She had control over one thing in this room—herself. And that was enough.
She released a steady, measured breath before pushing the document back across the table.
“I’m not signing anything.”
The air shifted, thickening with something unspoken, something heavier than before. The temperature in the room seemed to drop even lower, aslow, creeping chill that settled into the corners, pressing against her skin like an unseen weight. The silence stretched, strained and unyielding, amplifying the unspoken threat that hung between them. Jazz refused to shiver, refused to acknowledge the shift inenergy, but she felt it—an invisible noose tightening, abattle line drawn.
Reed’s smile disappeared. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his voice becoming colder, more dangerous. “You’re making a mistake.”
Jazz met his gaze, lifting her chin, forcing herself to keep her hands steady despite the tremor threatening beneath her skin. She let the silence stretch between them, refusing to blink, refusing to waver. “Are we done here? Or are you really going to keep a pregnant woman locked up? Make that your headline?” Her voice was even, restrained, but laced with an edge—daring them to push her further, daring them to show theirhand.
Silence.
A strained, heavy stare-down.
Then, reluctantly, Reed pulled back. He exchanged a glance with Foster, something unspoken passing betweenthem.
Finally, Reed released a slow breath, his jaw tightening. “Get herout of here.”
Jazz didn’t allow herself to breathe again until the door opened. Even then, it wasn’t relief that filled her—it was resolve, cold and unshakable. She stepped through, feeling the intensity of their stares on her back, but she didn’t look back. She wouldn’t give them that. They thought they had rattled her, had chipped away at something vital. But they hadn’t. If anything, they had only strengthened her resolve. She wasn’t walking away defeated.
She was walking away ready. Ready to fight for what was hers. Ready to protect what mattered. They had tried to shake her, to plant seeds of doubt, to make her believe she was standing alone. But they had failed. Because now, more than ever, she knew exactly where she stood. And she wasn’t afraid.
Several minutes later, Jazz stood outside the Federal building, the cold air biting at her skin as she dug her phone from her bag and typed in the ride request. The chill settled into her bones, but it wasn’t just the weather—it was because of what hadjust happened.
The interrogation had been worse than she’d expected. They had peeled her life apart, layer by layer, twisting her love for Titus into something ugly, something she didn’t even recognize.
She groaned, her breath visible in the cold morning air. She needed a moment to process. Amoment to breathe.
The doctor’s office was the logical next step. She could get confirmation, reassurance. Her pregnancy was the one bright spot in the chaos of the last twenty-four hours, the only thing that felt undeniably right. It gave her a sense of purpose in a world that seemed to be unraveling aroundher.
No matter what happened next, no matter what the Feds, the Senator, or even Titus did, this child was hers—something pure, something untouched by the struggles raging aroundher.
The thought strengthened her, solidified her resolve. She wasn’t just fighting for herself anymore. She was fighting for them. But everything surrounding it—the tangled web of lies, the looming threats, the waythe Feds had weaponized it before she’d even had the chance to tell Titus herself—was suffocating. And she would wake up to find everything back to normal. But deep down, she knew the truth—there was no going back. No easy wayout.
Her thumb hovered over the ride request. No. The doctor could wait. There was something more pressing, something that clenched in her gut with the force of certainty.
The Senator.
She gripped the phone. The idea of Titus being manipulated, forced into a role he didn’t choose—it enraged her. He was strong, hard, but even he had his limits, and she had just seen firsthand how far Senator Vex and the Feds were willing to go. They were coming for Titus. They had already set their traps.
And Jazz wasn’t about to let themwin.
She canceled the ride request and started walking.
TheSenator was next.
Fifteen minutes later, Jazz’s heels echoed like gunshots on the marble floors of the Senator’s office, each quick click a declaration that she wasn’t here to be dismissed. The space around her felt designed to intimidate—the dark wood paneling, the towering bookshelves filled with knowledge meant to keep men like him in office, the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city like he owned it. Afortress of wealth, of untouchability.
She didn’t care.
Jazz barely made it through the reception area before the Senator’s assistant, atightly wound woman with intense eyes, stepped into her path. Jazz knew the type—efficient, loyal, and just self-important enough to think she had real authority. The kind of person who acted as a gatekeeper, believing access to their boss made them significant.
And right now, this woman was looking at Jazz like an inconvenience, aproblem to be handled before it reached the Senator’s desk. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked, her tone clipped, already reachingfor the phone as if she could summon security at a moment’s notice.
“No,” Jazz said smoothly, her smile tight. “But I think the Senator will want to see me.”
The assistant didn’t look convinced. “He’s busy—”
