For a moment, I breathe again. We’re drawing a line.

  But we both know it’s only a matter of time before Tyson McRae crosses it.

  Chapter 12

  Magnolia Steel

  My phone buzzes on the countertop, screen lighting up with a familiar name and an even more familiar photo—Violet, grinning wide with a glass of red in one hand, and with the other, flipping off the camera.

  So Violet.

  I smile, and swipe right before the second ring. “Hey, stranger.”

  “Well, well,” she says, her voice crackling through the speaker. “Still have all your hair, I see. I guess wedding planning hasn’t broken you yet. How’s that going?”

  I let out a long exhale and lean my hip against the kitchen counter, cradling the phone so I can see her face better. “Fast and furious. Wedding planning is a beautiful tornado made of tulle and deadlines. A bit overwhelming.”

  She snorts. “So… basically perfect.”

  I laugh, because yeah—she’s not wrong. “I have a dress. At least that much has been accomplished.”

  “You don’t have any ole dress. You have the perfect dress.”

  I grin at her. “Yeah, I do love my dress. It took a few tries and a minor identity crisis, but it’s the one.”

  Her voice softens. “Of course it is. You’ve always had an eye for beautiful things.”

  I’m so glad Alex brought Violet to Sydney. I don’t think I could’ve said yes to the dress without her here, giving me that quiet little nod that said, You’ve found the one.

  “Tell me about the flowers.”

  I groan. “The planner is pushing for white ranunculus. I want white hydrangeas and pale pink roses. You know they’re my favorites.”

  She grins. “And what does your beloved say about the flower saga?”

  “I tried to talk to Alex about it, but he’s not interested.”

  “To be fair, he’s a man. I’d have questions if he cared about the floral pieces.”

  But even as we laugh, even as the rhythm of us settles in again… there’s something soft beneath her smile. A hesitation.

  I don’t know what it is yet—but I sense it coming.

  Violet twists her lips, trying for casual but not quite landing it. “So… Gabby told me you two had a little heart-to-heart.”

  I raise a brow. “So much for her intense privacy policy.”

  “She said you were gracious, which I translated as you didn’t rip her a new one.”

  I laugh. “I was civil.”

  Violet blinks. “Civil, huh?”

  “She offered me my job back.”

  That does it—Violet full-on cackles. “Of course she did. You and Alex are the golden couple that saved her struggling Australian branch. You’re the PR dream she didn’t deserve.”

  I swirl the last sip of coffee in my mug, watching it settle. “Yeah, well. She may want redemption, but I’m not handing out second chances.”

  A knowing expression flickers across Violet’s face. “Never expected you to. That’s one of the first things I learned about you. Once someone breaks your trust, you’re done. And you don’t look back.”

  I nod. “She apologized, and I believe she meant it, but that doesn’t mean I forget. I’ll always want the best for her, but I’ll never work for her again.”

  Violet lifts her wine glass toward the screen. “To clean breaks and better beginnings.”

  “Amen to that.”

  Violet swirls the wine in her glass, but her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes this time.

  “What’s going on, Vi? You’ve gone quiet.”

  She hesitates, gaze drifting off for a second before landing back on me. “Ever since I got back to Charleston… something is off.”

  “Off how?”

  She leans back in her chair with a sigh. “It’s as if I’ve stepped back into a version of my life that doesn’t quite fit anymore.”

  I recognize that look on her face, the something’s missing ache behind her eyes.

  “It’s more than that, though,” she adds, her voice softening. “It’s not just a vibe. It’s this constant ache telling me I left the best parts of me somewhere else. Two parts, actually.”

  “Two?”

  She huffs a laugh. “You and Elias.”

  That draws me up straighter. “Elias, huh?”

  “I have a crazy idea.” Her smile turns shy, but the glimmer in her eyes says it’s real. “I’m considering putting in for a transfer. Soul Sync Australia has open positions.”

  She pauses.

