[Stephanie Bckwood’s POV]

  Crown Steakhouse glitters with pretension around us, crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths, waitresses who hover just out of sight like well-trained ghosts. I check my Rolex. 7:25. Our guests are due in five minutes, and my patience has already worn paper-thin.

  Across from me, Olivia fidgets with her thumbs, unable to meet my gaze. The disappointment I feel is so profound it borders on physical pain. My only child, my heir, reduced to this trembling, lovesick mess over some common boy.

  "I must say again, Olivia, you've truly outdone yourself with embarrassing the family," I tell her, keeping my voice low and controlled despite the rage bubbling beneath my skin. "I know I've said it before, but I truly am thankful you took your father's st name."

  She keeps her eyes fixed on the tablecloth, shoulders hunched like a scolded child. "I'm sorry, Mom."

  "Really though, to enjoy getting tied down." I can barely get the words out, they repulse me so thoroughly. "Absolutely fucking disgusting. You're supposed to be a proper heir, not... whatever this is." I wave my hand dismissively at her, at what she's become.

  "And now I have to pay off someone that can barely afford Boston University," I continue, taking a measured sip of my water. The ice clinks against crystal, a sound that should be soothing but only heightens my irritation.

  "You don't have to pay off Shane," Olivia mumbles. "He's not going to say anything."

  I set my gss down with more force than necessary. "He sure will the second he finds out how much money your family really has. You have to break up with him, and I have to convince him and his father to sign a fucking NDA."

  I sigh long and angrily, watching her shrink further into herself. It's pathetic.

  "Do I really have to break up with Shane?" she asks, finally looking up at me with those wide blue eyes that look so much like my own, in a face that's too much like her father's. "I really like him."

  "You fucking child." My words come out as a hiss. "You are Boston royalty, and you want to slum it with the first peasant man that sleeps with you? You miserable little cretin." I lean forward, making sure she feels every sylble. "Say it out loud. Practice. Show me how you're going to break it off with this poor ingrate."

  Olivia opens her mouth, closes it, then takes a shaky breath. "Shane, I... I think we should stop seeing each other. It's not…"

  "Don't give him reasons," I interrupt sharply. "You don't owe him expnations. Clean break. 'This is over, I'm not interested anymore.' Nothing else."

  "But that's so cruel," she protests weakly.

  I ugh, the sound brittle and cold. "Cruel? Cruel would be letting him think he has a future with you. You're twenty, for God's sake. You think this boy is worth jeopardizing the Bckwood legacy?"

  I'm still lecturing Olivia when her eyes suddenly go wide. She straightens in her seat, her entire demeanor shifting in an instant.

  "That's them, Mom," she whispers urgently, giving a subtle nod toward the entrance.

  I follow her gaze toward the door, expecting to see some unremarkable father-son duo in off-the-rack suits. What I see instead makes my heart seize in my chest.

  The boy is pin enough, slender, timid-looking, with that same hunched posture that speaks of someone trying desperately not to be noticed. But it's the father who has frozen me in pce.

  It's him. Victor. My Victor.

  I can't breathe. Can't think. My fingers grip the edge of the table as they make their way toward us, the father scanning the restaurant with those familiar brown eyes I've spent countless hours staring into.

  Olivia rises slightly to wave them over, and they begin weaving between tables in our direction. With each step he takes, my mind races faster. Victor. Here. Victor is Shane's father. Victor has a son. Victor has been hiding a family from me all this time.

  The pieces click into pce with sickening crity as they reach our table. The boy, Shane, slides awkwardly into the seat beside Olivia, but I barely register his presence. I'm locked in a staring contest with the man I've been obsessing over for years.

  His eyes go wide with recognition as he takes the seat across from me, his face draining of color.

  "Victor?"

  *****

  [Will’s POV]

  My heart nearly stops when I see her sitting at the table, those piercing blue eyes locking onto mine like a predator spotting prey. Of all the women in Boston, of all the mothers my son's girlfriend could have, it had to be her. Stephanie fucking Bckwood.

  "Victor?" she repeats, the name slicing through the restaurant's ambient noise like a knife.

  I'm frozen in pce, one foot still hovering above the ground, my body caught between fight and flight. Shane looks at me, confusion written across his face.

  "Long time no see," Stephanie continues, her voice eerily calm despite the storm I can see building behind her eyes.

  Olivia shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "Mom, Shane's dad is named Will."

