Page 1

Chapter

One

Grace

The empty hallway swallowed the sound of Grace’s heels, the sharp clicks softened by layers of drywall dust. She should have scheduled another walk-through with her contractor this week, but what was the point? Every time she stepped into this building, another problem surfaced.

She entered the first condo on the right, the door still missing a knob. The plumbing needed updating, and it seemed to have been installed by a Yukon dead set on burying those pipes so deep in the walls they’d never be one cold snap away from bursting.

She sighed. It could’ve been worse.

Troy Bowen knew exactly what he was doing when he left her this place, and if she ever had any doubts that he loved her, this put them to rest. Who was she kidding? She knew he loved her, but that had never been the problem, had it?

Troy loved everyone. Specifically women. More specifically, women with hourglass figures and asses you could bounce a quarter off of. Hers had qualified five years ago, but she was quite certain she’d been kicked out of the coin-flicking club sometime after her thirty-second birthday.

Grace crouched and inspected the new baseboards, running a finger along the sharp, clean edge. Flat-profiled, five inches high, with a crisp, modern finish—they were the kind of understated but intentional detail that made a space feel polished without drawing attention to itself. The contractor had pushed for something trendier, maybe a shaker-style or craftsman cut, but she’d shut that down immediately. The goal wasn’t to make a statement.

She stood and straightened her slacks. Troy may not have been willing to commit romantically, but he’d left her this Kensington condo building in his will. It was the only complex of its kind in this part of the city, a unicorn in Calgary’s real estate market. The architecture alone made it valuable, and once she got through months of permits, renovations, and legal headaches, it would be worth a small fortune.

A part of her wondered if this was his way of winning after all. Finally convincing her to move to Calgary when she’d refused to years prior.

The joke was on him. She wasn’t going to keep this building. Grace had all the know-how to hire a management company and put these units up for rent, but she’d never wanted to be a landlord. She wouldn’t start now in a city across the country from home.

She strode back into the hall and pushed open the next unit, inspecting the new drywall and finished tile on the kitchen backsplash. The units on this floor could be used to make a time-lapse video of the renovations, all in varying states of disarray. But blowing up at the contractor wasn’t on the table. At least not until people took their Christmas lights down.

Grace’s phone buzzed, vibrating in her purse. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen. Jenna.

She grinned, already prepping herself for the gushing and unadulterated bliss Jenna doled out these days. Whoever said a woman has to be pregnant to emit glowing life energy never met a new adoptive parent.

“Checking in to make sure I haven’t been buried alive under drywall?” Grace answered, wedging the phone between her ear and shoulder as she paced toward the window.

Jenna’s laugh was bright. “Thought I’d remind you there’s life outside that mess you keep calling an investment.”

Grace snorted, glancing at the city stretching out beyond the glass. “You say that like I don’t have a very full social calendar with my contractor.”

“Wait, are you sleeping with him?”

“No! I meant?—”

“I know what you meant, I was only hoping.”

Grace scoffed. “Have you met Matthew?”

“What, is he gross?”

“Not gross, just extremely married.”

Jenna blew out a breath. “Well, what the hell are you doing, spending all your time with a married man?”

“It’s a strategy. That way, I don’t have to hang out with single men.”

Jenna laughed out loud. “Well, you’re probably not going to like my proposition then.”

“Which is?”

“We have an extra ticket to the Blizzard game tonight. A “thank-you” for all the legal wizardry you did with Hope’s adoption.”

“Is that . . . reverse bribery?”

“You’d know the legal term.”

Grace pretended to consider it, tilting her head toward the ceiling. “Is this where I remind you that last time I went to a game, I spent the first period checking my emails and the second cleaning beer off my Fendi bag?”

Jenna burst out laughing. “Okay, to be fair, that was an accident. Country isn’t normally that clumsy. Ooh! And we have a suite this time. With food.” She paused for a moment. “Am I swaying you?”

“It’s not a terrible offer.”

“Hm. Excellent. That’s what I was going for.”

“But I’m exhausted.”

“You’re also boring.”

Grace scoffed. “That . . . is not true. I have a career and?—”

“You’re a workaholic with the social life of an old library book. Which I can say because you’re hot as hell and make more than Country and I put together. So. You can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”

Grace sighed. “Jenna, I love you, but I genuinely don’t know if I have the energy to?—”

“You could analyze the arena’s commercial real estate value between periods. Or discuss the legal ramifications of Henley breaking his contract.” Jenna must’ve sensed her resolve cracking because she went in for the kill. “You only have a few more months here. Don’t you want to hang out with your best friends?”