  “I may want to move to Sydney.”

  I blink. “Wait, do you mean full-time? With bags and furniture and feelings?”

  Violet laughs. “Yes, full-time. With bags. And possibly feelings.”

  Her eyes search mine through the screen. “Are you really happy there?”

  I don’t hesitate. “I’m beyond happy. The life I’m building here isn’t just some fairy tale I stumbled into. It’s real. I’m rooted. Challenged. Loved. But I’d be lying if I said that being this far from you didn’t hurt.”

  Violet doesn’t speak right away. She doesn’t have to. I see it in the way her smile shifts, in the way only your best friend can hear what you don’t say out loud.

  “That’s been the hardest part. Everything else, I’ve figured out. But missing you?” I shake my head. “That part doesn’t get easier.”

  Violet’s lips curve, a little sad, a little hopeful. “Then maybe we do something about that.”

  “Do you think you could leave your whole life behind and start fresh in a different country?”

  Violet leans back, eyes flicking upward, thinking. “I had hoped that sleeping with Elias again would scratch the itch I had. But it wasn’t casual—not for me. Being with him in Sydney was good. It felt right.” She pauses, tracing the rim of her glass with one finger. “But how will I ever know if he’s the one if I’m not with him to explore our connection?”

  “Have you told him you’re considering moving?”

  She winces. “Absolutely not. He’d assume I’m doing it for him.”

  I lift a brow. “You would be doing it for him.”

  Violet groans. “Exactly. That might freak him out. I don’t want to ruin what we had—or what we could have—by making it weird. What if he thinks I’m chasing him across the globe because I’m some lovesick lunatic?”

  “Or maybe he sees you as a brave, emotionally mature woman who knows what she wants and goes after it.”

  She narrows her eyes. “I liked it better when you were just choosing between hydrangeas and ranunculus.”

  I smile. “Do you want me to feel things out with Elias for you?”

  Violet perks up. “Ooh. A secret mission?”

  “Exactly, using spy-level skills.”

  Her grin is quick and real. “Full-on interrogation mode but in the most subtle way?”

  I smile. “All right. I’ll casually grill my soon-to-be brother-in-law about his long-term romantic intentions without making it sound like I’m on assignment.”

  She points at me through the screen. “Exactly. Perfect.”

  I shake my head, half laughing. “But no pressure or anything.”

  “None.”

  Violet’s lightness fades as her smile falters, and she sighs. “I’m tired, Mags. Of swiping left and right, of awkward small talk, of first dates that make me wish I’d just stayed home with sushi and Netflix. I’m one more awful date away from getting twelve cats.”

  “Please don’t do that. You deserve someone who feels like home.”

  Her gaze softens. “That might be Elias. I’ve never felt this before.”

  A beat of quiet, then she laughs. “Wouldn’t it be kind of perfect if our babies were cousins?”

  My chest tightens with affection. “You don’t know how much I would love that.”

  Violet lifts her glass. “To big moves and even bigger what-ifs.”

  I raise my mug of cold coffee in return. “To new chapters.”

  We end the call, and I set my phone down, my heart full. Maybe Violet coming to Sydney won’t just change her life. Maybe it’ll complete mine as well.

  Chapter 13

  Magnolia Steel

  The restaurant is dim and polished, all brass accents and low candlelight. A place designed to seduce with sophistication. Fitting, I suppose.

  I sit in a private corner booth, posture poised, breath steady, but my pulse is a war drum beneath my skin. I lift my glass and take a slow sip of wine. On the outside––calm, composed, untouchable.

  Inside, I’m buzzing. Not with nerves. With resolve.

  Alex would burn the world down to protect me. I’ve seen it in his eyes whenever Celeste’s name comes up or at the mention of Tyson. But this meeting isn’t about Tyson. It’s about her.

