Page 36

The realization should terrify me. Instead, it feels like coming home, like finally admitting what my heart has known all along.

I love him. The boy he was, the man he's become, and every complex layer in between.

And maybe that's what gives me the strength to keep painting, to keep fighting—knowing we're in this together, both of us facing our own battles but choosing to do it side by side.

"Red?" His voice breaks through my concentration. "Come look at this."

I set down my brush, curious about the urgency in his tone. He's leaning forward, one of Gran's later diaries open before him.

"What did you find?"

His finger traces a passage dated just a month before she was fired. "Listen to this:

I found something unsettling today. Went to clean Mr. Saint's office, thought I heard voices.

When I opened the door, Jacob Wells was behind Theodore's computer, muttering numbers under his breath.

He didn't notice me at first—too focused on whatever he was doing.

The moment he saw me, though, his whole demeanor changed. Smiled too bright, too quick.

'Just running a security check, Mrs. Jenkins,' he said, but his hands were shaking as he gathered some papers. 'Mr. Saint's orders.'

I've worked here long enough to know when something's not right.

Told him I needed to dust the desk, and he practically leaped away from it.

'Of course, of course. But Mrs. Jenkins?

' His voice dropped, lost its fake cheeriness.

'Best not to mention this to anyone. Security protocols, you understand.

Wouldn't want anything... unfortunate to happen. '

After he left, I found a paper he'd dropped in his hurry.

Lists of word like ‘omega’ en different numbers, account codes maybe?

Letters that look like initials. S.G.V appears several times.

I kept it. Its tucked away safe. Working in this house, I've learned sometimes it's wise to hold onto things. Just in case."

"Holy shit." Ares runs a hand through his hair, his expression darkening. "Wells was the one who had it—the document my father was looking for."

"But what was he looking for on your dad's computer?" I ask, trying to make sense of it all.

"I don't know, but it must be something big for him to risk it.

My father's office was a no-go zone without his explicit permission, and it's clear by Wells' reaction that he was there unauthorized.

" Ares shakes his head, brow furrowed. "He was head of security, but even he wasn't allowed behind my father's computer. That was an absolute rule."

His eyes meet mine, intense with realization. "Your grandmother kept the document my father was missing, but Wells was the one who stole it."

"If she wrote about this, she must have written about—" I start, my mind racing.

"Exactly." Ares flips through the pages frantically until he lands on an entry from two weeks later. "This is it."

“July 15th - Theodore summoned me to his office today. Not a casual request, but a formal demand delivered through his assistant. My hands trembled as I knocked on his office door. The moment I entered, I felt it—something had shifted in the air between us.

"Mrs. Jenkins," he said, so coldly I nearly shivered. "I'm missing a very important piece of paper. Did you happen to see or find a piece of paper, with my handwriting…while cleaning my office?"

The paper Wells dropped flashed in my mind immediately. Those strange numbers and initials. I knew instantly this was what Theodore was searching for, what had him so agitated. My heart hammered against my ribs as I stood there, feeling the weight of that folded paper hidden in a safe spot.

I don't understand why I lied. The words simply formed themselves: "No, sir, I did not."

His eyes narrowed, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. I've never felt so transparent, so vulnerable. When he finally dismissed me, the knot in my stomach had grown to the size of a fist.

I realize now that I've trapped myself. Having denied finding anything, I cannot now produce the paper without revealing my lie.

And lying to Theodore Saint would be dangerous indeed.

Something is terribly wrong here. I pray things return to normal soon, but I can't shake this feeling of dread.

Whatever that paper contains, it matters deeply to him.

And now, God help me, it belongs to me."

"Okay. But this incident doesn't explain why your mom set me up with the jewelry."

"Oh, I have a hunch," Ares growls, his voice dropping into that dangerous, sarcastic tone I've come to recognize. "My parents talk about everything. Every. Single. Thing. So my father must have told my mom about the missing paper, and that your grandmother was on his suspect list."

He runs a hand through his hair, agitation evident in every movement. "Knowing my mother, she would have advised my dad to fire your grandmother."

I shrug. "So why didn't he?"

Ares sighs. "For all the bastard my father can be, he doesn't like change in his household.

He wouldn't have fired your grandmother without what he considered proof.

Evelyn had proven herself trustworthy after more than a decade working for our family.

That means something to my father. But my mother.

.." He shakes his head, disgust darkening his features.

"She isn't exactly warm-hearted, as you well know. "

His gaze turns distant, like he's piecing together a puzzle in real time.

"I'm thinking... she saw an opportunity when my father and I left for that business trip to London to find a way to convince my father to do what she wanted, get rid of you in my life.

And if that meant falsely accusing you, then so be it. And she got Wells to help her."

Ares looks at me, pain mixed with growing conviction. "So when we returned from London, my mother showed my father the security footage of you in her closet with the jewelry. Then Wells conveniently 'found' the missing pieces in your cottage."

He shakes his head. "To my father, it was an open and shut case—his trusted head of security catching the thief, who just happened to be the granddaughter of the woman he already suspected of taking his precious document."

"Perfect storm," I whisper.

