Updated Nov 25, 2025 • ~8 min read
Three days at Atkins’ apartment felt like three years.
No word from Leander. No calls. No texts after that first one.
Just silence.
“He made his choice,” Atkins said, handing me coffee. “The merger. The money. Just like you knew he would.”
“I thought—” My voice broke. “I thought we were past this. Past him choosing business over everything.”
“People don’t change, Morgana. Not really. They just get better at hiding who they are.”
Maybe she was right.
My phone rang. Unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Morgana Duffy? This is Pamela, Mr. Cork’s assistant. I’m calling to inform you that Mr. Cork has asked me to pack your remaining belongings and have them delivered. Where should I send them?”
My heart shattered. He was really doing this. Erasing me.
“Send them here.” I gave Atkins’ address. Hung up.
“He’s sending my stuff,” I said numbly.
“Oh honey.” Atkins hugged me. “I’m so sorry.”
“I should’ve known. Should’ve seen it coming. He was always going to choose money.”
“You loved him. That’s not seeing wrong. That’s being brave enough to hope.”
The boxes arrived that afternoon. My things, packed with clinical precision. No note. No explanation. Just my life, boxed up and dismissed.
I was unpacking when I found it. Tucked into my laptop bag where I wouldn’t miss it.
An envelope. Leander’s handwriting.
Morgana—I’m sorry. Not for what you think. Open when you can forgive me. -L
Inside was a USB drive.
I plugged it in. Found one video file. Dated yesterday.
Leander, sitting in his office. Looking wrecked.
“Morgana. If you’re watching this, it means I’ve sent your things. Means you think I chose the merger. I need you to know that’s not what happened.”
He rubbed his face. Exhausted.
“Damarise gave me twenty-four hours. I spent twenty-three trying to find another way. Any way to save the company without selling myself. I called every investor. Every connection. Every possibility.”
He looked at the camera. Eyes haunted.
“And I realized something. Every strategy I considered started with ‘protect the company.’ Not ‘keep Morgana.’ Not ‘choose love.’ Just business. Over and over.”
Pause. Deep breath.
“That’s when I knew you were right. I was calculating. Treating you like a variable in a business equation. And you deserve better than that.”
He stood. Paced.
“So I called Damarise. Told her no. No merger. No marriage. No consideration. I’d rather lose everything than betray you.”
My breath caught.
“She laughed. Said I was an idiot. Said the hostile takeover would succeed without her shares. That I’d lose the company anyway.”
He turned back to the camera.
“And you know what? She’s probably right. The takeover vote is next week. Without Damarise’s shares, I’ll lose. CorkTech will be gutted. Everything I built will disappear.”
He sat again. Looked directly at me.
“But here’s what I realized. I can rebuild a company. Can’t rebuild us if I destroy your trust. So I choose you. Even if it costs me everything. Even if you never forgive me for taking three days to figure out something I should’ve known immediately.”
His voice cracked.
“I love you, Morgana Duffy. Not strategically. Not conditionally. Just completely. Terrifyingly. Irrevocably. And I’m sorry I made you doubt that even for a second.”
The video ended.
I sat staring at the screen. Tears streaming.
He’d chosen me. Three days late. But he’d chosen.
“What does it say?” Atkins asked.
“He turned down the merger. Chose me over fourteen billion dollars.”
“Holy shit.”
“He’s going to lose his company. Everything he’s built. Because of me.”
“Not because of you. Because he loves you. There’s a difference.”
I grabbed my phone. Called him.
It rang. And rang. Went to voicemail.
“Leander. I got the video. I’m—just call me. Please.”
I tried again. Same result.
“Something’s wrong,” I said.
“Maybe he’s just busy—”
“No. He’d answer. Unless—” Dread pooled. “Unless something happened.”
I called Pamela.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Duffy. Mr. Cork is unavailable.”
“Where is he?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Pamela. Please. Is he okay?”
Long pause. Then, quietly: “He’s at Chicago Memorial. Emergency room. There was an incident.”
My blood froze. “What kind of incident?”
“A car accident. He’s stable but—please don’t tell anyone I told you. He specifically said not to notify—”
I hung up. Grabbed my coat.
