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T he morning sun was barely up when I left Damier’s mother’s estate. My first day back at work was finally here. A month away from my office should’ve left me feeling rejuvenated, but the past few weeks helping Damier recover were anything but a break. I wasn’t just a therapist anymore; I was a full-time caretaker and even sometimes an unwilling accomplice in his world of danger when his crew stopped by. Still, I missed the rhythm of my own life, my work, my purpose. I needed this day to remind me of why I got into this field in the first place. Today, I was going to focus on me, my work, and getting back to my groove.

The building was just as I left it―clean and bright, with the faint smell of fresh coffee and vanilla. My receptionist, Janae, greeted me at the door with a welcoming smile, letting me know I had a new client lined up for my first session.

“Jennifer Dolphin,” she said, handing me the file. I hadn’t thought much of it when I scheduled her. She was one of several new clients who’d requested sessions while I was away, and I barely glanced at her intake form.

“Good morning, Dr. Jaxton,” Jennifer said, stepping into my office.

I was immediately struck by her presence. She was stylish but understated, with a kind of quiet elegance that made her seem almost mysterious. Her eyes caught me off guard―one green, one a light, almost golden brown. I felt a shiver as I took in the unusual beauty.

“Good morning, Ms. Dolphin.” I reached out my hand and gave a small smile. “Please, have a seat.”

She crossed her legs gracefully as she sat, her eyes never leaving me. I adjusted my notes, curious to know what had brought her here.

“So,” I began, settling into my chair with my pen and notepad in hand, “your file says you’d like to discuss the reason for your divorce.”

Jennifer’s face changed, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Yes,” she said with a slight laugh, “I’ve got a lot to say about that. But… maybe let’s start with the man himself.”

“Alright. Tell me about your ex,” I said, my curiosity piqued as I settled into the moment, ready to listen.

She glanced out the window for a moment as if piecing together the words in her mind. “Let’s just say my ex was rich, sexy, and dangerous… just the way I like them.”

An eyebrow slightly rose in surprise, but I kept my expression calm. “Would you like to give a name?” I asked, pen poised.

Her eyes flitted back to me, and she grinned, almost like she was savoring some private joke.

“Let’s just call him Franklin.”

“Alright, ‘Franklin’ it is. You say he was dangerous. Was he abusive toward you?”

Jennifer’s expression hardened. “No. Franklin didn’t hit women. And if he ever needed to, he had someone else do it for him. He was a romantic at heart, always wining and dining the women in his life. But there was something different about him… he was loyal, almost obsessive, and not the type to cheat.” Her eyes fell to my hands, lingering. “Speaking of loyalty, you’re not wearing a ring. I saw you won that TV show with that handsome billionaire. I guess it was fake if he hasn’t made you his wife. I heard in the blogs that he isn’t hard to please.”

The comment caught me off guard. “It wasn’t fake. We’re just not ready,” I said, clearing my throat and moving the conversation back to her. “So, Ms. Dolphin, why did you end things with him? Franklin sounds like he was a good man.”

She leaned back in her chair, staring up at the ceiling for a second before letting out a low laugh. “Oh, I fumbled him badly. Let’s just say his money blinded me… I got greedy, but I was only trying to find comfort in my marriage. I had a drug problem that he found out about after four years of marriage. But I blame him for my use. I went through a lot mentally.” She glanced at me, her gaze darker now. “But I don’t want to talk about that yet.”

I stayed silent, sensing there was more beneath the surface of her words, layers of something too painful or too revealing to be uncovered so soon.

After a moment, Jennifer continued, her voice softer. “Franklin left scars that I carry even now, scars without ever laying a hand on me.”

Intrigued, I shifted slightly, my pen poised, eyes attentive. “Would you like to tell me more about that?”

A slow smile spread across her face, chilling in its calm. She reached into her purse and pulled out a vape pen, which she held with the elegance of someone handling fine jewelry. She took a slow draw before exhaling. The faint smell of lavender wafted through the room. “Can I tell you a story?”

I nodded. “Tell away.”

Jennifer took a deep breath as if drawing strength from whatever memory she was about to unveil. “One night, I decided to surprise him at his office. I’d made him a home-cooked meal, which was rare for me. I wanted to see him light up, to surprise him in a way that mattered. But when I walked in…” Her voice trailed off, and she paused, swallowing hard. “When I walked in, I was greeted not just by Franklin, but by… something else entirely.”

The silence in the room was thick, pressing down on us as she continued.

