Updated Oct 22, 2025 • ~10 min read
Paige woke to the smell of coffee and bacon.
For a moment, she forgot where she was. Then it all came rushing back—Vincent’s penthouse, Marcus in jail, the immunity deal, the trial looming in six weeks.
She found Vincent in the kitchen, barefoot in sweatpants and a t-shirt, cooking breakfast like this was normal. Like they were a normal couple instead of two people caught in a legal and moral nightmare.
“Morning,” he said, spotting her. “Hope you’re hungry. I made enough for an army.”
Paige padded over, accepting the coffee he handed her. “You cook?”
“I had to learn after I moved out of the family house. Turns out hiring a chef every night gets expensive.” He flipped a pancake expertly. “Plus, my therapist said cooking was therapeutic. She was right.”
“You have a therapist?”
“Had. Started seeing her two years ago when I realized how messed up my family was. Stopped going when my father got sick.” Vincent plated the pancakes and bacon. “Should probably start again, considering.”
They ate at the island, knees touching, the intimacy of it striking Paige as both wonderful and terrifying. This was what normal looked like. What a relationship could be.
She’d never had this with Marcus. He’d never made her breakfast. Never looked at her like Vincent was looking at her now—soft and open and full of affection.
“What?” Vincent asked, catching her staring.
“Just thinking about how different you are. From him.”
Vincent’s expression darkened. “I hope so. But Paige, we need to talk about something.”
Her stomach dropped. “That sounds ominous.”
“Not bad. Just important.” He took her hand. “The trial. When you testify, Marcus’s lawyers are going to come after you hard. They’ll try to discredit you, make you look like a liar, bring up our relationship as proof you’re biased.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean they’re going to be brutal. They’ll ask about every text, every moment, everything he can twist to make it look like the abuse was consensual. Like you’re only crying victim now because I paid you to.” Vincent’s grip tightened. “I need you to be prepared for that. For them to tear you apart on the stand.”
Paige set down her coffee cup. “I’ve been preparing for three years. I can handle it.”
“Can you? Because if it gets too much, if you want to back out—”
“I’m not backing out.” Her voice was firm. “Marcus is going to prison. I’m making sure of it.”
Vincent studied her face, then nodded slowly. “Okay. Then we prep. My lawyer’s arranging mock cross-examinations, practice sessions to get you ready. Jennifer Walsh will prep you too. It’s going to be intense.”
“Good. I want to be ready.”
“There’s something else.” Vincent hesitated. “The press is going to dig into our relationship. They already are. TMZ has photos of us at the restaurant, at the funeral. They’re calling it a ‘forbidden romance’ and making it sound tawdry.”
“Let them. I don’t care what they think.”
“You should. Because public opinion matters. If people think you’re just with me for money or revenge or—”
“Vincent.” Paige cupped his face. “I don’t care. I know the truth. You know the truth. That’s all that matters.”
He kissed her palm. “I wish that were true.”
His phone buzzed. He glanced at it and his expression shifted. “My mother wants to see me.”
“Your mother?” Paige had almost forgotten Vincent had a mother. “Where has she been through all this?”
“Europe. She left after the divorce ten years ago, only comes back for major events. She flew in for the funeral, saw the news, and now she wants to have lunch.” Vincent’s voice was flat. “Should be fun.”
“Do you have to go?”
“She’s still my mother. And she’s furious I exposed the family secrets.” He stood, clearing dishes. “Want to come with me? Might be nice to have backup.”
“You want me to meet your mother?”
“Is that too soon? Too weird?” Vincent looked uncertain. “I just… I don’t want to face her alone.”
Paige thought about it. Meeting the mother of the man she loved. The mother who’d been married to Charles Hartley. The mother who’d left rather than deal with her family’s problems.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll come.”
Three hours later, they were at an upscale restaurant in Beverly Hills—the kind of place where everyone spoke in hushed tones and the cheapest item on the menu was forty dollars.
Victoria Hartley was already seated when they arrived. She looked exactly like old money—perfectly styled silver hair, designer suit, jewelry that probably cost more than Paige’s car. And cold eyes that tracked their approach like a predator watching prey.
“Vincent.” She didn’t stand, just offered her cheek for a kiss. Then her gaze landed on Paige. “And this must be the infamous Paige Carter.”
“Mother, this is Paige. Paige, my mother Victoria.”
“Ms. Carter.” Victoria’s smile was sharp. “How lovely to finally meet the woman who destroyed my family.”
Paige felt Vincent tense beside her, but she kept her voice level. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Hartley.”
They sat, the tension thick enough to cut. A waiter appeared immediately, taking drink orders and disappearing.
“So,” Victoria said, folding her hands. “Let’s skip the pleasantries. Vincent, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking Marcus needed to be stopped.”
“By exposing decades of family business to the public? By destroying your father’s legacy?” Victoria’s voice was cold. “By choosing her over your own blood?”
“My own blood is a rapist and an abuser.” Vincent’s voice was steel. “And our father enabled him. Someone had to do the right thing.”