  This is about shutting the door—for good—on a chapter I don’t want bleeding into the life Alex and I are building. I’m not here to make peace. I’m here to draw the line. Because I love him too much to let old ghosts haunt what we’re creating. And if telling her to fuck off forever protects that peace, I’ll do it with a smile on my face.

  Even if it means sitting down with the last woman on earth I ever want to see again.

  The hostess leads her in from across the restaurant, and Celeste follows with a stride that suggests the world parts for her on command. She’s walking as though she’s the best thing since champagne on ice, looking every inch the cover of Vogue Sydney. Sculpted blazer. Impeccable blowout. Lipstick sharp enough to draw blood.

  She hasn’t seen me yet. But then she does. And in an instant, the shine slips for a moment. A single breath.

  Surprise. Confusion. A flicker of fear.

  Her manicured fingers tighten around the strap of her bag.

  “Celeste.” I nod to the seat across from me. “Sit down. We need to talk—woman to woman.”

  She doesn’t move.

  “I know. You were expecting Krishna. I asked her to invite you on my behalf since I was certain you wouldn’t show for me. She’s not coming. It’s only you and me.”

  Her mouth opens. Closes. A slow blink. Then, without a word, she slides into the booth across from me, the stiffness in her spine giving her away.

  I rest my hands together on the table. “This ends today.”

  She doesn’t flinch, not right away—but her silence is a crack in the armor. One I’ve been waiting for.

  I don’t waste time. I don’t need to scream to be heard.

  “This campaign you’re on to win Alex back is more than old, Celeste. It’s pathetic.”

  Her jaw tightens, but she still doesn’t speak. Funny. She’s always had plenty to say in the past.

  I press on. “He didn’t leave you because I came along. He left because he was already gone. Emotionally, mentally—done. I didn’t break you up. You were over long before I entered the picture.”

  She swallows hard, and I watch her fingers curl around the edge of the tablecloth.

  “And all of this—the way you show up at Soul Sync, those magically timed accidental run-ins, the white dress at our engagement party––you’re not making a statement. You’re making a scene.”

  Her eyes flash, but I don’t let her interrupt.

  “I don’t say these things to humiliate you, but I do say them so you’ll understand. It’s time you accept the truth.” I lean in. “He will never choose you. Can’t you see that?”

  There. A tremor. The slightest tremble of her chin.

  She blinks hard and looks away. And for a breath, she looks… breakable.

  I hadn’t expected that.

  My voice softens. “I’m not trying to be cruel. I understand what it is to love Alex Sebring.”

  She cuts me off. “I don’t love Alex.”

  The words land with a thud. Not because they’re harsh but because they make no sense.

  I blink. “What?”

  She exhales hard, and her sharp edges crumble.

  “It’s Tyson,” she says, her voice low. Raw. “It’s always been Tyson. And you’re right about something—this ends today.”

  My stomach drops, and my spine straightens. The name alone shifts something in the surrounding air.

  I narrow my eyes. “What does Tyson have to do with any of this?”

  Celeste swallows. “Right after Alex and I broke up, Tyson found me. I was vulnerable, humiliated… and he made me feel wanted. Needed. I was in a bad place.”

  Damn. That sounds familiar.

  She glances around the restaurant and leans in, voice trembling. “We dated for a brief time. I thought he was harmless. Until he wasn’t.”

  I don’t breathe.

  Fuck.

  “He used me,” she whispers. “Every question, every compliment—he was only after one thing. Information about Alex. He wanted anything he could use.”

  My lips part, but no sound comes.

  “And then he started his collection. Nudes I sent, videos of us having sex—things I wasn’t aware he was recording. He’d ask me to send him videos of myself doing things, which I did because I’m stupid. I don’t even know everything he has on me. But it’s enough to destroy me.”

  Disgust rises in my throat.

  “He’s been blackmailing me ever since. Threatening to release it all if I don’t do what he says. He’ll ruin my name, destroy my career, humiliate me in ways I’ll never recover from.”