"Perfect setup," he corrects. "Wells gets your grandmother fired, removing the only witness to whatever he was doing on my father's computer.

My mother gets you out of my life. And my father.

.." His voice hardens. "My father gets to feel justified in his suspicions while never questioning why his wife and head of security were so aligned in their story. "

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold despite the warm evening. "Why didn’t my grandmother tell your father about finding Wells in his office? She could have defended herself."

Ares's expression softens. "To protect you, most likely. She must have known the odds were stacked against her—Theodore Saint's trusted housekeeper versus his head of security? And if she admitted to having the document..."

"She'd be confirming she lied to him," I finish quietly. "When he directly asked her about it."

"Exactly. In my father's world, loyalty is everything. A betrayal like that..." He shakes his head. "She knew staying quiet was safer for both of you."

I run my fingers along the edge of the diary, tracing my grandmother's handwriting. "But what was on that paper that Wells took? What could possibly be worth all this—framing us, firing her, destroying our lives?"

Ares leans back, frustration evident in the set of his shoulders.

"I don't know. But whatever it was, it had to be damaging enough that my father couldn't risk it getting out—and valuable enough that Wells would gamble his career to obtain it." He rubs his jaw thoughtfully. "And it’s connected to Saint Global Ventures..."

"You mentioned that was one of your father's shell companies?"

"Yeah." His voice drops, almost reluctant to continue.

"It's where certain transactions go when he wants them kept quiet.

Not necessarily illegal, but..." He hesitates, choosing his words carefully.

"My father has always operated in gray areas when it comes to business.

The kind of gray that powerful men navigate without consequences. "

The implication hangs between us, heavy with possibility.

"We need to find that paper," Ares says finally, urgency threading through his voice. "Whatever Wells discovered and your grandmother kept hidden—it was important enough that someone might kill to keep it buried."

Ares spends the next hours combing through the remaining volumes.

But beyond that one crucial entry, Gran's writings reveal nothing else about that day in Theodore's office.

Just her usual observations about the house, careful notes about which rooms needed extra attention, which flowers were blooming in the garden.

The rustling of pages suddenly stops. When I look up from Gran's earlier entries, Ares sits frozen, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

"What?" I ask, setting down another diary.

He swallows hard, his finger marking a page. "I found something." His voice catches. "It's from three days after you left the cottage."

My heart stumbles. Those first days are seared into my memory—the bitter taste of betrayal, the endless tears, the way my body physically ached for someone who never came.

Ares clears his throat and begins to read:

"My sweet girl cried herself to sleep again tonight. Her pillow's wet with tears she thinks I don't see, but a grandmother knows.

I catch her sometimes, standing at the window, watching for his arrival. She thinks I don't notice how she straightens every time she hears a sound by the door, how her shoulders slump when it's nothing. How could they do this to her? Frame my innocent girl for their lies?

Tonight she finally asked the question I've been dreading: 'Why hasn't he come, Gran? Why does he believe them?' I had no answer that wouldn't shatter what's left of her heart.

The weight of this injustice is almost too much to bear. My brilliant, talented girl, reduced to watching shadows and chasing ghosts. The Saints may have taken our home, our security, but watching them steal my granddaughter's light—that's a sin I'm not sure even God can forgive."

The room goes still. I remember those nights with crystal clarity—the way hope felt like glass in my throat, cutting deeper with each passing day.

"Is there more?" Ares asks softly, his voice rough.

I shake my head, trying to swallow past the tightness in my chest. "She was too exhausted after that. Working two jobs, trying to keep us afloat... By the time she'd get home, she'd fall asleep in her chair."

Ares's hands tremble as he closes the diary. When he looks at me, his eyes shine with unshed tears. "Red, I—" He breaks off, emotion choking his words.

I move towards him, drawn by the raw pain in his voice. Without hesitation, I settle onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "I know," I whisper against his neck, feeling the tension in his muscles. "I know."

His arms circle my waist, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. I breathe in his familiar scent and feel the steady thump of his heart against my chest. The rhythm speaks of life, of presence, of now.

"You're here now," I murmur, running my fingers through the short hairs at his nape. "That's what matters most." The words feel right, healing something broken in both of us. His arms tighten around me, and I melt further into his embrace.

Time seems to pause as we hold each other, the weight of the past lightening with each shared breath.

The afternoon sun paints shadows across the studio floor, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wails.

But here, in this moment, there's only us—two people who lost their way finding their way back to each other.

His fingers trace gentle patterns on my back, and I close my eyes, allowing myself to simply feel. The ghost of my teenage self, that broken-hearted girl watching from windows, begins to fade. In its place grows something stronger, something built on understanding and shared battle scars.

"I should have been there," he whispers against my hair, his voice thick with regret.

I pull back just enough to meet his gaze, cupping his face in my hands. "You're fighting for us now. That's all that matters." My thumb catches a tear at the corner of his eye, brushing it away. The vulnerability in his expression makes my heart ache with a sweetness I'd forgotten existed.

The hours blur together as we work, the city lights creating a soft glow through the windows. Exhaustion gradually overtakes our determination, and we eventually make our way to the bed. Wrapped in his arms, I finally let go of the fear. Just for tonight, we’re safe.