“The right thing.” Victoria laughed bitterly. “The right thing was handling it privately. Paying off the victims, getting Marcus help, protecting the family name. Not this… this public spectacle.”
Paige couldn’t stay silent. “Protecting the family name? You mean covering up crimes?”
Victoria’s eyes snapped to her. “You know nothing about this family, Ms. Carter. Nothing about what we’ve built, what we’ve sacrificed—”
“I know your son nearly killed me. I know your husband paid money to make victims disappear. I know you left rather than deal with it.” Paige’s voice shook but held firm. “So forgive me if I don’t care about your family name.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then Victoria smiled. It wasn’t kind. “You have spirit. I can see why Vincent is infatuated. But infatuation fades, Ms. Carter. And when it does, you’ll be left with a man who betrayed his family for you. Who lost everything for you. That’s a heavy burden to carry.”
“I can handle it.”
“Can you? Because from where I’m sitting, you look like a woman who’s already drowning.” Victoria leaned forward. “My son is guilt-ridden and self-destructive. He’s chosen you as his penance, his way of atoning for years of looking the other way. But eventually, he’ll resent you for it. For being the reason he lost everything.”
“That’s enough.” Vincent’s voice was dangerous. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”
“I’m your mother—”
“You’re a woman who abandoned her sons when things got difficult. Who chose Europe and a new life over dealing with the mess in her own home.” Vincent stood, pulling Paige up with him. “We’re leaving.”
“Vincent, sit down—”
“No. I came here because you asked. But I won’t sit here and let you attack Paige. She’s the strongest person I know, and she’s worth more than this entire family combined.”
Victoria’s face was cold as stone. “If you walk out that door, don’t expect to be welcomed back.”
“I wasn’t expecting to be welcomed anyway.” Vincent put his arm around Paige. “Goodbye, Mother.”
They walked out of the restaurant, heads high, ignoring the stares of other diners who’d clearly heard the confrontation.
In the car, Vincent’s hands shook on the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have brought you into that.”
“Don’t apologize. She needed to hear it.” Paige took his hand. “Are you okay?”
“I just told my mother goodbye. Possibly forever.” He laughed, the sound broken. “So no, not really. But I’d do it again. She doesn’t get to talk to you that way.”
“She was trying to get in my head. Make me doubt us.”
“Is it working?”
Paige thought about Victoria’s words. About Vincent resenting her eventually. About the burden of being his redemption.
“No,” she said finally. “Because I know you. And I know this isn’t about guilt or penance. It’s about doing the right thing. About us.”
Vincent lifted her hand to his lips. “I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anything. And I don’t care what my mother thinks or what anyone thinks. You’re it for me.”
“Even when this gets harder?”
“Especially then.”
They drove back to the penthouse in comfortable silence. James followed at a discreet distance, ever-present security.
Inside, Vincent pulled Paige into his arms and just held her. No words. Just presence. Just proof that they were solid despite everyone trying to pull them apart.
“Six weeks,” Paige said against his chest. “Until the trial.”
“Six weeks until Marcus faces justice. Until you get to tell your truth in court. Until we can finally move forward.” Vincent kissed the top of her head. “We can do six weeks.”
“Can we? Your mother might be right. About people resenting what they sacrifice.”
“My mother is bitter and angry and chose the easy path her entire life.” Vincent pulled back to look at her. “I’m choosing the hard path. With you. And I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
Paige kissed him, pouring all her fears and hopes into it. When they broke apart, both breathless, she knew something fundamental had shifted.
They weren’t just surviving anymore. They were building something. Something real and lasting and worth fighting for.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered.
Vincent’s eyes darkened. “Paige—”
“I know. I know all the reasons we shouldn’t. But I want to. I want you. I want to feel alive instead of afraid.” She touched his face. “Make me feel alive.”
Vincent swept her up in his arms, carrying her toward the bedroom like she weighed nothing.
And for the next few hours, they forgot about trials and mothers and brothers in jail. They forgot about consequences and complications and the storm still brewing.
There was just them. Skin on skin. Hearts beating in sync. Two broken people finding wholeness in each other.
Afterward, lying tangled in Vincent’s sheets, Paige felt peace settle over her like a blanket.
“I could get used to this,” she murmured.
“Good. Because I’m not letting you go.” Vincent traced patterns on her bare shoulder. “Six weeks. Then a trial. Then sentencing. And then…”
“And then what?”
“And then we figure out the rest of our lives.” He kissed her softly. “Together.”
“Together,” Paige echoed.
She fell asleep in his arms, safe and warm and loved.
Outside, the city moved on. News cycles churned. Marcus sat in jail plotting revenge. Victoria Hartley probably called lawyers to cut Vincent out of the family fortune.
But inside this penthouse, in this bed, in this moment—none of it mattered.
Because Paige had found something she thought Marcus had destroyed forever:
The ability to trust. To love. To believe in a future that didn’t involve fear.
And Vincent had found redemption in the most unlikely place—in the arms of the woman his family had tried to silence.
They were broken and messy and imperfect.
But they were together.
And sometimes, that was the only thing that mattered.
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