problem,” I murmur, fingers curling around my mug. It’s too warm. Too tight.
“It could be your parents’ problem, though.” Alina leans in, tone careful. “That’s life-changing money, Jade. For them. For you. College. Housing. Medical bills. Everything.”
I flinch.
She’s not wrong.
But she’s not right either.
I scrape my chair back, needing air. “I need time to think.”
Alina nods, lips tight. “Don’t wait too long. The longer you stay silent, the easier it is for them to bury you.”
Outside, Newport is all charm—holly in windows, cobblestone sidewalks, a brass quartet playing under twinkle lights. And I’m just trying to breathe.
I wander aimlessly, trying to ignore the way my skin feels too tight, like I'm wearing the wrong body. Then I hear a familiar clipped accent, low and composed.
“Johnathan, not that one. The navy cashmere.”
I freeze.
Leo’s mother is standing in front of a boutique window, gloved hand holding up a shopping bag, her gray peacoat perfectly belted, her posture a dagger. Her chauffeur trails behind, arms full of gift boxes and silent judgment.
She turns—and sees me.
Recognition flickers in her eyes. Then cold civility.
“Miss Bryan or is Bryan?”
My throat tightens. “Mrs. Holt.”
She takes a step closer, eyes scanning me like I’m inventory. “Out for a stroll?”
I want to say something snarky. I want to throw her words back in her face. But I’m tired.
So I just nod. “Something like that.”
A beat passes.
Then she says, voice smooth as glass, “You’ve caused quite the... stir.”
“And you protect the ones behind most of it,” I reply, chin lifting.
She exhales slowly. “Be careful, Miss Bryan. Not every storm leaves the ship stronger.”
I turn away before I say something unforgivable.
But not before I see the look in her eyes.
She’s not afraid of me.
But she should be.