  She looks me dead in the eye. “Everything I’ve done to you and Alex was because of him. He told me to get between you and Alex and stir up drama. Become a wedge between you.”

  Silence falls between us. For a moment, I can’t speak. The entire script I thought I knew just got flipped.

  Celeste Worthington: perfectly pressed, perfectly poised, and until now, perfectly loathed.

  But the woman sitting across from me? She’s unraveling. Her mascara might not be smudged yet, but the armor she wears is cracking, splintering.

  Every piece of this insane puzzle is shifting.

  The villain in my story has a villain of her own. And I hate how much sense it makes.

  Her voice cuts through the silence, quieter now. Barely holding.

  “I’m not proud of what I did to Alex.” She shakes her head. “The video I leaked—God. I was angry, shocked, embarrassed, hurt. The way he looked at me when I showed him that positive pregnancy test?” Her throat works around the shame. “It was clear he didn’t want it. Not with me. And I hated him for that.”

  She pauses, and when she looks up, I see it—regret. The real kind that sticks.

  “I regret that video every day. And worse than filming it was posting it. I had no right.” Her voice trembles. “No one deserves that.”

  She dabs beneath one eye with the pad of her finger, reclaiming the mask as though it never slipped. But I see her now for the first time.

  “Alex doesn’t deserve this,” she says, gaze locked on mine. “Neither of you do. And if there’s anything I can do to help you take Tyson down…” She swallows. “I will do it.”

  “You’d really help us?”

  She doesn’t hesitate. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  “But you’re scared. I see it.”

  She nods once. “Terrified. He has everything he needs to ruin me. And the scariest part? He’s not just manipulative—he’s unhinged. Smart, too. That kind of intelligence makes him dangerous. Don’t underestimate him.”

  I sit back in my seat, processing.

  This isn’t forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  But the truth is a step. And suddenly, the war I thought I was fighting with Celeste has become something else entirely.

  Something bigger.

  Something darker.

  Something we may have to fight together.

  For all the things I imagined this meeting being—icy, bitter, explosive—this wasn’t it. I expected venom. Not vulnerability. I expected another power play. Not a woman cracking down the middle.

  I pity her.

  “I’m sorry he’s doing this to you. No one deserves that.”

  Celeste looks at me, eyes dark and glassy. Maybe because she’s already given too much. Or maybe because this is what it looks like when the last thread of pride is unraveling and you’re too tired to gather it back up.

  No longer adversaries, not quite allies—just two women bound by a man who’s done too much damage.

  I don’t trust her. Not completely. Probably not ever. But this part? The broken, shaken confession? I believe it. And that scares me more than anything she could’ve said.

  I nod once. “If you’re serious—if you want to help us stop him—then we’ll find a way.”

  Celeste draws in a sharp breath.

  I hold her gaze. “I need time to figure things out. To plan. This can’t be something we rush—we only get one shot to do this right. And if he really is as dangerous as you say, we’ll need to be smart about it.”

  Her mouth presses into a thin line. She gives a slow, trembling nod. “You must be careful with him. He doesn’t just break people. He buries them alive.”

  She stands, collecting her bag. “We’ll cross paths again—Tyson’s not done, and neither are we.”

  And when she’s gone, I let my shoulders relax. Because I don’t know what’s more terrifying—that she told the truth or that I must figure out what to do with it.

  I close my eyes for a breath.

  Tyson’s reach is deeper than I thought. Dirtier. Meaner.

  And if Celeste—ice queen and spotlight darling—can be reduced to a pawn in his twisted game, what hope do the rest of us have?

  For the first time since this began, I realize something.

  Tyson isn’t circling me.

  He’s circling all of us.

  Chapter 14

  Alex Sebring

  The turf still smells like sweat and grass. Like grit. Like home.

  I drop to the ground, back flat on the pitch, and let the burn in my legs settle. It’s not a bad kind of pain—it’s the kind that confirms you’re fighting your way back. Slowly. Gratefully. One sprint at a time.