Page 25 of Velvet Corruption

“Of course,” I said. “That’ll give me more time to prepare for court.”

Julian nodded, already flipping through Rosie’s planner after he grabbed it off the kitchen counter. “I see you have a busy week, kiddo.”

Rosie beamed. “Yeah, lots of tests and projects.”

I couldn’t hold it in. “She’s not your assistant, Julian. She’s a kid.”

He looked at me, his hazel eyes cool. “I’m just trying to help, Ruby.”

“Help her, or control her?” I said, standing up. “She needs balance, not a corporate agenda. Where’s the time for her to just be a kid?”

Julian closed the planner with a snap. “You know how I work, Ruby. Structure is important—for her and for you. Someone in this family has to keep everything on track while you’re off campaigning.”

I flinched. “Rosie needs time to be a kid.”

“She has time. Don’t worry,” he continued, “I’ll make sure Rosie is taken care of while you’re out saving the world.”

“Julian—“

“Don’t fight,” Rosie said, her gaze bouncing between us like she was the adult in the room. “Please.”

We both turned to her, our beautiful daughter, the one true constant in the shifting sands of our lives. She stood there, small and resolute, the weight of our words pressing down on her fragile shoulders.

“Sweetie, we’re not fighting,” I said, though we all knew it was a lie. “We’re just talking.”

“Yeah,” Julian added. “Just grown-up talking.”

Rosie didn’t look convinced, but she shrugged and walked toward the door. “I’m gonna be late.”

I cleared the table, thinking about how every interaction with Julian had become a negotiation, a power play. Once, we had been partners, equals. Now, it felt like we were on opposite sides.

As they sped off, I took a deep breath and tried to steel myself for the day ahead. I had battles to fight, both in the courtroom and at home.

I had work to do. A campaign to win. This drama with Julian…it was just going to have to wait.

***

I settled into a corner of the coffee shop, spreading out my campaign notes on the small table. Alek would meet me here later, and I was munching on a lemon scone and drinking a cappuccino.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the hum of conversation provided a welcome contrast to the controlled atmosphere of my house. I sipped my latte, trying to focus on the upcoming debate, but the morning’s events weighed heavily on my mind.

We might not have been officially divorced, but we would be soon. Julian hadn’t signed Rosie’s birth certificate, he hadn’t adopted her legally–it had never felt necessary. I really hopedI wouldn’t have to use the “she’s not actually your daughter” defense with him–of course, that was something Julian knew–but if he wanted to take Rosie away, I was more than ready to fight dirty.

I told myself not to be paranoid. For all his faults, Julian loved Rosie.

The warmth of the coffee shop seeped into me, loosening the tight knot in my chest. I loved this place, with its mismatched furniture and chalkboard menus. It had character, something the new house sorely lacked. For a moment, I allowed myself to simply breathe and take in the energy around me.

The door chime rang, and I looked up thinking it might be Alek.

Then my heart slammed to a halt.

Because it wasn’t Alek. It was Kieran fucking Callahan.

He stood just inside the doorway, scanning the room like he didn’t already know exactly what he was looking for. He had the same calm swagger as always, but time had aged him beautifully; he was leaner, stronger, more dangerous in that effortless way some men age into, like the world carved them out on purpose.

Eight years. And somehow, he looked even better.

Jesus.

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