NOVA POV
Sam sat across from at the small kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee he hadn’t touched. I’d made it for sothing to do with my hands, so semblance of normalcy before I shattered everything.
"You’re scaring ," he said quietly. "Just tell what’s going on."
I looked at this man who’d spent six years of his life loving a ghost. Who’d built cribs for my babies and taught them how to ride bikes and kissed like I was precious. Who deserved so much better than what I was about to give him.
"My na isn’t Elizabeth Moore," I said.
The words hung in the air between us. Sam’s expression didn’t change imdiately, like his brain needed a mont to process what I’d just said.
"What?"
"My na is Nova Hart. Elizabeth Moore is... she’s not real. I made her up. The ID, the social security number—it’s all fake."
Sam set down his mug slowly, deliberately. "I don’t understand."
"Six years ago, I was a different person. I was in college on a full scholarship. I had friends. I had a future. And then..." My voice cracked. "And then I made a mistake. A big one. And my entire life fell apart."
"What kind of mistake?"
I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t watch his face as I confessed everything. So I stared at my hands instead.
"I fell in love with soone I shouldn’t have. Soone older. Soone... complicated. And his daughter—my best friend—she found out. She was angry. So she destroyed ."
"How?"
"She had soone record us. and her dad together in an intimate session. And she leaked it to my school, to my sponsors, to everyone. My scholarship was revoked. I was expelled. My reputation was... I beca a joke. A scandal. The sex tape girl who fucked her best friend’s dad."
I heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath, but I couldn’t stop now. The truth was pouring out after six years of holding it in.
"I found out I was pregnant the day I left. Took three pregnancy tests in a shitty motel bathroom and realized I was carrying the baby of a man I could never see again. So I ran. I bought a fake ID, changed my na, and disappeared. And I beca Elizabeth Moore."
"The boys," Sam said, his voice tight. "Their father—"
"Doesn’t know they exist. He doesn’t know where I am. No one does. Or... no one did." I finally looked up at him. "That phone call was from my old roommate. My godmother died. And apparently there are people looking for ."
Sam’s face was pale. "People? What people?"
"I don’t know. Maybe him. Maybe his daughter. Maybe no one. But I have to go back. I have to handle my godmother’s affairs and figure out who’s asking questions and—" I stopped, my throat closing up. "And I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry. You deserved the truth from the beginning, but I was scared and selfish and—"
"Stop." Sam’s voice cut through my spiral. "Just stop for a second."
I stopped.
He ran his hands through his hair, a gesture I’d seen a thousand tis when he was trying to work through sothing. "So for six years, I’ve been calling you by the wrong na."
"Yes."
"And everything you told about your past was a lie."
"Yes."
"And the boys’ father—this man you loved—he’s so rich older guy who doesn’t know his sons exist."
"Yes." The word felt like acid in my throat.
Sam was quiet for a long mont. Then: "Does he know you were pregnant when you left?"
"No. I found out after. I left my phone in that motel room with the pregnancy tests. I don’t know if he ever found them or if he’s even looking for anymore. It’s been six years. He probably moved on."
"And you?" Sam’s eyes t mine, and the hurt there made want to die. "Have you moved on?"
The question hung between us. Have you moved on?
I thought about Grant. About the way he’d looked at like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. About his hands on my skin and his voice in my ear and the way he’d made feel alive and terrified and completely consud.
And then I thought about Sam. About six years of quiet stability. About goodnight texts and homade cribs and patient kisses. About a man who’d never asked for anything except the chance to care for .
"I don’t know," I whispered. "I thought I had. I thought Elizabeth Moore had moved on. But Nova Hart..." I shook my head. "I don’t know who she is anymore. I don’t know if she ever really moved on or if she’s just been hiding."
Sam nodded slowly, like he’d expected that answer. "What was his na? The father."
"Sam—"
"I need to know. If I’m competing with a ghost, I need to know his na."
"You’re not competing with—"
"His na, Elizabeth. Or Nova. Or whoever you are." There was an edge to his voice now, frustration bleeding through. "Tell his na."
"Grant," I said quietly. "Grant Calloway."
Sam’s eyes widened. "The billionaire? That Grant Calloway?"
"You know him?"
