Annika James and Emma Sanchez hit the stores together, picking out sweaters, a jacket, and a cozy pajama set for Annika’s dad, Andrew. They loaded their shopping bags into Emma’s car.

On the drive back to Annika’s place, she suddenly blurted out, “Emma, it’s been ages since we hit up O'Malley's.”

O'Malley's was that charming little pub Annika used to haunt back in her college days, especially when finals stress had her climbing the walls. After Bowen Flores died, it became her go-to spot to drown her sorrows late into the night. She’d stopped going as much after marrying Xavier Parker, but this year she’d started drifting back to that old haunt.

Emma gave a nod and steered the car toward their beloved watering hole.

They slid into a snug booth and ordered their usual. O'Malley's—a small, unassuming joint with decent prices—was Annika’s escape from the snobby stares of Seattle’s elite.

As they chatted, Emma brought up Andrew. “Last time I saw your dad, he seemed way better. He’s not sleeping as much, and his memory’s been getting sharper. Annika, honestly, I think he’s gonna make a full recovery one day.”

Annika gave a half-hearted smile. “The Parkers made sure he got the best doctors. No surprise the results are good.”

Emma caught the edge in Annika’s voice. Studying her friend, she asked, “You still think your dad’s accident had something to do with Lina’s family?”

Annika kept her face smooth. “Molly Watkins might not like me, but she’s the one who stepped up when my dad had his accident. She lined up the doctors, found us a lawyer. Even stood by me through the drunk driver’s trial.”

Annika paused, then added, “But Xavier swears it had nothing to do with her family.”

Emma got it. Annika trusted Xavier, but she wasn’t about to let go of finding out the truth.

Just as Annika took another sip of wine, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and hit ignore.

Xavier kept calling, and by the sixth ring, Emma finally picked up.

“Hey, Xavier? It’s Emma.”

There was a pause on the line. “Where’s Annika?”

Emma shot a look at Annika, who was nursing her drink. “Oh, Annika’s had a little too much tonight. Didn’t hear her phone.”

Another beat of silence. “Where are you?” Xavier asked.

“At O'Malley's.”

Xavier didn’t say anything, so Emma added, “Don’t worry, I’ll get her home safe. I’m DD tonight, and she just wanted to blow off some steam.”

He hung up without another word.

Emma turned to Annika with a wink. “Go ahead and let loose. Tonight’s on me!”

Annika cracked a wry smile. “You really think he won’t show?”

“Come on, you trust me, right?” Emma teased. “Didn’t I promise to get you home safe?”

Annika sighed. “It’s not about trust—it’s about him steamrolling what I want. Even if I tell him, he won’t listen. Like what you just said, I wanted to stay out longer. He’ll just decide it’s late and time to head home.”

Emma paused, at a loss for words.

Sure enough, half an hour later, the door to their booth swung open.

Xavier stood there in a gray coat, his eyes zeroed in on Annika. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin glowing from the wine as she kept drinking. Xavier crossed the room in long strides, stopping right at her side.

She barely glanced his way.

Emma tried to smooth things over. “Xavier, I told you Annika wanted to stay for a few more drinks.”

Xavier turned to Annika. “It’s late. Let’s head home.”

Emma was stunned. His words echoed Annika’s prediction perfectly. For a second, she couldn’t tell if this couple was creepily in sync or just completely at odds.

Annika’s voice, tinged with laughter, cut through the tension.

“It’s only ten,” she shot back, lifting his coat sleeve to flash his watch, her eyes bright but glassy from the booze. “You roll in at two or three A.M. all the time. I never demand you come home early.”

Xavier replied, “I’m working.”

“Oh, right, because work is supposedly more important than relaxing?” Annika poured herself another drink. “Is that Molly’s high-society crap about putting work above everything?”

Xavier frowned slightly. “Annika, she’s not just Molly. She’s your mom.”

“She’s your mom,” Annika snapped, then hesitated, as if realizing how hard that might’ve hit. In a softer voice, she added, “She never treated me like a daughter.”

The memory of that slap at the Parker estate rose up. She hadn’t flinched then—the cold wind had numbed her face. But now, fueled by the alcohol, anger surged through her veins.

