Chapter 2

The next morning, I went to Sutton Pages, the children's reading foundation.

We'd set it up in our fifth year of marriage, with startup money from my prenup trust.

"Sutton" was my last name. "Pages" was James's idea—he said every page was a future a kid could turn.

Back then, he'd had his arm around me, saying once the baby was born, we'd build the foundation's first reading room in the city where our child was born.

Sutton Pages wasn't a company. It wasn't some decoration for someone's PR.

It was supposed to be the first letter we ever wrote to our kid.

But when I pushed through the doors, the big screen in the lobby was looping the aurora vlog.

The conference room door swung open.

Sera walked out, wearing a pale cashmere dress, dark circles under her eyes from no sleep.

I stopped when I saw her.

"Aren't you still in Alaska?"

"Everyone's dragging me online." Her voice shook a little. "James told me to come back and handle it."

"Handle what?"

"The backlash." She held out a bottled water.

"Rowan, just post one thing. Say we're friends. Say it was a joke. The internet will back off."

I didn't take the water.

"Why would I speak up for you?"

Her smile finally faltered.

"I know the video upset you. But I didn't think it would blow up like this."

"They're calling me cold-blooded, calling me a homewrecker. Someone dug up the foundation's records and said I was stealing your family..."

"So you think they're wrong?"

"Rowan—"

"The person cut into a punchline in that video was me. The person laughed at was me. The person who just lost her baby was me."

I looked at her. "And now you want me to help you clean up your image?"

Her fingers tightened around the bottle, knuckles going white.

Then she pulled a document from her bag and slapped it on the table.

"Fine. Fine. Then don't blame James when he transfers this foundation to me."

I stared at the papers, my fingers curling slowly.

"Transferring it to you?"

Sera lifted her head and looked me straight in the eye. "Rowan, I'm not here to beg. I'm here to tell you."

"James said if you clear things up, the foundation stays yours, and he stays with you."

"If you won't... then we go through legal channels."

I looked at her, and the whole thing felt absurd.

This woman had used my pain for views, and now she was standing here with a document my husband had signed, ready to take my foundation.

And she stood there like she was doing me a favor by offering me a way out.

I picked up the document and read it for a long time.

Then I set it back down, pulled out my phone, and called my lawyer.

"Tell finance to freeze all future funding from my personal trust. Suspend every future payment from my trust. Effective today."

Sera's smile finally faded.

"You can't do this—"

"This is my money. My name. My foundation."

I looked at her. "I'm taking it back. You got a problem with that?"

"You can't shut down programs for kids over one video—"

"I'm not the one destroying them."

I grabbed my bag and stood up. "You and him are."

She froze.

I looked at her, a dull pain twisting in my belly. My hand moved to cover it instinctively.

There was still a swell there from the birth, but no movement. Nothing kicked back.

When my lawyer arrived, I signed the divestment statement on the spot.

My hand shook hard as I signed.

Five years ago, when I lost my first baby, James held me in the hospital hallway all night.

He said we'd have another. We'd have a real home, a real family.

Later, he built Sutton Pages with my trust. I thought he'd turned that promise into something real.

Now I was deleting my own name from it with my own hand.

It was the last headstone I could give to that future.

The second I finished signing, James called.

Marcus had him on speaker.

"Rowan, what are you doing at the foundation?"

"Taking back my money and my name."

"Do you realize how bad the optics are for Sera right now? If you pull funding now, you're basically confirming what everyone's saying—"

"How is that my problem?"

"You—"

"People are dragging her because she deserves it." My voice was flat.

He went quiet for three seconds.

"I've already called the bank. Your joint accounts are frozen until you calm down."

"Is that my card you're freezing, or the last say I have in this family?"

A few seconds of silence.

"I'm protecting you."

"You're protecting her. Don't get it twisted."

I hung up and handed the signed papers to my lawyer.

Outside the window, the Sutton Pages sign was still lit up.

I didn't care anymore how long it stayed on.