“Where are you going?” Atkins asked.
“Hospital. He’s hurt.”
“Do you want me to come—”
“No. I need to do this alone.”
Chicago Memorial’s ER was chaos. I pushed through to the desk.
“Leander Cork. Where is he?”
“Are you family?”
“I’m his fiancée.”
The nurse checked her computer. “Room 347. But he’s—”
I was already running.
Room 347. I burst through the door.
Leander sat on the hospital bed, head bandaged, arm in a sling. Talking to a police officer.
He looked up. Saw me. Relief flooded his face.
“Morgana.”
I crossed the room. Checked him over. “What happened?”
“Car accident. Someone ran a red light. T-boned my car.”
“Someone or something?”
His expression darkened. “The officer was just telling me. Security footage shows it was deliberate. The other driver aimed for me.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know yet. They fled the scene.”
The officer excused himself. I sat beside Leander on the bed.
“You could’ve been killed.”
“I know.”
“And you told them not to call me.”
“I thought you hated me. Thought I’d lost you by hesitating about Damarise.”
“I got your video. I was calling you when Pamela told me you were here.”
“So you came.”
“Of course I came. Leander, I love you. Even when you’re being an idiot about business decisions.”
He pulled me close with his good arm. “I’m sorry. For everything. For hesitating. For making you doubt. For—”
“Stop. You chose me. That’s what matters.”
“I chose you and now someone’s trying to kill me.”
The words hung heavy.
“You think the accident is connected to the takeover?”
“Damarise offered a merger. I refused. Twelve hours later, someone tries to run me off the road. That’s not coincidence.”
“She tried to kill you? Over shares?”
“Not her directly. But someone who wants me gone.” He winced, adjusting his sling. “The takeover vote is in four days. If I’m incapacitated—or dead—they win by default.”
“Then we make sure you’re not either of those things.”
“We?”
“You chose me. Now I choose you back. We fight this together.”
He kissed me. Carefully, mindful of injuries. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Probably not. But you’re stuck with me anyway.”
A knock. The officer returned with security footage.
“Mr. Cork, we have an ID on the driver. Does the name Elliott Alford mean anything to you?”
Leander went pale. “He’s Bradford Alford’s son. Bradford is one of the shareholders pushing the takeover.”
“So this wasn’t random. This was attempted murder to facilitate a corporate coup.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Working on it. In the meantime, I’d suggest protective detail. If they tried once—”
“They’ll try again,” I finished. “Leander, you can’t go home. It’s not safe.”
“Where do I go? Every property I own is public record.”
“You come to Atkins’. Anonymous apartment. No connection to you. They won’t think to look there.”
“I can’t put you in danger—”
“Too late. I’m already in. We’re doing this together, remember?”
He looked like he wanted to argue. Then nodded. “Together.”
The hospital released him that evening. We took a car to Atkins’ place, watching for tails.
“This is insane,” Atkins said when we arrived. “A billionaire and his documentary filmmaker girlfriend hiding in my studio apartment because of corporate assassination attempts. This is not how I thought my week would go.”
“Join the club,” Leander said. “Nothing about the last three months has gone how I expected.”
That night, sharing Atkins’ pull-out couch, Leander held me close.
“I meant what I said in the video. I’d rather lose everything than lose you.”
“You’re not losing anything. We’re going to save your company.”
“How? The vote is in four days. I don’t have the shares. They tried to kill me and might try again. We have no leverage.”
“We have truth. We have evidence of attempted murder. We have Damarise’s merger offer as proof of coordinated pressure. And we have me—someone very good at exposing corruption.”
“You want to document this?”
“I want to weaponize it. Film everything. Make it impossible for them to win quietly. Force everything into public view where they can’t hide.”
He studied me. “You’re brilliant.”
“I’m strategic. I learned from the best.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.”
“Don’t get used to it. I still think you’re impossible.”
“But you love me anyway.”
“Unfortunately.”
We fell asleep tangled together on a too-small couch in a too-small apartment, facing impossible odds.
But we were together.
And that was worth more than fourteen billion dollars.
Worth more than any company.
Worth everything.
Even if we lost it all, at least we’d lose it honestly.
Together.
For real.
Always.
Reader Reactions