Updated Oct 29, 2025 • ~10 min read
The law office of Penelope Ashford was discreet, expensive, and exactly what Jane needed.
No relation to Jane’s family despite the surname—Gabriel had vetted her thoroughly. Specialized in estate law and asset recovery. Had a reputation for handling sensitive cases with absolute discretion.
Perfect.
Jane sat across from Penelope in her corner office, Clara sleeping in a carrier at her feet. She’d left the wig at the hotel. This meeting required her real identity.
Or at least, part of it.
“Ms. Mercer,” Penelope said, opening a leather portfolio. “You mentioned on the phone that this involves a stolen heirloom?”
“Not stolen exactly. Misappropriated.” Jane pulled out her phone, showed Penelope a photo of the necklace—one she’d taken years ago, before it disappeared. “This emerald necklace belonged to my grandmother, Eleanor Ashford. She gave it to me on her deathbed with specific instructions that it remain with direct blood heirs of the Ashford line.”
Penelope studied the photo. “Beautiful piece. Vintage?”
“Late 1800s. Appraised at three hundred thousand dollars, but the sentimental value is—” Jane’s voice caught. Not entirely an act. “Irreplaceable.”
“And it’s currently in someone else’s possession?”
“My sister. Vivienne Ashford.” Jane met Penelope’s eyes. “She took it from my jewelry box without permission. She’s not an Ashford by birth—she married into the family. The necklace should have stayed with me.”
“Do you have documentation? The will, appraisal records, anything establishing provenance?”
Jane pulled out a folder. Gabriel’s PI had been thorough—copies of her grandmother’s will, the original appraisal, photographs documenting the necklace’s history through four generations of Ashford women.
Penelope reviewed everything carefully. “This is comprehensive. And you’re certain your sister has it?”
“I’ve seen her wearing it. Multiple times.” True, though not recently. “She refuses to return it. Claims it was a gift.”
“Was it?”
“No. I never gave her permission to take it.” Also true. “I want it back.”
Penelope tapped her pen against the desk. “This is tricky. Family disputes over heirlooms often are. However—” She pulled up something on her computer. “Connecticut estate law has specific provisions about items with designated heirs. If your grandmother’s will explicitly states the necklace must remain with direct Ashford blood heirs, and your sister isn’t one—”
“She’s not. She married into the family. Her maiden name is Ashford, but that’s coincidental. No blood relation.”
“Then legally, she has no claim to the piece.” Penelope made notes. “We can file a civil suit for recovery of stolen property. Given the documentation you have, it’s a strong case.”
“How quickly can we move on this?”
“I can file within the week. Service of process will happen shortly after. Your sister will have thirty days to respond.”
“And it will be public record?”
“Court filings are public, yes.” Penelope looked up. “Is that a problem?”
“No.” Jane smiled. “That’s exactly what I want.”
Penelope studied her for a moment. “Ms. Mercer, may I ask—why now? If your sister has had this necklace for some time, why pursue legal action at this particular moment?”
Because Jane wanted Vivienne and David to squirm. To panic. To start making mistakes.
But she couldn’t say that.
“Because I have a daughter now.” Jane looked down at Clara. “That necklace was meant to be passed down. My grandmother specifically wanted it to go to her great-granddaughter. I won’t let my sister steal that legacy.”
Not a lie. Every word was true.
Penelope’s expression softened. “I understand. Let’s get your heirloom back.”
They spent another hour going over details. Strategy. How to frame the complaint. What evidence to include.
When Jane left the office, she felt lighter than she had in months.
The first real legal move. The first public action that would start unraveling everything David and Vivienne had built.
Gabriel was waiting in the parking garage with Clara’s diaper bag.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“She’s filing next week.” Jane took the bag, adjusted it on her shoulder. “It’ll be public record. Everyone will know Vivienne stole from me.”
“Everyone will know someone is claiming Vivienne stole from them,” Gabriel corrected. “You filed as Jane Mercer, not Celeste Astor. They won’t immediately connect it.”
“They will once they read the details. The Ashford name. The family history. Eleanor’s will.” Jane secured Clara’s carrier in the car. “They’ll know someone with intimate knowledge of the family is coming after them.”
“And when they start investigating Jane Mercer?”
“They’ll find a paper trail that leads nowhere. A woman who exists on paper but not in reality.” Jane climbed into the passenger seat. “By the time they figure out who I really am, I’ll be three steps ahead.”
Gabriel started the car but didn’t move. “Are you sure about this? Once those papers are filed, there’s no going back. David will know someone’s targeting him.”
“Good. Let him know. Let him worry. Let him spend sleepless nights wondering who knows his secrets.” Jane looked at Gabriel. “I spent years being the one who was scared. Now it’s his turn.”
Gabriel reached over, took her hand. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. David is dangerous when he’s cornered.”
“I know. I have the scars to prove it.” Jane squeezed his hand. “But I’m not that woman anymore. I’m not the one who can be scared into silence.”
“No. You’re definitely not.” Gabriel smiled. Small but proud. “You’re terrifying.”
“Good.”
They drove back to the hotel in comfortable silence. Clara woke up and needed to eat, so Jane fed her while Gabriel ordered dinner—room service, easier than going out with the baby.
