82
Kingsley slammed the door behind him as he entered the mansion. The echo bounced off the tall glass walls like the thunder inside his chest. He didn’t hesitate. He moved quickly, pulling out his suitcase from the hallway closet.
Every motion felt purposeful. Final.
He packed methodically—clothes, charger, toiletries—his hands shaking with urgency. He barely paused to think, except for one brief moment when his fingers touched a folded photograph of him and Katherine, once taken in secret at the retreat. She had been laughing. He had been staring at her like she was his entire future.
She still is.
He zipped up the bag and grabbed his phone.
“Call Aaron,” he commanded, dialing his assistant.
Aaron picked up immediately. “Sir?”
“I need a flight to Brooklyn. Book it immediately.”
There was a short pause.
“Sir… all commercial flights to Brooklyn today are either full or delayed until tomorrow night. There’s no available seat until then.”
Kingsley shut his eyes, jaw tightening.
“Fine,” he said. “Get the jet ready. I’m flying private.”
Another pause—longer this time. “Sir, um… we haven’t used the Gulfstream in months. It’s in the hangar, and we’d need at least—”
“I don’t care what it needs,” Kingsley snapped. “It’s urgent. I need to get there tonight.”
Aaron sighed. “Okay. I’ll notify the crew and make the arrangements now. You’ll be cleared for takeoff within the hour.”
Kingsley ended the call without another word.
He grabbed his keys and suitcase and was already halfway to the front door when—
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Beth.
She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, lips painted, rage controlled by a single thread of pride. Her eyes scanned the suitcase. The fire in them sparked.
“Don’t tell me,” she said coldly, “you’re seriously going to meet that girl.”
Kingsley met her gaze without flinching. “Watch me.”
Beth stepped in front of him. “You’ll walk out on your wife and run off to Brooklyn to beg another woman? Are you even hearing yourself?”
“I hear myself perfectly,” Kingsley replied. “For the first time in years, I actually hear myself. And I’m going to beg her, yes. Because she’s the one who matters.”
Beth scoffed. “You’re losing your mind. You sound insane.”
Kingsley stepped past her, grabbing his coat. “Then you’ll see just how crazy I can get. You destroyed my last chance with her. But I’m not giving up. Not like this.”
Beth’s voice trembled with fury. “You’ll regret this.”
He opened the door and turned, his words like steel. “The only thing I regret is not walking out sooner.”
And then—he was gone.
The night sky shimmered in deep navy. The sleek body of the Gulfstream jet gleamed under the tarmac lights. The engines purred, ready. His crew greeted him with silent professionalism.
Kingsley boarded without a word, slumping into the leather seat near the window.
The door closed behind him.
As the engines roared and the jet ascended into the sky, he looked out at the clouds. The city lights faded below.
Brooklyn.
Her.
He would beg until his knees gave out.
Because for the first time in his life, he had something worth fighting for.
And he was not going to lose her.
The jet touched down in Brooklyn under a velvet-black sky, stars faint above the city haze. As the aircraft slowed along the private runway, Kingsley sat still, his hands clasped between his knees, gaze empty.
When the doors opened, his assistant moved to approach, but Kingsley raised a hand, sharp and final.
“Nobody follows me. I need to do this alone.”
His security hesitated, eyes flicking to one another, but his tone left no room for debate.
Wearing a plain black cap pulled low, a grey hoodie, fitted jeans, and sneakers—nothing that hinted at the Manhattan mogul he was—Kingsley blended in with the city’s quiet night. A single duffel bag was slung over his shoulder. No tailored suit, no polished shoes, no bodyguards. Just a man stripped down to the ache in his chest.
He walked to the airport gate and hailed a yellow cab, his voice low as he gave the address.
“The Quiet Brew Cafe. Spring Street.”
The cab took off. Brooklyn buzzed with soft nightlife—the occasional honk, restaurant laughter echoing from corner patios, a siren wailing somewhere distant. But in Kingsley’s mind, there was only her.
When the cab turned the corner onto the café’s street, Kingsley leaned forward. There she was. Outside the little café. Locking up for the night.
His heart slammed.
Katherine. In her light blue cardigan and dark jeans, her hair tied up loosely. The lamplight turned her into a watercolor.
But she wasn’t alone.
A man stood beside her.
Kingsley squinted from inside the cab. The streetlamp was dim, the angle poor. The man’s face was mostly obscured. He stood comfortably close to her, holding a small bag—maybe takeout, maybe something else.
Who is he?
Kingsley’s throat dried. His hand clutched the cab’s headrest. She said something to the man, smiled, and then got into a white Tesla. The man followed her into the driver’s seat. The car hummed to life.
Kingsley leaned forward.
“Follow them. Don’t lose them.”
The cab driver—a thick-bearded, middle-aged man with weary eyes—glanced back. “Everything alright?”