“There was a man dead on the floor,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Franklin stood over him with his team all around him, his hand still holding a bloody razor. I froze. He looked at me like he was… someone else. And then, as calm as ever, he said, ‘Babe, you shouldn’t have come here without calling.’”

I felt a chill run down my spine, and I swallowed hard, my throat dry. It was hard to keep my expression neutral, to mask the shock and unease twisting in my stomach. I wasn’t just witnessing her trauma—I felt it as if I were standing in that room with her, confronted by the horror.

Jennifer’s eyes glinted as she looked at me, her voice softening as she said, “And that’s just the beginning. I saw a lot more than that… things that change you, make you tougher, things you can’t unsee.”

I nodded slowly, allowing the silence to settle around us. It wasn’t time to speak, only to let her words hang there in the air between us, a reminder of the darkness she had witnessed.

As the session wore on, Jennifer shared three more stories, each one more twisted and revealing than the last. By the time she was done, I could barely take notes. My head was spinning with the intensity of her experiences, the fear and allure of this shadowy figure she called “Franklin.”

I checked the time. We’d gone over our session limit, and I felt drained as if I’d been dragged through a whirlwind of danger, secrets, and manipulation.

“Thank you for sharing all of that with me,” I said, my voice steady, though my mind was anything but. “Would you like to schedule a follow-up appointment?”

She nodded, her lips quirking into a faint smile. “Same time next week.”

After she left, I sank back into my chair, the weight of everything she’d shared pressing down on me. I needed a drink and maybe even a session with my own therapist. Or… maybe just a moment with Damier. He’d know exactly what to say to pull me back from whatever strange, dark place I’d been taken to.

I arrived back at Damier’s mother’s estate, still a little shaken. I barely noticed the security as I passed through, heading out to the deck where Damier was sitting, a cigar in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.

He looked up, catching the tense look on my face as I approached. “Long day at work, huh?”

I forced a smile as I sat down beside him, slipping into his lap. “You have no idea.”

He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer, his warmth seeping into me. “Want to talk about it?”

I bit my lip, hesitating. “I can’t really say much—patient confidentiality and all—but let’s just say… it was intense.”

He nodded, understanding, and pressed a gentle kiss to my temple. “I get it. Just know that you can always leave that shit out there when you come home to me.”

His words were simple but comforting, and I let myself relax in his arms. Sitting there with him, the stories of Jennifer’s dark past began to fade, replaced by the solid, comforting presence of the man I was starting to see as my own source of peace in the storm. Just as I started to relax, he shifted the topic.

“Mia’s been on my case about making a public appearance,” he said, sighing. “Says it’s time for me to remind people I’m still around after the show. People been saying our relationship is fake.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem thrilled.”

“Because I’m not,” he admitted, chuckling as he leaned back, stretching his injured leg with a grimace. “I want you to myself. Why does the world have to know what happened after the show? And this fuckin’ leg shit… Gotta show up on crutches, and I know everyone’s going to be asking what happened.”

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation, Damier,” I said, trying to reassure him.

He nodded, but his eyes held a flicker of uncertainty. “I know I don’t, but there’s still this ceremony I gotta go to. It’s supposed to be a big deal, this two-billion mark I just made it to, and my financial advisor wants to celebrate.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but I felt my jaw slightly drop.

“Two billion?” I managed to say, quickly smoothing over my surprise with a calm smile. “You’re full of surprises.”

A grin played on his lips as he took in my expression. “Oh, you didn’t know?”

“I had no idea you were bringing in that much,” I admitted, barely able to keep my cool.

He laughed softly, clearly amused. “Guess I’ll keep surprising you, then. But if you’re okay with it, I want you there. On my arm.”

“Really?” I smirked, raising an eyebrow.

He paused, tilting his head and narrowing his gaze at me. “You my lady, right? Me having you on my arm is a problem?” he asked with that same calm confidence that could make anyone feel like they’d never really questioned anything in their life.

I tried to hide my laugh, but it slipped out. “So demanding.” I leaned forward, pressing a kiss on his lips. “But, no, I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Good,” he murmured, pulling me closer and settling me back against his chest.

We sat there for a while, the silence between us easy and full. He didn’t say it, but I knew how much the next few weeks would mean to him, how much it would mean for us to show up together as something more than just a reality TV storyline.

As he held me close, I felt like we’d crossed a line, moving into something deeper than we’d anticipated. And I was ready—surprisingly ready—to see what being “his” would mean, even if it came with the shadows he’d worked so hard to shield me from.