“Soon. I feel like I’m just not ready to say goodbye to Dad yet.”
There's a pause, and when Gemma speaks again, her voice has softened. "Mom's doing better, by the way.”
She never liked talking about death. I let her change the subject.
“Yeah?”
“Yes! She actually got dressed today. Went outside and everything. Whatever you're doing, Kat, it's working."
The relief that floods through me is so overwhelming that I have to close my eyes against the sting of tears. My family is safe. For the first time in five years, they're actually, truly safe. No more threatening phone calls. No more debt collectors showing up at my door. No more fear that Victor Kedrov's long arms will reach across state lines and destroy the people I love most. When I told them they had to move to New York it was under the guise of it being cheaper to live there after Dad died. I promised I would follow right after I graduated. Only Gemma knows I dropped out.
"I'm glad." My voice comes out rougher than I intended, scraped raw by emotions I can't fully express. "Take care of her for me, okay? And take care of yourself."
"Always." Gemma's smile is audible through the phone. "Love you, big sis."
"Love you too, little one."
I end the call and sit for a moment in the silence of my new office, letting the conversation settle into my bones. Gemma sounded happy. Genuinely happy, not the forced cheerfulness she's been performing for the past five years while our family crumbled around us.
Whatever price I'm paying to be here, it's worth it. Every awkward moment, every confusing emotion, every kiss that threatens to undo me. It's all worth it if it means my family can finally breathe.
A folder on my desk catches my attention, and I pull it toward me to find a work list written in Drake's masculine scrawl. The instructions are detailed, demanding, and absolutely fair. He expects a lot from his assistant, but he's also taken the time to explain exactly what he needs and why.
I throw myself into the work with a focus that borders on desperation, grateful for the distraction from thoughts of last night. The tasks are challenging enough to require my full attention, and by mid-afternoon I've fallen into a rhythm that feels almost natural.
Sienna appears in my doorway around two o'clock with a fresh coffee and a conspiratorial smile. "Break time. You've been staring at that screen for three hours straight."
I accept the cup gratefully and lean back in my chair while she perches on the edge of my desk, her legs crossed at the ankle and her posture relaxed in a way that invites conversation.
"So." She takes a sip of her own drink and watches me over the rim. "How are you holding up? First days can be brutal."
"Honestly? My head is swimming." I gesture at the stack of folders Drake left for me. "There's so much to learn. I keep worrying I'm going to mess something up and get fired before the week is out."
Sienna laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "Trust me, I know exactly how you feel. When I started working for Rafael, I accidentally scheduled him for three meetings at the same time on my second day. Three. He had to be in the boardroom, the conference room, and on a video call simultaneously." She shakes her head at the memory. "I was convinced he was going to fire me on the spot."
"What happened?"
"He looked at my schedule, looked at me, and said 'Pick one. Cancel the other two. And next time, check the calendar before you confirm anything.'" She grins. "That was it. No yelling. No lecture. Just fix it and learn from it."
The anecdote loosens a knot of anxiety I didn't realize I was carrying. "That's... surprisingly reasonable."
"They all are, once you figure out how they operate." Sienna leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Kon pretends he doesn't care about details, but he notices everything. If you move something on his desk, he'll know. Massimo is a stickler for proper legal language, so don'tparaphrase anything he sends you. Rowan barely speaks, but if he nods at you, that's basically a standing ovation in his world."
I file each piece of information away, grateful for the insider knowledge. "And Drake?"
Her expression softens with something that looks almost like fondness. "Drake is... complicated. He comes off cold, but it's armor, not personality. He notices the small things. Remembers details you mentioned once in passing and never brought up again." She pauses, studying my face. "He asked me to make sure your office had good lighting because you wear glasses. Said he didn't want you straining your eyes."
The revelation lands somewhere soft in my chest, and I don't know what to do with it.
Sienna must read something in my expression because she changes the subject smoothly, launching into a story about the time Luca convinced an entire floor of executives that there was a dress code change and half of them showed up in Hawaiian shirts. Her laughter is infectious, and I find myself relaxing into the conversation, sharing small pieces of myself in return.
By the time she slips back to her own desk an hour later, I feel less like a stranger navigating foreign territory and more like someone who might actually belong here.
I listen and let myself be grateful for her warmth, even as some small part of me wonders when the other shoe will drop. Good things don't happen to me. Friendships don't form this easily. There must be a catch somewhere.
But for now, in this moment, I let myself enjoy the connection without questioning it too deeply.
The afternoon light has begun to fade into evening gold when my new phone buzzes with an incoming text. I glance at the screen and feel my heart rate spike.
