Jeremy let out a frustrated breath, throwing himself back onto the bed, his hands resting behind his head. "Seems like it," he muttered, his voice tinged with irritation. "Perfect timing, right?" Hope crossed her arms, pacing slightly in the small space, her thoughts running in circles. "Great. Just great," she muttered to herself, still trying to shake off the discomfort she’d felt from their earlier conversation. The unexpected turn of events—getting stuck in this room, alone with Jeremy—wasn't exactly how she’d envisioned this night going. "You know, I’m starting to think the universe is against us," Hope said, trying to lighten the mood but failing miserably. Jeremy chuckled, the sound low and almost resigned. "Yeah, well, when it rains, it pours.” Hope shot him a sideways glance, realizing that this situation was somehow bringing them closer. Whether she liked it or not, they were stuck together, and there was nowhere to hide from the rawness of their conversation or the t

The ride to the office was uneventful, though Jeremy's incessant humming filled the silence. Hope kept her gaze fixed on the passing cityscape, mentally bracing herself for whatever meetings ahead. When they arrived at the towering glass building, Jeremy held the door open for her, offering a mock bow sarcastically, "After you, my lady." Hope ignored his theatrics as she rolled her eyes, stepping inside and heading toward the elevators. The familiar hum of activity surrounded them—phones ringing, the chatter of coworkers, and the steady click of keyboards. The elevator ride to the upper floor was tense, neither of them speaking now. Hope was focused on calming her nerves while Jeremy leaned casually against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets. The moment the elevator doors slid open, Hope froze. Ethan was standing just outside, his sharp suit freshly pressed and his smirk as infuriating as ever. "Well, well," Ethan drawled, his eyes flicked between Hope and Jeremy. "If

Hope's mind raced as the weight of Vivian's words settled in. Her parents teaming up? It didn’t make sense—not in the way it usually did. Sure, her dad had always been a calculated man, but he rarely collaborated with anyone, let alone Vivian, who was more like a force of nature than a partner. “Believe?” Jeremy snapped, stopping in his tracks. “Vivian, I just walked out of a holding cell, and you’re asking me to have faith in some plan I don’t even know about?” “It’s not just a plan,” Vivian countered smoothly, her eyes narrowing. “It’s a solution. One that ensures Ethan doesn’t get to use his influence to destroy you.” Jeremy scoffed, crossing his arms. “Great. And what exactly does this ‘solution’ entail? A lecture? A slap on the wrist?” Vivian’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t answer. Instead, her gaze turned to Hope, who was watching the exchange in stunned silence. “Hope,” Vivian said quietly, “you’ll understand more tonight when your father explains ever

Jeremy exhaled loudly as he walked around, his hands were deeply rooted in his pockets. His mind raced and if felt , tangled with frustration and doubt. He didn’t know where he was going, nor did he particularly care. He just needed to move—to escape the suffocating weight pressing down on him.When he finally drove home, the halls of the Sinclair estate loomed larger than his life, their grandeur cold and unwelcoming. Every detail—the gold-framed paintings, the towering pillars, and the elaborate chandeliers—mocked him, as if silently reminding him of the legacy he was bound to uphold. A legacy he hadn’t asked for.The echoes of his footsteps felt utterly deafening as he moved through the vast space, his chest tightened with every passing second. Eventually, his restless wandering led him outside to the garden o the soft glow of the morning.But it wasn’t enough.Jeremy raked his hands through his hair and sighed heavily. He needed to talk to someone. He needed to talk to his mother,

Jeremy took a deep breath, his hand lingered on the doorknob as he contemplated his next move. The house seemed quieter than usual despite the bustling preparations for the wedding downstairs. The faint hum of conversations and the occasional sound of laughter floated up, a stark contrast to the turmoil in his chest. He couldn’t do this. Not without talking to Hope. Sliding on a pair of soft loafers, Jeremy made his way down the grand staircase, dodging staff and family members along the way. Everyone seemed too preoccupied to notice him—or maybe they were just giving him space, sensing the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. Hope was still standing in the corner of the ballroom when he found her. She looked radiant in a custom-made gown, the delicate lace sleeves and beaded bodice catching the light in a way that seemed almost otherworldly. But it wasn’t her beauty that stopped him in his tracks—it was the look in her eyes. She was nervous “Hope,” he called softly. S