  Stephanie blinks once, twice, her face recalibrating as the information processes. Then she smiles. It's the most unhinged expression I've ever seen in my life, like someone's taken a perfectly normal smile and stretched it just a few millimeters too far in every direction.

  I hold out my hand across the table, a pathetic peace offering. "Will Gray," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's nice to meet you."

  She takes my hand, her grip unnervingly gentle. "Stephanie Bckwood. What a delight."

  Her fingers linger against mine for too long before she finally releases me.

  "So," she says, folding her hands neatly on the table, "you're Shane's father."

  "Yes."

  We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity. Stephanie's eyes bore into me, calcuting, assessing. I can practically hear the gears turning in her head as she tries to reconcile Victor Sugartooth with Will Gray.

  Olivia gnces nervously between her mother and Shane, her fingers twisting the cloth napkin in her p. "Um, Shane..." Her voice trembles slightly. "This is ov…"

  "No need for that, Olivia!" Stephanie cuts in, her voice pitched unnaturally high. She ughs, a brittle, jagged sound, and lunges forward, grabbing what looks like legal documents from the table and shoving them unceremoniously underneath. I catch a glimpse of the words "non-disclosure" before they disappear from view.

  "Mom, wait," Olivia protests, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I'd rather do it myself than have you break up with…"

  "No one's breaking up with anyone today, okay?" Stephanie interrupts again, fshing that too-wide smile that makes my skin crawl. She ughs again. "Unless... Shane here isn't happy with my daughter?"

  All eyes turn to my son, who looks like he wants to melt into the floor.

  "We just met, but I like her a lot," Shane says quietly, his gaze fixed on the tablecloth. "I'm really sorry about tying her to the…"

  "Water under the bridge!" Stephanie waves her hand dismissively, cutting Shane off before he can finish. "Who am I to tell two young lovers how to express themselves in privacy?"

  My stomach churns at the thought of Stephanie knowing what happened between our children. The idea of her having any connection to my son's life makes me physically ill. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

  "So, William," Stephanie says, leaning forward with those predatory eyes fixed on me. "Are you married? I don't see a ring." Her gaze drops pointedly to my bare left hand.

  "I was," I manage to say, the words feeling like sandpaper. "My wife passed away eighteen years ago."

  "That's so sad," Stephanie coos, her voice dripping with a sympathy I know isn't genuine. She reaches across the table as if to touch my hand, but I subtly pull back. "And what do you do for work, William?"

  I can feel Shane's eyes on me, watching carefully.

  "I deal cards at La Reale," I say, sticking to my usual cover story. "Live off tips mostly."

  Stephanie's smile widens, showing too many teeth. "I imagine with a face like yours, you make a killing."

  My stomach knots as I force a polite smile. "It pays the bills."

  "I'm sure it does," she purrs, her gaze traveling over my face like she's memorizing every detail. "La Reale is such an... interesting establishment. I've spent quite a bit of time there myself."

  She squints at me, tilting her head slightly. "You know, I think I even recognize you from there. The dealer at table seven, right? With the little bow tie?"

  "What a small world," I reply, my voice coming out steadier than I feel. My heart's pounding so hard I'm worried everyone at the table can hear it.

  Stephanie snaps her fingers suddenly. "You know what? It's Friday night." She grabs her sleek leather wallet out of her pants. "Young people shouldn't be stuck at a stuffy dinner with their parents."

  Before I can process what's happening, she's extracting a thick wad of hundred-dolr bills and sliding them across the table to Olivia.

  "Go take Shane somewhere more fun," she says, her eyes never leaving my face. "Somewhere two young people can enjoy themselves properly."

  Olivia's eyes widen as she stares at the money. "Mom, I don't think…"

  "Take it," Stephanie insists, her voice hardening just enough to make Olivia flinch.

  Shane looks at me, uncertainty written all over his face. "Is that okay, Dad?"

  I want to say no. But Olivia seems safe.

  "Yeah, just be home by eleven, alright?"

  Shane nods, still looking uncertain. "Alright."

  "And text me if anything happens," I add, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

  "I will," he promises.

  I watch as Olivia reluctantly takes the money, stuffing it into her pockets. She and Shane rise from their seats, both looking like they'd rather be anywhere else. They make their way through the restaurant with cautious steps, gncing back at us once before disappearing through the entrance.

  And just like that, I'm alone with Stephanie Bckwood.