Grace groaned. “You’re my only friends.”

“My point exactly. Come out with us and meet new friends. And I promise, Country’s a great bouncer. He can keep the feral single men away from you. I won’t even let him hold his beer. He’ll have to keep it on the counter like a toddler.”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll come. What time?”

Jenna shrieked into the phone, and Grace pulled it away from her ear. “Seven. I’ll meet you at the front.”

“Bring Hope. That’s the only reason I’m agreeing to this.”

“Well, of course.”

Grace shook her head as she hung up, staring out at the Calgary skyline. One night wouldn’t kill her. And, if she was being honest, her rental was feeling a bit lonely.

She turned from the window and found her bag. Might as well clear up a few loose ends before heading out for the evening. She pulled out her laptop and scanned her emails, only to pause halfway down her scroll.

Her brows pinched. The subject line hit like a punch to the sternum.

Petition to Revoke Consent for Adoption.

Grace’s hand hovered over the mouse, suddenly useless, her fingers numb as she clicked the email open. The words on the screen blurred at first, then sharpened into something cold and undeniable. The birth mother was trying to get Hope back.

Her stomach plummeted.

No. No, this wasn’t possible. This was done. This wasn’t some half-baked agreement or rushed paperwork—it was ironclad. She’d made sure of it. She didn’t make mistakes.

But here it was. A legal petition. A challenge.

The paragraphs swam before her eyes, but she forced herself to focus. She ran through everything she knew about Alberta adoption law, ticking off every safeguard she’d put in place.

The birth mother had signed away her rights.

It was a closed adoption.

Jenna and Country had full custody.

Unless…

Grace scanned further, her stomach turning.

“Material change in circumstances . . .”

Oh, hell. That’s what they were arguing. A birth parent in Alberta could challenge an adoption post-finalization under extreme conditions—abuse, fraud, coercion. None of those applied here. Absolutely none. But then she saw the argument.

“The petitioner was in a vulnerable state at the time of relinquishment and was not of sound mind when consenting.”

Bullshit. Absolute bullshit.

Grace dug her nails into her palm, grounding herself in something other than the sheer fury tightening her chest. This wasn’t about fraud or coercion. This was about regret. A mother who changed her mind, and the court would let her try?

That pissed her right off. Not because the mother had feelings—of course she did. But because there was no way this woman had gotten her ducks in a row in the past month. She wasn’t doing what was best for Hope, and Grace had plenty of professional experience with that kind of maternal selfishness.

Could this even get traction? The standard for overturning an adoption was insanely high. The birth mother would need evidence—medical records, psychiatric evaluations, proof of instability at the time of consent.

Could this woman have faked it? Or was there something she’d missed?

A sick feeling crawled up her spine. She’d left family law for a reason. It had been too personal, too draining, too rife with other people’s pain that then bled into her own life. Property law didn’t cry on the phone at midnight. It didn’t come with gut-wrenching, life-altering stakes.

She had walked away from this kind of emotional wreckage years ago. And yet, here she was, drowning in it again.

Did she screw this up?

Her brain hissed at her, tearing apart every step of the process, every document signed, every witness present, every single moment she had assured them it was done. She was careful, meticulous.

She squeezed her eyes shut and forced a deep breath. Stop spiraling. Solve the damn problem.

Fine. Worst-case scenario: The court agrees to hear the petition. That doesn’t mean they win.

Step one: Call the adoption agency first thing in the morning. Confirm the mother’s state at signing. Make sure there’s zero ambiguity in their records.

Step two: Find out if this judge is sympathetic to these cases. Some were sticklers for legal precedent, and some were more emotional. If they got the wrong judge, this could drag out longer than it should.

Step three: Do not tell Jenna and Country. Not yet. If this case got legs, she’d tell them with a plan in place. Not a second before.

Her hands were steady again. The fear still coiled in her chest, but it wasn’t running the show.

She glanced at the clock and swore under her breath. The game.

She needed to leave now if she was going to arrive home in time to change. How was she supposed to sit through a hockey game and pretend everything was okay?

But if she didn’t go, Jenna would only be more insistent. She needed to show up to avoid giving any indication that things were not fine.

Grace shut the laptop, grabbed her blazer, and walked out the door.