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Morgan

I made it back from Bellwood an hour ago.

Spot’s surgery went well. The little guy’s going to live. Amanda cried when I called.

I should feel proud. I saved a dog’s life today.

Instead, I’m curled on the hotel bed, watching Max win on the TV.

Perfect form. Perfect smile. Perfect lies .

Until—

“ Because we didn’t want to give false hope to families counting on that donation—only to let them down if things didn’t go our way. ”

The words hit like a punch to the chest.

His face on the screen is raw. Honest in a way I’ve never seen before.

“ This cause matters. These kids matter. ”

My anger crumbles as understanding floods in. Oh god. The secrecy. The evasions. The reason he wouldn't—couldn't—help me buy the van.

He’d already promised that money to sick children.

And I called him selfish. Accused him of playing me. When all along—

Then he says it.

That he’ll be competing again. In the partners division.

Not with a celebrity. Not with a campaign.

“ With a real person. Someone important in my life. ”

My heart twists.

Oh, Max.

I sit up, heart pounding. He’s talking about me. He’s really talking about me.

I spring off the bed and race to the bathroom. My reflection looks like hell—mascara smudged, hair a mess from the wind in Bellwood. I splash water on my face and dig out my emergency makeup kit. I have to find him. Have to explain that I understand now. That maybe we could—

I step into the hallway and hear his voice.

Soft. Private.

Not the voice from the press conference. Not the one he uses on camera. This one is… quiet. Intimate.

It’s coming from the training room down the corridor. The door’s cracked just enough.

“You did so good today, girl,” he murmurs.

Stanley.

“This win, all our wins... they’re for Emmy. Everything we do is for Emmy.”

The air leaves my lungs.

Emmy .

Of course. There’s an Emmy.

Stanley lets out a quiet thump of her tail. Max laughs softly.

“Yeah, you do. We’ll never stop, will we? Never stop trying to make her proud.”

I back away like I’ve touched fire.

The campaign. The secrecy. The careful distance.

It wasn’t just about protecting the cause.

It was about her .

I make it back to my room in a daze. I don’t remember walking there. I just remember the way he said her name. So full of love.

At the front desk, I barely manage, “If anyone asks—I’ve checked out.”

“Of course, Ms. Bailey. Would you like me to hold your messages?”

“No calls. No visitors. Nothing.”

Back in the room, I collapse on the bed.

The partners competition is tomorrow. But I can’t. I just… can’t.

Not now. Not with him looking at Stanley like that. Talking about Emmy like that. While I’ve been falling—

I silence Amanda’s call. Otto keeps calling. I ignore the messages. I curl around a pillow and let the tears come.

Emmy. Everything we do is for Emmy.

It turns out I was right all along.

Max does love someone.

She’s just not me.