ALLEN
The rhythmic thump-thump-thump of the helicopter blades overhead felt like a countdown. The white searchlight swept across the limestone balcony, illuminating the three of us—a father, a mother, and a son—for the entire world to see.
"They're like vultures," Celeste whispered, pulling Gabriel tighter into the crook of her neck. The boy was whimpering now, shielded from the blinding light by her hair.
"Let them watch," I said, my voice hardening. I stood up, my frame casting a long shadow over them. "They want a show? I'll give them a masterpiece."
I turned to my mother, who was standing in the doorway with her phone pressed to her ear. Her face was pale, reflecting the glow of the screen. "Miranda, tell the security team to lower the gates. And call Leo Vance. Tell him I need a live feed to every major network in the city. If the Lawsons want to use the law to take my son, they're going to have to do it in front of a hundred million witnesses."
"Allen, you're exhausted," my mother warned. "You're acting on adrenaline. If you misspeak now, you hand the Lawsons the ammunition they need to prove you're unstable."
"I've been 'stable' for thirty years, Mother. And it cost me three years of my son's life," I countered, walking toward her. "The board thinks they can oust me? The Lawsons think they can claim 'parental neglect'? I'm going to show them exactly what a Cross does when he has something worth fighting for."
CELESTE
Ten minutes later, the grand foyer of the Hamptons estate was transformed into a makeshift press room.
I sat on a velvet settee, Gabriel's head resting on my lap. He had finally fallen into a fitful sleep, exhausted by the chaos. Maya was beside me, her hand squeezed tightly around mine.
"You don't have to do this, C," Maya whispered. "We can take the service tunnel. I have a car waiting a mile away. We can disappear again."
I looked at the cameras being set up by the pool. I looked at the dark silhouette of the helicopter still hovering like a ghost above the Atlantic. Then, I looked at Allen.
He was standing by the window, adjusting his cuffs. He looked like the man I had first met—powerful, untouchable, and brilliant. But when he turned to me, I saw the vulnerability he only showed in the dark.
"I'm tired of running, Maya," I said, my voice steady for the first time in days. "Gabriel deserves a father who isn't a secret. And I deserve a life that isn't a lie."
Allen walked over and knelt in front of us. He ignored the technicians and the flashing lights. He simply took my hand and kissed my knuckles.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready," I replied.
We walked out onto the terrace. The wall of heat from the high-powered camera lights hit us instantly. A sea of reporters stood behind the perimeter fence, their microphones thrust forward like spears.
Allen didn't wait for a moderator. He stepped up to the central podium, his hand firmly on the small of my back, drawing me into his orbit.
"My name is Allen Cross," he began, his voice amplified by the speakers until it drowned out the wind. "And for the last three years, I have lived a half-life. I allowed the pursuit of power to blind me to the only thing that actually matters: legacy."
He paused, looking directly into the lens of the main pool camera.
"There is a narrative being pushed today by the Lawson family. They claim that my son, Gabriel, is a 'scandal.' They claim that his mother, Celeste, is a 'liability.' They are currently seeking a court order to remove him from our care, citing 'moral instability.'"
A murmur ran through the crowd of reporters.
"The only 'instability' in this room," Allen continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register, "is the greed of a family that disowned their daughter when she was pregnant and penniless, only to try and kidnap her child the moment they realized he carried a Cross bloodline."
I stepped forward then, my voice clear and unwavering. "I worked three jobs to put food on my son's table. I slept on a floor so he could have a crib. The Lawsons didn't send a dime. They didn't send a card. They sent a 'Notice of Disinheritance.' If they want to talk about 'moral fitness' in a courtroom, I welcome it. Because I have three years of receipts, and they have nothing but cold hearts."
The reporters began shouting questions, but Allen raised his hand, silencing them.
"One more thing," Allen said, his gaze shifting to the side, where I knew Anastasia and Yona were likely watching from their high-rise apartments. "To those who think they can use a single night of passion to blackmail me: You failed. I didn't resign because I was ashamed. I resigned because I don't need a title to be a father. But I still own forty percent of the voting shares of Apex. And my first act as the largest shareholder is to initiate a full forensic audit of the executive wing."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Allen turned to me, right there in front of the world, and pulled me into a kiss. It wasn't a PR stunt. it was a declaration of war.
As the flashes exploded like a thousand stars, I realized the cage was finally broken. We weren't hiding anymore. We were standing in the light.
But as we turned to walk back inside, a black sedan pulled up to the gate. A man in a dark suit stepped out, holding a silver briefcase. H
e didn't look like a reporter.
He looked like an assassin.