Xavier slid an arm around Annika. “Let’s go home. You smell like a brewery. I’ll run you a hot bath.”

He coaxed her gently, like calming a kitten.

But Annika was no kitten. She was Annika James.

Annika burst into tears. “I said I wanted to drink a little longer! Why do you make me leave? Go find Lina. I’ll stay here and drink, and we won’t bother each other.”

Xavier’s face darkened. “Why would I go looking for her in the middle of the night?”

“Like you’ve never done that before?”

Xavier realized she was still hung up on Lina. He rubbed his temples, trying to explain. “Stuff comes up.”

Emma cut in, “Seriously? Come on! If you skipped one visit, would the world end? Remember high school, when we had to get blood tests? Just a tiny needle, and she bawled her eyes out from the sports field all the way to the classroom. I thought someone was really hurt and ran over to check. But she showed me this itty-bitty needle mark—I barely got there before it healed.”

Annika remembered that. Back then, Emma and Lina hadn’t been at odds. Emma, an art student, had been training in another building and spotted Lina crying from a distance, rushing over worried. It seemed like Lina always made a big deal out of nothing, dragging everyone into her drama until she got what she wanted. Once, Bowen and Nash had to put up with her theatrics. After Bowen died, Xavier had taken on that burden.

Annika’s tears came out of nowhere. Xavier held her gently, his brow furrowing slightly. She’d gotten way more emotional lately—this was the second time in just two days she’d broken down in front of him.

In the past, Annika hardly ever cried. Even when the Turner family threatened her, she’d only get a little misty-eyed, mumbling apologies over and over but never actually letting a tear fall.

Xavier softly brushed her cheek with his thumb, swiping the tears away as they fell. “What’s going on? Are you still upset about earlier?”

He figured the blowout with Molly must have shaken her. “We’ll head to the manor tomorrow and give her a piece of our mind.”

Annika, eyes still red, shot him a look. “Easy for you to say. Who’s actually going to confront her—you or me?”

“Why don’t we, uh, wreck her garden instead?” he suggested, the corner of his mouth twitching, though he knew he’d never actually destroy his mother’s prized flower beds. “We could tear up all her beloved roses, scatter the petals everywhere. Those blooms are her pride and joy. How does that sound?”

Emma, listening from the side, couldn’t help but be taken aback by how far Xavier would go to cheer Annika up.

When Xavier tried to steer the conversation toward their in-law troubles, Annika felt a wave of exhaustion. She couldn’t bring herself to care about those relationships. Molly had never liked her, right from the start. Annika had bent over backward to win her over for Xavier’s sake, but it had gotten her nowhere. The more she groveled, the less respect Molly gave her.

Xavier kept soothing her. “No more anger, no more sadness, okay? Whatever you bought today, it’s on me.”

Annika looked at him. “I didn’t buy much—just some winter stuff for my dad.”

Xavier let out a soft chuckle. “I had a massage chair shipped from Germany for your dad. It got here this afternoon. We’ll take it over tomorrow. It’s custom-made with head massage functions—should really help with his neurological rehab.”

Annika’s mood slowly started to lift.

Xavier knew her inside out, and he knew her soft spot—her dad. He was her Achilles’ heel. Over the years, Xavier had taken exceptional care of her father. He’d arranged the best specialists, top-tier caregivers, and every single week—no matter how swamped he was—he carved out half a day to meet with the medical team, reviewing Andrew’s progress and mapping out next steps. Hell, last week when he was in South Africa, he still joined the conference call, time difference be damned. The doctors would often reassure Annika, “With Xavier in charge of your dad’s care, you can breathe easy. He just greenlit a million-dollar budget for 24/7 brainwave monitoring and custom drug development tailored to your father’s genetic and cellular profile. It’s leagues ahead of anything else out there.”

Annika couldn’t help but be moved.

Seeing her mood improve, Emma stepped in. “Annika, why don’t you let Xavier drive you home? You’ve had a bit to drink, so just take it easy.”

Annika nodded. “Okay. Drive safe.”

Xavier replied, “I will. I’ll text you when I get home.”

Annika turned, then paused. “Oh wait—I need to use the restroom first.”

Ah, the awkwardness of being stuck alone with your bestie’s husband while she’s in the bathroom.