Kingsley nodded stiffly. “Just follow, please.”
They trailed the Tesla down the winding street until it stopped near a quaint, late-night ice cream joint. Neon lights bathed the sidewalk in a pastel glow. Katherine and the man stepped out.
And under the wash of light, Kingsley finally saw him.
Jordan.
His chest cracked open like a fault line. Jordan. The man from before him.
“This guy again” he murmured to himself.
Kingsley sank lower in his seat, pulling his cap even further. He watched them as they ordered cones at the counter. They sat on a bench just outside, laughing, and talking. Jordan said something that made her tilt her head back in a laugh Kingsley hadn’t seen since the retreat.
It cut like a blade.
The cabbie glanced in the rearview mirror.
“You sure you don’t wanna get down, boss? I got people waiting for pickup after this.”
Kingsley didn’t take his eyes off Katherine.
“Don’t worry. I’ll pay you handsomely for your time.”
The cabbie shrugged. “Your meter, your choice.”
And so they sat. Kingsley watched as Jordan casually reached over to wipe a smear of ice cream from the corner of her mouth, and Katherine laughed again. Something in Kingsley wanted to scream. Not because she was smiling. But because it wasn’t with him.
Eventually, the two stood. Jordan opened the car door for her, and they drove off again. The cab followed.
Ten minutes later, they reached a quiet street lined with brownstones. Katherine’s place. Jordan parked, and they sat in the car, talking quietly.
Kingsley leaned forward again, lips pressed in a tight line.
After a few minutes, Katherine opened the passenger door and stepped out. Jordan got out too and walked her to the door.
They stood close.
Too close.
Kingsley’s nails dug into his palm as he watched them exchange a few more words. Katherine smiled, tired but warm. Jordan smiled back and reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face.
Kingsley almost opened the door right then. Almost shouted her name into the dark.
But he didn’t.
He just… watched.
Eventually, Jordan stepped back. He got into the Tesla and drove off.
Katherine turned toward her door.
Kingsley handed the driver several bills—far more than the fare. The cabbie gave a low whistle, nodded his thanks, and pulled away without a word.
The street was quiet now, save for the rustling of leaves in the trees and the distant murmur of a TV from an open apartment window.
Katherine had just reached the second step to her porch when she heard it—
“Katherine.”
She froze mid-step.
That voice.
She turned slowly.
And her breath caught.
Kingsley was walking toward her, no longer the untouchable heir or curated public figure—just a man in simple clothes, a duffel hanging from his shoulder, vulnerability in every step.
“What… what are you doing here?” she asked, blinking as though unsure he was real.
Kingsley quickened his steps until he stood at the foot of her stoop, looking up at her like a man out of air.
“I came to apologize. You weren’t answering my calls. I—I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to come. Please, I’m so sorry. I just wanted to explain everything.”
Katherine looked down at him, her face pale beneath the porch light. Her arms crossed protectively over her chest. The warmth she had just shown Jordan was gone—her eyes now sharp, her voice flat with exhaustion.
“I don’t want to hear any explanation, Kingsley. I don’t know why you’re here, but you need to go back. Just—just continue whatever you and your wife are doing.”
Her voice cracked slightly, but she straightened.
“I’m tired of being toyed with. Tired of being someone you come back to when it’s convenient. I just want to live my life. Move on. Okay? So please, let me move on. Go be with Beth. Go be whoever you want. I just want to be.”
Each word landed like a punch to Kingsley’s gut. He took a step closer, his voice rough with desperation.
“I’m really sorry, Katherine. Please—just hear me out. I don’t want anything to do with Beth. That picture… I didn’t take it. I didn’t even know it was taken. I was drugged, I swear to you. I woke up, and it was already posted. Just hear me out—”
“I said I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped.
Her hand shook slightly as she unlocked her front door. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t trust you. You want forgiveness, but I can’t keep giving you pieces of me only to watch you run back to her.”
“But I’m not—”
“I don’t care!” she cried.
The door swung open and she stepped inside.
“Katherine—”
“Goodnight, Kingsley.”
And with that, she shut the door.
The sound of the bolt sliding home echoed louder than any scream.
Kingsley stood on the porch for a long moment, staring at the wood grain of her door like it might blink open again. His breath fogged in the cool night air.
Then, slowly, he sat down on the top step. Dropped his bag beside him.
Pressed his palms together.
“I’ll wait,” he said to the door, though no one was there to hear it.
“I’ll sit right here. All night if I have to. I’m not leaving until you open this door. I won’t leave without telling you the truth.”
Inside, behind the door, Katherine leaned against it. Her eyes shut. Her heart was pounding too fast.
She didn’t cry. Not yet.
But she didn’t walk away either.
She just stood there, with only the door between them.