“Rafael called,” Gabriel said while they ate. “The truck driver is ready to talk. He’ll give a deposition for fifty thousand.”
Jane nearly choked on her pasta. “Fifty thousand?”
“He’s scared. David paid him twenty to run you off the road. Now he’s worried about being arrested for attempted murder.”
“Can we trust him?”
“Rafael thinks so. He kept the cash David gave him, never spent it. Says it felt like blood money.” Gabriel took a bite of his steak. “He’ll testify that David hired him. Gave him your car description, your route, told him to make it look like an accident.”
Jane’s hands clenched. “David really did try to kill me.”
“Yeah. He did.” Gabriel’s voice was hard. “And with the driver’s testimony, we can prove it.”
“Pay him. Get the deposition. Make sure it’s ironclad.” Jane looked at Clara sleeping in her carrier beside the table. “I want David in prison. I want him destroyed.”
“We’ll get there. One step at a time.”
Jane nodded. Tried to eat more but her appetite was gone. Knowing definitively that David had ordered her death—not just suspecting, but knowing—made everything feel more real. More dangerous.
“He’s going to come after me again,” she said quietly. “When he finds out I’m alive.”
“Maybe. But this time you’re ready. This time you have proof. This time—” Gabriel reached across the table, covered her hand with his. “This time you’re not alone.”
Jane looked at their joined hands. At this man who’d become everything she hadn’t known she needed.
“Gabriel—”
“You don’t have to say anything.” He squeezed gently. “I know this is complicated. I know you’re not ready for—for whatever this is. But I need you to know. I’m here. For you. For Clara. For as long as you’ll have me.”
“What if I’m never ready? What if I’m too broken to—”
“You’re not broken. You’re healing.” Gabriel’s thumb traced circles on her palm. “And healing takes time. I can wait.”
“You shouldn’t have to wait. You should—” Jane pulled her hand back. “You should find someone normal. Someone who doesn’t come with a dead identity and a homicidal ex-husband and a baby that isn’t yours.”
“I don’t want someone normal.” Gabriel’s voice was fierce. “I want you. Exactly as you are. All of it.”
Jane’s throat tightened. “That’s insane.”
“Maybe. But it’s true.” He stood, started clearing dishes. “Get some rest. Tomorrow we move forward with the next phase.”
“What’s the next phase?”
Gabriel smiled. Dangerous and determined. “Tomorrow we make sure every society page and gossip column in Connecticut knows about the lawsuit. Make sure it’s the only thing anyone can talk about.”
“You want this public?”
“I want David and Vivienne drowning in speculation and judgment and questions they can’t answer.” Gabriel’s eyes glinted. “I want them to feel what it’s like when your entire world is watching you fall apart.”
Jane felt a surge of affection so strong it almost hurt. “You’re scary when you’re vengeful.”
“I learned from the best.” He looked at her. “You’ve been planning this for months. Teaching me how to fight back. How to hit where it hurts.”
“I’m a bad influence.”
“You’re the best influence I’ve ever had.” Gabriel came back to the table, crouched beside her chair. “Before you, I was just existing. Going through motions. Avoiding anything real. But you—” He touched her face gently. “You make me want to fight. Want to protect. Want to be better.”
“Gabriel—”
“I love you,” he said. Simple. Direct. Undeniable. “I know you’re not ready to hear it. I know it’s too soon and too complicated and you’re still healing. But I need you to know. I love you. Both of you.”
Jane couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t process what he’d just said.
Gabriel stood. “You don’t have to say anything back. I just needed you to know. That’s all.”
He went into his room. Closed the connecting door quietly.
Jane sat there in the silence, Clara sleeping peacefully beside her, her whole world tilting on its axis.
Gabriel loved her.
Had just told her. Plainly. Without expectation or demand. Just truth.
Jane touched her lips. Wanted to follow him. Wanted to say it back. Wanted to be brave enough to let herself fall completely.
But fear held her frozen.
What if she let herself love him and he left? What if she trusted him completely and he turned into David? What if she believed this was real and it shattered her all over again?
Clara stirred. Made a small sound.
Jane lifted her from the carrier, held her close. Breathed in that baby smell—milk and powder and innocence.
“Your uncle just told me he loves us,” Jane whispered. “What do we do with that?”
Clara yawned. Unimpressed by the declaration that had just rearranged Jane’s entire emotional landscape.
Jane smiled despite everything. “You’re right. One crisis at a time. First, we destroy David. Then we figure out what to do about Gabriel.”
She put Clara to bed. Lay down in her own bed. Stared at the ceiling.
Through the wall, she could hear Gabriel moving around his room. Getting ready for bed.
Jane closed her eyes. Whispered into the darkness: “I love you too.”
Too quiet for him to hear.
But true nonetheless.
Tomorrow they’d file the lawsuit. Tomorrow they’d expose Vivienne’s theft. Tomorrow the real battle would begin.
But tonight, Jane let herself feel it.
The terrifying, impossible, beautiful truth.
She was in love with Gabriel Astor.
And somehow, that scared her more than facing David ever would.
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