  The silence between us feels like a physical thing, pressing down on my chest as Stephanie stares at me from across the table. Her blue eyes haven't left my face since the kids walked out. The restaurant bustles around us, but it might as well be just the two of us trapped in a bubble of tension.

  "So," she says finally, her voice low and dangerous. "Your name is William."

  "Yup." The word comes out clipped, defensive. What else can I say?

  She slides out from her side of the table and slips in next to me before I can react. Suddenly she's right there, her thigh pressed against mine, her shoulder touching my arm. It's exactly how she sits when we're on one of her "dates" at expensive restaurants before she takes me back to the presidential suite.

  "So this is why you've always said no to me," she murmurs, her voice a strange mix of anger and wonder. Her eyes light up with sudden understanding. "Because you have a son... and a daughter, if I recall what Olivia told me."

  My throat tightens. This is my worst nightmare. The carefully constructed wall between my work life and my family, crumbling before my eyes.

  "Yeah," I admit, seeing no point in denying it now. "They're my everything, Stephanie. The only reason I work as an escort is to give them the life they deserve."

  Her hand finds my knee under the table, fingers digging in slightly. "And you thought I wouldn't understand that? That I wouldn't accept them?"

  I shift away from her touch, but there's nowhere to go with the wall at my back. "It's not about that."

  "Then what is it about, William?" She says my real name like she's testing how it feels on her tongue. "All this time I've been offering you everything, and you've been pying house in some suburban neighborhood, pretending to be someone else."

  "I wasn't pretending," I tell her, anger finally breaking through my fear. "That's who I really am. Victor is the pretend one."

  Stephanie's eyes narrow, and she leans in closer. "William," she says, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "be my husband. I'll make sure your children never have to work a day in their lives."

  "Over my dead body." The words tear out of me with such force that heads turn at nearby tables. "I will never let you near them."

  Her face transforms instantly, that fake smile crumbling into something raw and ugly. For a split second, I see the real Stephanie Bckwood, the monster beneath the polished exterior.

  "You don't mean that," she hisses, fingers digging painfully into my thigh. "Don't you understand what I'm offering you? Financial security. Power. Protection. Everything you've been working so hard for."

  I pry her hand off my leg. "What I've been working for is to keep my kids safe from people exactly like you."

  She ughs, the sound like breaking gss. "People like me? You mean successful women who can provide for them?"

  "No. People who think they can buy anything, or anyone, they want." I meet her gaze directly. "People who see others as possessions."

  Stephanie's eyes fsh with a dangerous gleam. "So that's how it is? I finally know who you really are, Will. And I know who your son is."

  My blood runs cold. The implied threat hangs in the air between us.

  "I could tell him what his father really does for work," she continues, her voice silky smooth. "How Daddy spreads the legs of wealthy women to pay for his college tuition. I wonder how that would affect his studies."

  "Go ahead. I haven't told him because I'm ashamed of it, but I'll happily fall on that sword if it means keeping him secure."

  She blinks, clearly not expecting that response.

  "You don't understand what you're dealing with, William." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I'm rich. I could hurt your children very easily."

  A chill runs down my spine, but it's quickly repced by white-hot anger. "See how fast you jumped to that? That's exactly why I'd never marry you, Stephanie."

  She recoils slightly.

  "I acknowledge you're very rich," I continue, keeping my voice low but firm. "But do you know who I'm connected to?"

  Her lips curl into a mocking smile. "Who?"

  "Lara."

  The smile freezes on Stephanie's face. "Lara is the one who kept your name safe from me for all these years." She leans closer, her voice barely audible. "What are you to her?"

  I hesitate, genuinely uncertain how to define my retionship with my boss. "Colleagues? I don't really know."

  Stephanie's eyes narrow to dangerous slits. "Well, we'll see if Lara can really stop me."

  Something in her tone makes my hand move before my brain can catch up. I grab the steak knife from the table, wrapping my fingers around the handle.

  "If you go after my kids," I say, my voice deathly calm, "I'll kill you."

  She doesn't even flinch. Instead, she smiles, that same unhinged smile from earlier. "I'd like to see you try."

  We're locked in this standoff when a panting waitress approaches our table, her cheerful voice shattering the tension.

  "I'm so sorry for taking so long, are y'all ready to order?"

  I pce the knife carefully back on the table, never breaking eye contact with Stephanie. "I was just leaving."

  I stand up, my legs surprisingly steady given the adrenaline coursing through my veins. As I turn to walk away, I hear Stephanie's voice behind me, soft but clear.

  "See you soon, Victor."