Page 15 of Discretion at Its Finest

Hope wouldn’t save me from him. Hope wasn’t going to be enough anymore—but I could only pray it would be for just a little while longer.

I brushed out my hair slowly, the lamplight throwing shadows across the mirror as it lit up the dark room. Jamie’s words still rang in my ears, quiet and damning, and no matter how many times I told myself to let them go, they clung to me.

Part of me wanted to run, take my son and leave with just the clothes on our backs. I didn’t sign up for whatever this was becoming, for whatever Reid was trying to do to us, to me. But the perfect home I forced myself to believe in was crumbling. The façade I was lying behind, curated smiles, secrets I tried to hold… all of it would come to light if he wanted it to.

The bedroom door clicked open. Gregory slipped inside, his tie askew, the scent of whiskey clinging faintly to him. His eyes caught mine. “You’re still awake.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I murmured as he sank onto the edge of the bed.

“Is the little guy in bed?” he asked.

I smiled sadly. “Out like a light.”

He returned the smile, even though it was forced. “You should probably get used to this… late nights, early mornings. Reid’s got me running around like some junior associate, like I wasn’t the one calling the shots only a few weeks ago.”

I set the brush down, watching as he loosened his tie before tossing it to the corner. After a few awkward seconds, I stood and crossed to the bed, lowering onto the edge beside him.

“You’re still the one in charge, Greg.”

He gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Tell that to the board. Tell that to my father. Hell, tell it to Reid. He’s unpacked half his life into the east wing already, like he plans to stay until the company bends to him.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, willing myself not to react to him officially being under the same roof as us. Breathing the same air. Sharing our walls, weaving himself back in as much as he possibly could.

Gregory leaned back, sighing through his nose. “Three years I’ve kept this family’s name above water. Now he shows up, and suddenly I’m the incompetent one.” He reached for his cufflinks, tossing them onto the nightstand with a clatter. “It’s humiliating.”

To that, there wasn’t much I could say. There wasn’t an answer that would make it better. There was a heavy truth to his words, a painful, realistic truth that even my softening wouldn’t be able to fix.

The silence lingered, his breathing heavy, mine tight. I tried to lighten the mood even if it didn’t mean much at that moment. “Tomorrow’s Eugene’s first day of little league soccer,” I murmured, forcing a smile that didn’t quite hold. “He’ll want you there.”

His eyes flicked to mine. For a moment, something softened in his face, the brittle edge of pride giving way to guilt. “Tomorrow,” he repeated, almost to himself.

I nodded. “He’s been practicing in the yard. He’d be happy if you were there. But…”

He looked away, jaw tightening again, the moment gone as quickly as it came. “The way Reid’s got meetings lined up from dusk till dawn, can’t exactly do anything other than what’s on his agenda. If I miss anything, I’ll look like I can’t keep up.”

“I know. Don’t stress it; I’ll document the whole thing for you to watch later.”

His lips found my forehead as he stood, a silent apology I assumed… only issue was this wasn’t the first time. All the other important milestones I’d documented for him, too: Eugene’s first steps, his first words, his first fall that ended with both of us crying on the kitchen floor.

I watched him silently as he walked to the bathroom, the shower turning on as the door closed behind him.

Moments I’d captured on film, pictures, videos, and clips saved just for him. But he never bothered to look. Always too busy. Too tired. Always later—but later never came.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the hum of the shower filling the silence he left behind. My fingers toyed with the hem of my robe aimlessly.

I had stopped expecting him to be there, stopped expecting him to notice the moments that mattered. But Eugene hadn’t. He still looked for his father in the late nights or early morning, waiting for promises that would never be kept.

My mind couldn’t stop replaying the image of Reid stepping in… of him filling the role he was never supposed to, of him getting close to the only thing keeping me sane.

His presence pressed through these walls even when he wasn’t here. Now that he was… escaping him seemed impossible when he held all the power in his hands.

Jamie had been right.

Reid wasn’t the forgiving kind. And I was running out of places to hide from a man who never forgot.

Chapter eight

Genevieve