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Emma’s hand tightens in mine, her earlier joy evaporating. I can feel tension radiating from her body as she stares at the photo.

“Lucas... the Johnsons. If they think this is affecting our judgment...” She pulls away slightly, that familiar furrow deepening between her brows. “Everything we’ve worked for—”

“No,” I say firmly, turning her to face me. “This is exactly what Clara wants. She’s trying to make us doubt ourselves, to create distance between us.”

“But what if she’s right?” Emma’s voice drops, vulnerability creeping in. “What if we’re jeopardizing the company by being together? What if the board thinks—”

“The old Lucas would have worried about that,” I interrupt, suddenly seeing with perfect clarity what’s happening. “The Lucas who ran to New York rather than face difficult truths. The one who hid behind professional distance because he was afraid of his feelings.”

She stills, her gaze locked with mine as I continue, my conviction growing stronger with each word.

“But I’m not that person anymore. I’m not running from this—from us—or letting Clara manipulate me with fears about what others might think. Our work is brilliant. Our approach is innovative. And being together makes both of us better.”

Sophie has gone quiet, watching us with an expression I can’t quite read.

“Let them think what they want,” I tell Emma, holding her gaze. “We’re not doing anything wrong. Our work speaks for itself.”

“But Clara—”

“Is trying to rattle us before tonight.” I brush a strand of hair from her face, my touch gentle but firm. “We’ll show them all that we’re stronger together. That being in love doesn’t make us less professional—it makes us unstoppable.”

Her breath catches. “You just said...”

“That I love you? Yes.” I trace the curve of her cheek, suddenly aware that I’ve never said these words to anyone outside my family before. They feel right, necessary, like the final piece of a puzzle falling into place. “I do. And I’m not hiding it anymore. Not from Garrett, not from Clara, not from anyone.”

I see the moment it hits her—the full weight of what I’m saying. This isn’t just about a declaration of feelings; it’s about me finally standing my ground, facing problems directly instead of ducking away from conflict. It’s the opposite of everything the old Lucas would have done.

“Oh my gosh, I’m going to cry and ruin my makeup,” Sophie announces, fanning her face. Then, with unexpected seriousness, she adds, “You know, I used to worry you’d never get here, Lucas. After Dad died... I wasn’t sure you’d ever let yourself be vulnerable again.”

The raw honesty in her voice catches me off guard. Behind her matchmaking schemes and teasing, my sister has been carrying her worries and hopes for me.

“Emma,” Sophie says, turning to her friend with misty eyes. “You might want to say it back before he has a heart attack.”

Emma’s laugh is watery, her eyes shining with emotion. “I love you too. Even when you’re being magnificently magnificent.”

“I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Not a chance.” She rises on tiptoes to kiss me softly. “But I love that too. I love that you’re choosing to stand and fight instead of pulling away. I love that you’re willing to face Clara and Garrett and anyone else who thinks we can’t be both professional partners and... us.”

The kiss deepens slightly, a promise and affirmation wrapped in one.

Sophie clears her throat. “As much as I’m enjoying this rom-com moment I orchestrated, we have a gala to prepare for. And a corporate shark to outsmart.”

She picks up her phone again, studying Clara’s post with narrowed eyes. “You know, two can play at this game. While you two finish practicing your waltz, I’m going to call in some favors from the PR team. By tonight, the narrative will be about Walker Enterprises’ dream team combining innovation and tradition. Clara wants a media war? Let’s give her one.”

There’s something fierce in my sister’s expression I rarely see—the protective instinct that makes her more than just a skilled marketing executive. It reminds me of the time in high school when she confronted a group of seniors who were making fun of Emma’s color-coded notebooks. Sophie doesn’t just scheme and meddle; she fights for the people she loves.

“Okay!” Sophie claps her hands, all business again. “Save the romance for after you wow the Johnsons. Emma, final dress fitting. Lucas, go get ready. And remember—you’re picking her up at seven, and Mom expects you both for photos on the terrace before the gala starts.”

As I head out, I hear Sophie already planning the wedding, her voice animated as she describes flower arrangements and color schemes. But for once, the thought doesn’t terrify me. If anything, it feels like a future worth fighting for.

Some things are worth risking everything for.

Even if Clara Brighton is determined to make tonight as difficult as possible.

Because Emma Hastings loves me.

And that makes us invincible.