Joanne stared at the screen. Her heart thundered against her ribs, but the rest of her body refused to move. Even blinking felt impossible.
The woman in the photo—elegant, polished, and aristocratic—had her arms draped around Jeffrey. Her head tilted just enough, lips grazing dangerously close to his cheek. And Jeffrey... he was smiling.
That sa soft, tender smile he gave Joanne in the morning when he brushed her hair back from her face.
Her fingers trembled as she enlarged the photo, desperately searching for a lie—an awkward shadow, a clumsy edit, sothing that would give her permission to disbelieve. But it looked real. Too real.
Then ca the next text.
[You really think he’ll choose you over ?]
Venom. This woman wasn’t just flaunting the photo. She knew. She knew about Joanne, knew she was with Jeffrey... and she was issuing a challenge.
Joanne lowered the phone slowly, her chest rising and falling with uneven, disbelieving breaths. The weight of doubt pressed against her like a storm cloud. She hated that this was happening. Hated that one picture, one cruel line of text had the power to unravel the fragile trust she had so carefully rebuilt.
She closed her eyes and clutched his pillow to her chest. His scent wrapped around her—warm, woodsy, unmistakably him. It comforted her, even as her heart cracked beneath its weight.
But the worst part wasn’t the picture.
It was the confidence.
That woman believed she still had a claim on him.
Joanne opened her eyes and looked again. She didn’t want to. But once the initial shock faded, her mind began working, piecing things together.
Why now? Why this picture?
She looked closer at Jeffrey—really looked. He was handso, as always, but there was sothing off. In his eyes... sothing softer, more naïve. Younger.
When was this taken?
It didn’t look recent.
Because the Jeffrey she knew now had a darkness behind his gaze, a kind of weathered strength born from pain and redemption. But in this image? He looked untouched by hardship. Like a man who hadn’t yet been broken. Who hadn’t fought to build himself back up.
Yes, it looked intimate. He even looked... in love. But there was sothing missing in his expression. Sothing she knew too well now. Sothing that only she had pulled out of him.
Was she biased? Maybe.
Still, she tossed the phone onto the bed and dropped her head onto his pillow. A dull ache pulsed behind her eyes.
She could confront him. Ask about the photo. Ask who the woman was.
But would he tell her the truth?
That was the part she couldn’t trust.
Not after how carefully he’d hidden who he really was. But she could find her. She decided to find out who she was.
Still... It hurt that she couldn’t trust Jeffrey on this.
But she was not going to leave it as it was. She reached for the phone again.
Typed just one word.
[Try]
That was it. Her answer. Her challenge.
She wasn’t giving up on him. Unless Jeffrey breaks her heart, she was not going to give up on their relationship.
Not now.
Not ever.
-----
Jeffrey finally silenced his phone after a string of relentless calls from an unknown number. He was knee-deep in a eting with Jason and Valerie, discussing the future of the company. He didn’t need distractions—not now.
Valerie, as always, had an impeccable mory. Every inspection, every visit, every ti soone had walked into Shamrock with a clipboard and a reason—she rembered it. The clerk hired by Brian Cooper had left the records a ss, but Valerie had filled in the gaps. They’d even recovered security footage from so of the more recent inspections.
Though there wasn’t video of everything, there was enough—clear evidence that inspectors had been in contact with soone during their visits. Soone who didn’t belong.
Jeffrey forwarded the footage to Noel and Benny, the journalists who had been digging into the manipulation behind the audits. It wasn’t ironclad proof yet, but it was a thread. One that, if pulled right, could unravel everything.
The regulations were still shifting—changing by the day, it seed, each adjustnt designed to trip Shamrock up. But Jeffrey wasn’t going to let them win. Not while he still had breath in his lungs and fire in his bones.
By the ti he looked up from the maze of paperwork and statutes, it was already dark outside.
Joanne.
She’d be waiting for him. He hoped she hadn’t tried to cook again; she still wasn’t supposed to stand too long. Mary had already asked him to pick up dinner from her house, knowing Joanne wouldn’t rest otherwise.
He reached for his phone, ready to call her and remind her to take it easy—when the screen lit up again.
That sa unknown number.
He hesitated, then answered. Might as well see who was trying so hard to reach him.
"So, you finally answer , Jeffrey!"
The voice hit him like a mory crashing through the surface. Familiar. Alluring. But just off enough to make his stomach twist.
"I was busy..." He kept his voice even, polite. Almost asked who it was—but sothing in him already knew. "Excuse , I was in a eting."
The voice on the other end turned into a soft, lodic chuckle.
His blood ran cold as he recognized that chuckle.
Heather Nelson.
His ex.
"Heather...?" Jeffrey swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. "How’ve you been?"
His grandfather’s warning echoed in the back of his mind, but a small, foolish hope lingered—that maybe she was just calling out of nostalgia, not malice.
"? Oh, you know..." she scoffed, light and dismissive. "But you—wow. I’m honestly impressed. Heard you found that little gold-digging b*tch."
Her voice pitched higher with excitent, as if she were sharing gossip over coffee instead of slinging venom.
Jeffrey’s brow twitched. He didn’t respond, just humd low in his throat, letting her talk. He wanted to hear her out, figure out what ga she was playing.
Heather chuckled, the sound sharp and glittering like broken glass. "That’s quite the long con you’ve got going, babe... Slipping into her bed to keep her eyes on you while you slip escaped inmates into her farm to have her killed?"
She broke into full-blown laughter, but Jeffrey felt the blood drain from his face. Her words landed like a slap—cold, calculated, and far too specific.
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