THE PHOTO
THE PHOTO
James's POV
\---
I pour a third cup of coffee. The house hasn't felt like mine since the engagement announcement—too quiet, like it's holding its breath.
Harrison's threat still sits where I left it: expose Elena and they'll release the photos, the "concerns," the narrative I groomed my ward. True or not, the accusation alone would ruin Anna. I've never been so rich in proof and so broke on options.
The mirror in the hallway catches me as I pass. I've lost weight—suits hanging looser, face harder.
I look away before I see David's ghost in my reflection.
My phone buzzes.
Elena: Venue confirmed. Dress fitting tomorrow.
I don't respond.
Another buzz.
Richard: Ethics inquiry scheduled. Someone filed a complaint about your past guardianship of Anna Chen. We need to talk.
I'm staring through the message when Candice knocks and steps in with her tablet.
"Mr. Reynolds… I thought you'd want to see this." She lays it on the desk like it might cut me.
A stage photo fills the screen—striking, raw. Anna in mid-motion, light carving her cheekbones, grief made beautiful.
Caption: Rising star Anna Chen delivers career-making performance in Seline. #BlackboxTheater #TheaterWeekly
My chest goes tight. I scroll through hundreds of comments.
She was incredible.
Star quality.
Where has she been hiding?
Broadway-bound.
"When was this?" My voice sounds older.
"Last night. The preview she's been rehearsing for." Candice hesitates. "I thought you'd want to know."
Last night I sat with Elena pretending to care about canapés. Anna was onstage proving she didn't need me.
I click the Theater Weekly link and read the piece three times, memorizing phrases like "career-making" and "emotionally devastating." She got everything she wanted—recognition, autonomy, proof.
Without me.
"Mr. Reynolds?" Candice's voice softens. "Are you alright?"
"She's brilliant," I whisper.
"She always was. You just gave her the space to prove it."
Did I? Or did I drive her away and she proved it despite me?
I stare at the photo. The woman on that stage isn't the girl I raised.
She's someone who doesn't need me anymore.
And maybe she never did.
My phone buzzes. Elena, again.
Elena: Dinner tonight? Honeymoon plans.
I delete it and close the tablet, but Anna's face stays burned in my vision.
Somewhere across the city, she's celebrating. And I'm here, planning a wedding to the woman blackmailing me.
My thumb hovers over Anna's contact. Still saved. Still there.
One call. Just to hear her voice. To tell her I saw the article. That I'm proud. That I—
I set the phone down.
She asked for space. She's done it in less than five weeks.
The least I can do is let her have it.
\---
Elena lets herself into the mansion at seven.
She has a key now. Came with the engagement.
"James, darling. Why didn't you answer my texts?" She's carrying wedding magazines, her belly barely showing beneath designer maternity wear.
I look at her.
Twelve weeks pregnant with Dr. Joel Mendez's child. Playing a role. Using me for her father's approval.
"I was working," I say flatly.
Elena sits across from me, graceful despite the pregnancy. "We made an agreement. The least you can do is pretend to be civil."
"An agreement." The words taste like ash. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"What would you call it?"
"Leverage. Yours."
She doesn't flinch. "We're an inch from what I want, and you're an inch from losing your job. I kept Vanessa from detonating her little bomb. I played my part. You'll play yours."
"You didn't help me," I say quietly. "You weaponized it."
"Semantics." A small, satisfied smile curves her lips. "I'm finally getting the respect I deserve from my father. The merger seals it."
"And after? After the merger closes?"
"Then we live our separate lives. I get my father's approval. You keep your company. Everyone wins."
"Except Anna."
Elena's smile sharpens. "Anna is building quite the career, I hear. That preview got excellent reviews. She'll be fine."
I stand, and my tone changes completely. "Listen very carefully. I don't care about your photo ops, your baby headlines, your father's approval. But if anything happens to her—"
"Shh." Elena's hand goes to her stomach, theatrical. "Our baby doesn't like raised voices."
I lean forward. "We both know whose baby it is."
For the first time, something tightens at the corner of her mouth. It's gone in a blink.
"Be convincing until the ink is dry," she says, rising. "After that, I don't care what you do." She picks up her bag, then glances back. "One more thing—avoid Anna until the wedding. Optics."
She leaves the magazines on the table like a threat.
I wait until I hear her car leave before I move.
My phone rings. Harrison.
I silence it.
A text follows immediately: Board meeting moved up. Ten days. Get your house in order.
Ten days. The timeline keeps shrinking. Whatever Elena and Harrison are planning, it's accelerating.
I walk to my study, open the safe. The folder sits where it's been for thirty-three days.
I have everything against Elena, but the evidence is useless.
I close the safe without touching it.
My phone rings again. Marcus.
"Not a good time," I say.
"It's about Anna."
"Marcus—"
"It's serious." Paper rustles on his end. "She's being tailed. Professional surveillance. I picked them up two nights ago."
Cold moves through me. "Vanessa?"
"Could be. Could be Elena's people. Could be someone we haven't clocked yet." He pauses. "But James, the pattern bothers me. They aren't just watching. They're mapping. Learning her routine—the theater, Daisy's apartment, her usual routes. Like they're learning how to get close."
"Keep eyes on her," I say immediately. "Discreetly. And Marcus, if they move from watching to touching, you call me before you call God."
"Already on it. One more thing." His voice shifts. "You need to rest, for your health."
I cut the call. My breath heavy.