I watch her reflection in the window as she takes a deep, shaky breath. Her eyes close for a moment, and I can almost see her weighing everything—the past, the present, what we could lose, what we might gain. I want to cross the room, to touch her, to ask for forgiveness I’m not sure I deserve—but I wait. When she finally turns to face me, there's something different in her eyes. Not just fear, but determination.
"No more secrets," she says, her voice stronger now. "If we’re walking into war, we walk in side by side. All the way."
The fierce certainty in her voice hits me like a physical blow. This isn't just acceptance; it's a choice. A declaration. She's choosing us, choosing to fight, even though she knows exactly what we're up against.
"Together," I promise, reaching for her. This time she comes willingly, though her heart still races against my chest. "No more secrets. No more letting them divide us. That's how they won last time."
We walk back to the dining room together, where Ethan's pretending he hasn't been eavesdropping. But as Isabella settles beside me, her shoulder pressed against mine, I feel something shift in the air between us. Something stronger than fear.
Whatever's in these files, whatever battle we're about to face, we're ready.
Because some loves are worth fighting for.
And ours? Ours is worth winning for.
26
Bella
The familiar bell jingles overhead as I push open the door to Joe's Diner, sunlight streaming through the windows in golden morning ribbons. My fingers absently twist the chunky silver ring on my hand—an abstract piece that captures my artistic soul in swirls of polished metal. Ares surprised me with it this morning, his eyes dancing with that signature Saint mischief that still makes my heart stumble.
"For the amazing artist who will one day conquer the art world," he'd murmured, sliding it onto my finger with that devastating smirk that makes my knees weak, even hours later. His lips had brushed my knuckles afterward, a gesture so tender it nearly undid me.
The new ring sits beside my grandmother's, two important pieces of jewelry that represent everything that matters to me—my past and my future, side by side on my fingers. One a reminder of where I came from, the other a promise of where I'm going.
It's been almost two weeks of strange silence from the Saint family. The media attention has faded to occasional whispers, and as far as I know, Ares hasn't received any texts or calls from his parents. Maybe they've finally accepted that their son isn't coming back to the fold. Maybe they've moved on to other schemes that don't involve destroying what we're building together.
Relief washes through me at the thought, though something uneasy still simmers beneath the surface—a lifetime of wariness doesn't disappear overnight. But I push the feeling away, burying it under gratitude for the present. We deserve this happiness, this pocket of peace we've carved out together. Whatever comes next, we'll face it together.
Alisha waves from our usual booth, the twins strapped in their double high chair beside her. My steps feel lighter than they have in years, my body still humming from this morning's passionate encounter that left me breathless and sated. The scent of coffee and warm pastries wraps around me like a comfortable blanket, matching the contentment that's settled deep in my bones.
"Hey, little monsters," I coo, bending down to kiss Axel and Harley's chubby cheeks. Harley giggles and reaches for my hair with sticky fingers, while Axel studies me with those serious eyes that are pure Cole—watchful and intense, even at two and a half.
"Bella! Bella come!" Harley squeals, bouncing in her seat and clapping her hands together. "Look! I got sammich!"
She holds up what used to be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, now more of an abstract art piece smeared across her fingers and face.
Axel, meanwhile, carefully picks apart his own sandwich with surgical precision. "No crusts," he announces solemnly, placing each discarded piece in a neat pile on his tray. "Crusts yucky."
"That's right, sweeties. Bella's here." I give Harley's tiny hand a gentle squeeze, careful of the peanut butter stickiness, before sliding into the booth across from Alisha. "And I see you're both making quite the mess."
“Harley big girl!” Harley declares proudly, managing to get more jelly on her shirt than in her mouth.
"Jesus Christ," Alisha says, eyeing me over her coffee mug with that sharp, knowing look she's perfected through years of friendship. "You look like you've been mainlining sunshine and orgasms. Ares Saint is clearly doing wonders for your female hormones."
Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I can't suppress the smile that seems permanently etched on my face these days. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please." She sets down her mug with an emphatic clink. "You're practically glowing. And that's not just because you've had a good painting session. That's the look of a woman who's been thoroughly and expertly satisfied."
I try to contain my grin but fail miserably. The happiness bubbles up inside me, too big to contain, like champagne fizzing over the rim of a glass. "Fine. Things are good. Really good."
"How good?" Alisha leans forward, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Like, 'the sex is amazing' good or 'I'm thinking about forever' good?"
"Both?" I laugh, feeling free, like I could float right up to the ceiling and dance among the hanging lights. "I never thought I'd say this, but he's... different now. Still arrogant as hell sometimes, but he listens. Really listens. He sees me in ways no one else ever has."
"And?" Alisha wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Don't hold out on me. What else does the mighty Ares Saint do that's got you walking on clouds and wearing that 'I've been ravished' smile?"
"And he does this thing with his—"
