As Mom diced garlic with practiced ease, Grandma hummed <i>a </i>tune I recognized from my childhood. It was the same luby she used to sing when I scraped my knee after falling off my


    bike.


    I squeezed my chest. “Remember when I insisted I could ride


    without training wheels?”


    Grandma chuckled. “And promptly crashed into that hydrangea


    bush.”


    Momughed–first genuineughter I’d heard in days. “You


    came inside, shrub in hand.”


    We set the pot on the burner, the spicy aroma filling the


    kitchen. The chemistry between us felt different–like we’d all


    stepped back into a version of home I hadn’t realized I missed.


    Over the simmering sauce, I took a steadying breath. “So… I need


    to tell you both something.”


    Grandma nced at me, eyebrows knitting. Mom stopped


    stirring pasta water.


    “I’ve decided to finalize the divorce,” I said firmly, though my


    heart fluttered. “I want it. I’m done with the Hawthrone drama.”


    Mom set down her spoon, reaching out to grasp my hand. “You’re doing what’s best for you, Liv.”


    Grandma, stirring sauce, murmured, “Best for your head and


    heart.”


    I lifted a spoonful of sauce to taste it. It was perfect–my version


    of home. “I’ll leave for New York in three days.”


    Mom wrapped her free arm around me. “We’ll miss you,


    sweetheart. But you’re strong.”


    “Thank you,” I whispered.


    Lunch was warm–literal and emotional. We shared memories:


    Grandma’s funny stories about my childhood teeth–brushing


    rebellion, Mom’s half–remembered college adventures when


    she first dreamt of motherhood. My worry melted with each


    anecdote.


    Between bites, Mom sipped water thoughtfully. “Are you sure,


    Liv?”


    I swallowed. “This is small to me now. I’ve lost more than I ever


    expected, but I’m not losing myself.”


    Grandma hummed in agreement. “The world may shake, but


    you stand steady.”


    After lunch, sunlight streamed through the windows. Ibed


    through my phone onest time–news still roiled online, but <b>I </b>


    recognized something: people were prizing, but lines had


    been drawn. And now, the other party had more to lose.


    My phone buzzed. It was Lily–my former subordinate. I


    stepped onto the porch, something in Lily’s tone unusual.


    “Olivia,” she whispered, voice loaded. “I’ve got an info.”


    “What’s that?”


    “It’s about Hawthrone’s loan–Eclipse Bank just froze the second


    phase. All funds blocked.”


    My heart sank. “Blocked? Why?”


    “Alpha Ethan ordered it. He said the negative publicity was


    wrong for the project. Told Windsor he loved only you–and


    refused to marry Chole.”


    I closed my eyes. So even he… My chest tightened. “Lily, are they


    arguing with Windsor now?”


    “Yes. Windsor’s n is unraveling. They’re fighting hard-


    threats, pressure, usations. It’s chaos.”


    “During a dispute between the Windsor family and the


    Hawthrone family, Mr. Windsor learned that the loan had been


    frozen.”


    Olivia’s POV


    It finally hit me–Alpha Alexander had stood up for me.Quietly, efficiently, without fanfare, he had taken action the moment the nderous press release dropped. I hadn’t asked him. I hadn’t even known he would. But he did. And not just for show.


    By freezing the loans tied to the Hawthrone and Windsor families, he’d put them both in a corner. At a time when the world debated my worth<i>, </i>he’d spoken through action. He made it known that I was not to be trampled. That I washis secretary.


    I didn’t need to ask for a shield.He gave me one.


    That thought warmed something deep in my chest. It didn’t solve everything, not yet, but it reminded me I had something to fall back on. A stable ce to rebuild. Not just physically, but


    mentally. I wasn’t entirely alone anymore.


    The car ride back to New York felt lighter than it had in days.


    The wind through the cracked window, the soft hum of tires on


    asphalt, even the rhythm of my own breathing–it all felt like a


    small victory.


    I pulled into a highway service area just past noon, near a


    wooded stretch that usually stayed quiet. I wanted to stretch my legs, maybe grab a snack.


    I was still gathering myself when Yve stirred.


    <b>Chapter </b><b>76 </b>


    “Look left. That man–same one from three nights ago.”


    My body didn’t flinch, but my heart dropped. I kept my eyes trained on the mirror instead of turning outright. I saw him.


    Leaning against the side of a weathered gray sedan was a man, maybe in his forties. Brown leather jacket, beat–up sneakers, a casual cigarette between his fingers, phone pressed to his ear. He was facing sideways, but his gaze flickered–almost too often -in my direction.


    Three nights ago, at a convenience store just outside the city, I had seen that same man. He had stood behind the chip aisle pretending to browse, yet his reflection in the cooler doors gave


    him away. Now here he was again.


    I didn’t panic. Icouldn’tpanic.