The storm broke at dawn.
It wasn't the dramatic, paparazzi swarm Lysander had predicted, at least not at first. It began as a low hum a single, unmarked sedan parked a little too far down the road.
Then another. By 7 a.m., a local news van from Bangor was positioned at the end of the lane, its satellite dish a grotesque metal flower amidst the lupines.
Evie saw them from the kitchen window, her knuckles white around her coffee mug. The security team, now a visible presence, had set up a discreet perimeter.
One of them, a woman with a severe ponytail, was speaking calmly but firmly with the news crew, her body language an immovable wall.
Maya had stayed the night, a solid, sleeping presence on the couch. The children were quiet, still sequestered in their room.
The house felt like a fortress under a quiet, anxious siege.
A soft knock at the back door made her jump. It was the female security agent, Lorna.
"Ms. Reed," Lorna said, her voice low and professional. "We've established a media containment line.
They won't pass the mailbox. However, I recommend keeping the curtains drawn on the street side. And if the children need to go outside, the backyard is secure."
Evie nodded mutely, the reality of the situation cementing around her. Lysander had been right. The chaos was here.
The day passed in a strange, liminal space. Leo and Luna, sensing the tension, were clingy and quiet. They didn't ask to go outside.
They didn't ask about the man from yesterday. They built a pillow fort in the living room, a nest of safety away from the windows. Evie's heart ached for their stolen normalcy.
In the late afternoon, the siege escalated. The hum outside grew into a persistent drone of engines and raised voices. Peeking through a sliver in the blinds, Evie's stomach dropped.
There were at least four more vans, and a crowd of photographers with long-lens cameras milled by the security line. Damian Vance had clearly tipped them off with more specific details.
Suddenly, a new, familiar black SUV rolled down the lane, not stopping at the security line but being waved through. It parked behind the cottage, out of sight of the main scrum.
Evie's breath hitched. Him.
She didn't know if she was relieved or furious.
A few minutes later, another quiet knock, this time at the front door. Sebastian stood there, his expression as unreadable as ever.
"Mr. Crowe is here," he said. "He would like to speak with you. Outside."
"He can't come in," Evie said immediately, her voice sharp. Not after yesterday. Not with the children so fragile.
"He understands. He's waiting in the backyard."
Swallowing hard, Evie nodded. She told Maya she'd be a moment and stepped out onto the back porch.
Lysander stood with his back to her, looking out over the small, fenced-in yard that sloped down to the cove.
He had changed into dark jeans and a simple black sweater, a concession to the casual setting that did nothing to diminish his aura of power.
The fading sunlight glinted off his dark hair.
He turned as she approached. He looked tired, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced.
The flawless billionaire veneer was cracking under the strain.
"I see you've met the press," he said, his voice flat.
"You were right," she admitted, the words tasting like gall. "They're here."
"They're vultures," he corrected, his gaze drifting to the cottage. "How are they?"
"Scared. Confused. They haven't asked to go outside all day."
She wrapped her arms around herself against the chill. "What do you want, Lysander?"
"I want to show you something." He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and handed it to her.
It was a live financial news feed. The ticker at the bottom scrolled with headlines: CROWE PATERNITY SCANDAL ROCKS AETHER CORP... VANCE CALLS FOR TRANSPARENCY... AETHER STOCK DOWN 8%.
The screen then showed a clip of Damian Vance, smirking, standing at a podium. "Questions are being raised about the judgment and stability of Aether's leadership.
When a CEO's private life becomes this... messy, it reflects on the entire company. We're just asking for clarity for the shareholders."
"He's using them," Lysander said, his voice a low growl. "He's using my children as a weapon to bludgeon my company's stock price and my reputation."
Evie stared at the screen, a fresh wave of nausea washing over her. Her children were reduced to a headline, a percentage point, a talking point for a smug, predatory man. "This is what you were afraid of."
"This is the beginning," he said, taking the phone back. "This is the part they can broadcast.
The longer this hangs out there as a 'scandal,' the worse it will get. The whispers, the speculation, the invasive, illegal tactics some of these bottom-feeders will use to get a picture.
" He looked at her, his eyes burning with a new, grim intensity. "I can make it stop."
"How?"
"By taking away their weapon. By controlling the narrative completely."
He took a step closer, his voice dropping, becoming urgent. "I'm holding a press conference. Tomorrow. In New York."
Evie stared at him, horrified. "You're going to talk about them? On television?"
"No," he said, and the word was a vow. "We are."
The world tilted. "What?"
"You and me. Together. We stand in front of the cameras, and we present a united front.
We announce the existence of Leo and Luna Crowe not as a scandal, but as a private matter we are joyfully navigating together as a family.
We take the power away from Vance and give them nothing to tear apart."
It was a breathtakingly audacious plan. A pre-emptive strike. It was also a terrifying prospect.
"You want me to stand next to you and lie? To pretend this is some joyful reunion?"
"It doesn't have to be a lie," he said, and for the first time, she heard a thread of something desperate in his tone.
"It can be a beginning. Our beginning. We show a strong, unified front, and the story dies. The vultures lose interest. The children get their lives back."
He was offering her a way out. A brutal, public, humiliating way out, but a way to end the siege on her home.
To give Leo and Luna back their backyard, their peace, their anonymity.
She looked back at the cottage, at the drawn curtains, imagining her children huddled inside.
She thought of Leo's fearful eyes, of Luna's crushed spirit. She thought of the cameras, a persistent threat that could last for weeks, months, forever.
Then she looked at Lysander. He was offering a partnership, a deal.
The same man who had called her children 'brats' was now asking her to stand beside him as his partner in the most public way imaginable.
The safety of her children versus a pact with the devil.
Her voice was barely a whisper, carried away by the salt-scented wind.