Page 54 of Fallen Heir

What if he wasn’t strong enough to fight through all my demons…Or worse, what if he was, and I still didn’t know how to let him?

Now, with Jaxson gone, Ben had filled the space. Not in the same way. Not with soft words or burning touches.

But with quiet presence. With safety.

He’d been watching over me since the moment Jaxson left—hovering without hovering, always there. If I so much as moved from my couch to the kitchen, Ben was somewhere nearby—either standing by the door like an immovable statue or lurking near a window like he was personally offended by sunlight.

I wasn’t used to being protected. Not like this.

Growing up, I always had a feeling I was being followed—watched. At school. At the mall. Even at home sometimes.

There were always men in dark suits, pretending not to look my way.

I never asked about it. Never questioned it.

I just assumed it was because we were wealthy—because my dad was cautious. Because that’s what rich families did when they had a lot to lose.

But now I knew better.

It wasn’t just security. It was survival.

My life had been on the line long before I ever knew there were rules I was breaking just by breathing.

The bank accounts I have steadily growing tell enough on their own. And now, with Ben sitting a few feet away and Jaxson orchestrating a war behind the scenes, I couldn’t help but feel like this was all just a second chance. A quieter one.

I stood by the kitchen island, sipping my second coffee of the morning while he pretended not to notice me watching him. He sat by the window in my living room, scrolling on his phone, but I knew better. He wasn’t reading.

He was observing.

Guarding.

Breathing for me in case I forgot how.

I leaned my elbows on the counter and sighed. “Do you and Jaxson, like, take shifts? Is that what this is?”

Ben looked up, his expression unreadable. “He doesn’t sleep unless he knows you’re safe.”

My throat caught. “And you?”

His gaze didn’t flinch. “I sleep enough.”

The guilt hit hard and fast, curling around my ribs like it had claws. I hated feeling like this. Like a burden being passed between two men who probably had better things to do with their time than babysit me.

But when I looked at Ben—his posture, his steady gaze, the relaxed way he sat like he meant to be here—it didn’t feel like babysitting.

It felt like backup.

Like a quiet reassurance I never knew I needed.

And the selfish part of me wanted that.

I’d been in the tabloids nearly every day for the past two weeks. Each time I was seen with Jaxson—leaving a dinner, entering a coffee shop, walking out of his building—my face showed up on the front of another magazine.

The only time it didn’t was when he was wrapped around me in the privacy of my own home. The spotlight didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.

Maybe because it felt like progress. Like I wasn’t hiding anymore. Like I was reclaiming myself.

Still, I was surprised that no one had caught me with Ben. He was always with me. Quiet. Tall. Watchful. But not famous. Not Manhattan’s Most Eligible Anything.