"Everyone knows him. He’s been in the news for years. Business acquisitions, hostile takeovers..." Sam stopped, realization dawning. "He’s been looking for you. All this ti, he’s been looking for you."
My stomach dropped. "What?"
"There were articles. Years ago. About him searching for so missing woman. They never released her na, but there were rumors about a scandal at a college, a viral video..." He stared at . "That was you. You’re the woman he’s been searching for."
I couldn’t breathe. Grant had been looking for . For years and my stupid heart is thrilled about this.
"I didn’t know," I whispered. "I threw away my phone. I changed my na. I thought he’d give up, thought he’d—"
"He didn’t give up." Sam’s voice was flat. "And now you have to go back."
"I don’t have to—"
"Yes, you do." Sam stood up, pacing. "Your godmother is dead. People are asking questions. If you don’t handle this, they’ll keep digging. And eventually, they’ll find you. Find the boys."
"I know." My hands were shaking. "That’s why I have to go. But Sam, I need you to understand—"
"What do I need to understand, Nova?" The way he said my real na sounded wrong in his mouth.
"That the woman I’ve loved for six years doesn’t exist?" I knew he loved but I didn’t expect the confirmation during a conversation like this. "That the boys I’ve raised call Dad but they have a billionaire father who doesn’t know they exist? That you kissed tonight while you’re still in love with another man?"
"That’s not fair—"
"Fair?" Sam laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You want to talk about fair? I’ve given you six years. Six years of patience and support and love, and you couldn’t even tell your real na."
"I was trying to protect you—"
"Bullshit. You were protecting yourself." He stopped pacing, his eyes boring into mine. "You were hiding. And you let fall in love with a lie."
The words hurt but they were true because he was right. God, he was right.
"I’m sorry," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "Sam, I’m so sorry. You deserved better than this. You deserved the truth from the beginning, but I was scared and—"
"I know you were scared. I know sothing happened to you. I’ve always known you were running from sothing." His voice softened slightly. "But I thought when you were ready, you’d tell . I thought you trusted ."
"I do trust you—"
"Then why didn’t you tell ?" The pain in his voice broke . "Why couldn’t you trust with the truth?"
"Because if I told you the truth, Elizabeth would disappear. And she’s the only version of that gets to be happy. The only version that gets to have you and the boys and this quiet life. Nova Hart..." I shook my head. "Nova Hart ruins everything she touches."
Sam stared at for a long mont. Then he walked over, crouched down in front of my chair, and took my hands in his.
"Listen to ," he said, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes. "I don’t care if your na is Nova or Elizabeth or Jane Doe. I don’t care about your past or your scandal or your mistakes. What I care about is that you lied to for six years. And I need ti to process that."
"Sam—"
"But I also care about those two boys sleeping in the other room. They’re my sons in every way that matters. And I’m not abandoning them, no matter what happens between us." He squeezed my hands. "So you’re going to go handle your godmother’s affairs. You’re going to figure out who’s looking for you and deal with whatever you need to deal with. And I’m going to stay with you and take care of Phoenix and Asher."
"You’d do that?"
"Of course I’d do that. They’re my kids." His voice cracked slightly. "Even if their father is a billionaire who’s been searching for them for six years."
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. "Thank you."
"Don’t thank yet." Sam stood up, letting go of my hands. "When you co back—if you co back—we’re going to have a long conversation about trust and honesty and what the hell we’re doing here. But right now, you need to go. Before whoever’s looking for you shows up here."
He was right. I knew he was right.
"When do I leave?" I asked.
"Tomorrow. I’ll take the boys for the weekend. Tell them you have a work trip or sothing. Don’t tell them the truth until you know what you’re dealing with."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Sam headed toward the door, then stopped. Without turning around, he said, "One more question."
"Anything."
"If Grant Calloway shows up and wants his sons back, what are you going to do?"
The question hung in the air. "I don’t know," I whispered.
Sam nodded once, like that was the answer he’d expected. Then he left, the door closing softly behind him.
I sat alone in my kitchen, surrounded by the life I’d built as Elizabeth Moore, and realized I had less than twenty-four hours before I had to beco Nova Hart again.
And I had no idea if Nova Hart would survive what ca next.
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