The mansion was silent, and Kate sat at the dining table, surrounded by hospital papers, medical prescriptions, and a sheet with post-op instructions. But her eyes weren't on any of it. They were fixed on Oliver's drawing. She had brought it with her, as if letting it go meant betraying her son's feelings. She looked at the scene again: the three of them holding hands. A family. Grayson hadn't stayed at the hospital that night. The doctor insisted he rest because the surgery was the next day and they needed him alert. Eileen stayed overnight with Oliver, and Kate returned to the mansion supposedly to sleep, but she couldn't. Oliver's words kept echoing in her head. 'Please, Mommy… go back to Dad.' Suddenly, she stood up fast and grabbed her car keys without thinking. At his apartment, Grayson had just stepped out of the shower. A towel hung over his shoulder, and his hair was still dripping as he walked into the living room. He rubbed a hand over his face and let out a long bre

The hospital was quiet at that early hour. Kate and Grayson walked down the main hallway hand in hand, as if that simple touch gave them the courage they needed. They didn't speak. They didn't have to. Their fingers intertwined, the quiet glances they exchanged, the soft squeeze of reassurance… that was their language now. The language of two people who had finally decided to stand together. Inside, both were nervous. It was a big day. Oliver's surgery would take place in just a few hours. They trusted the medical team, yet fear still lived in the spaces between their breaths. "It's going to be okay," Grayson murmured. He lifted their joined hands and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. "He's strong. Like his mom." Kate looked at him. Her smile was shy, but real. Grayson smiled back with a tenderness that warmed her chest. "Uh-huh…" a voice chimed behind them, dripping sarcasm. "Apparently 'strict rest' is a very flexible concept." They turned at the same time. Eileen stoo

Four weeks had passed since the transplant. Four weeks of uncertainty, extreme caution, and silent nighttime prayers. But they had also been weeks of closeness, stolen smiles, and moments that had woven a strong bond between the three of them. That morning, the hospital room felt a little less cold. Kate sat at the edge of the bed, running her fingers through Oliver's messy hair. He wore dinosaur pajamas and held a tablet in his hands. Grayson sat on the chair by the window, flipping through a storybook he had already read three times, wearing a goofy smile as if every page were brand-new simply because Oliver looked happy. "Guess what I dreamed last night?" Oliver asked suddenly, using a mysterious tone. "What did you dream about?" Kate asked, amused. The boy looked at both of them and answered with utter seriousness. "That Dad was a soccer player and kicked the ball so hard he broke the goal… and then they kicked him out of the game for being a brute." Kate burst into lau

Kate closed the car door and let out a satisfied sigh. The crisp morning air brushed her face as she smoothed her blouse with both hands. It had been two weeks since she, Grayson, and Oliver started living together. And against every prediction… everything was perfect. Grayson had become a devoted father—patient, attentive, and sometimes too indulgent… especially with that small "detail" of giving Oliver a baby brother. He had taken it seriously. Far too seriously. The thought alone pulled a smile from her, and her cheeks warmed as she remembered the night before. A part of her had said no. But deep down, she wanted it too. She felt ready—finally—to grow their family. And as she walked toward the entrance, she made a mental note: she needed to book an appointment at the London registry office. She was going to stop the divorce process. She wanted to keep being Mrs. Maxwell. But she barely took another step when someone called her name. "Kate!" She turned, startled. Then her

"Not happy to see me, Ethan?" she purred. "No." Ethan didn't even bother to look up as he reached for his drink. The woman smiled. "You're right. You shouldn't be." He scoffed humorlessly and slammed the empty glass onto the counter. "What the hell are you doing here, Sienna?" "Relax," she replied, cool as ice. "I followed you here. Saw you drowning yourself in cheap liquor while probably plotting how to ruin their lives. But unlike you, I still have dignity… and money." Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Are you mocking me?" Sienna turned her stool toward him, leaned forward, and dropped her voice. "I want the same thing you do… to see Grayson Maxwell on his knees and Kate in pieces. Wouldn't you like to strike back? But this time… where it hurts the most." Ethan stared at her for a long moment. He didn't trust her. Obviously. But they did share the same hatred… for the same two people. That could be useful. "I'm listening," he muttered. Sienna's smile widened. "I