Emma had never known a minute to drag on so long. She kept stealing glances at the restroom door, willing Annika to come back. The pub was toasty warm, but Xavier’s presence cast an icy chill. He had this unsettling ability to make even the coziest room feel cold.

Emma had barely exchanged a word alone with Xavier since meeting him. As Annika’s best friend, she always kept it strictly boundary-appropriate, steering clear of one-on-one chats. But now…

“Hey, Xavier. You need to be good to Annika, you hear?”

Xavier dropped his gaze, a hint of amusement flickering over his face. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“You are,” Emma admitted, “but you’re also really good to Lina. So good, actually, that it kind of makes what you do for Annika feel… less special.”

Xavier stayed silent for a beat. Then, “It’s different. Annika gets why I do what I do.”

“Gets what? That Bowen thing?” Emma frowned. “You know that wasn’t entirely her fault.”

Xavier’s stare went arctic.

Emma felt the temperature drop and shut her mouth. She was, admittedly, a little scared of him, but she couldn’t let it slide—not when it came to Annika. After the accident, Annika would spend night after night at O’Malley’s, drinking herself into a weepy, exhausted mess. One night, blind drunk, she tried to smash an empty bottle against her own head. Emma grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing, trying to hurt yourself?”

“I have to pay for what I did,” Annika sobbed. “Guilt demands a price. It’s only fair.”

“Who even are you blaming?” Emma almost shouted. “Life gets messy—nobody asks for tragedy. You didn’t hurt Bowen. You’re just… you’re just…”

She wanted to say Annika was just unlucky, but it felt like a slap in the face to Bowen, who’d been incredible—one of the best men Emma had ever known.

Annika sniffed, slumping against Emma’s shoulder, voice small. “That day, Xavier and I got into this huge fight, and I just… stormed out. Bowen called, asking where I was. I told him I was wandering down Fifth Avenue. He said he’d come find me. I told him not to, that I just needed to clear my head, and I’d head home in a bit. I promised I’d be fine, told him not to worry…”

“Bowen—he promised he wouldn’t come. He said I deserved some space, even asked me to call him once I got home safe…”

“So why? Why did he end up on Oak Street? Why did he come for me anyway and get himself killed in that crash?”

Emma caught the weirdness right away. Fifth Avenue and Oak Street? They’re nowhere near each other—one’s on the south side, the other’s north. At first, she’d figured maybe Bowen had gotten turned around, driving all over the city looking for Annika. But the man knew exactly where she was, so what was he doing on Oak Street?

“So why would Bowen have gotten into an accident on Oak Street if he was headed to Fifth Avenue to find you?” Emma asked quietly.

Annika was quiet for a long time. Then, barely a whisper: “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

And suddenly, it clicked for Emma. Of course.

Everyone knew Bowen had gone out that night because of Annika. Everyone knew he’d been on his way to her. At this point, it didn’t matter if the accident happened on Oak Street or the moon. The narrative was set in stone.

Even if Bowen hadn’t been driving to Annika at all, it was too late to change the story. Annika couldn’t exactly argue, ‘But I was on Fifth Avenue, and he died on Oak Street, so I’m not responsible.’ Not without sounding like she was deflecting blame onto a dead man.

Annika was shackled by guilt, utterly convinced she’d played a part in Bowen’s death.

It was a lose-lose situation.

Nobody blames the dead. Nobody questions the decisions of someone who’s no longer here. So all the blame, every last ounce of it, landed squarely on Annika’s shoulders.

On the drive back, Annika James was starting to feel sleepy. The wine she'd had at Xavier Parker's place wasn't as fine as the bottles in his cellar, but even the cheap stuff packed a punch. She frowned, swaying slightly in her seat, and complained, "Can't you drive any smoother? Why's it so bumpy?"

Xavier raised an eyebrow and glanced at her, amused by her kinda unreasonable complaint. She was pretty endearing like this.

"The road's full of potholes from all the trucks. Even a Ferrari couldn't glide over 'em."

Annika pointed out the window. "Look at that car, it's not bouncing around, it's just cruising along so smooth."

"You only think it looks smooth from out here. If you were inside, you'd be bouncing up and down, too."

"Nonsense. You're just a crappy driver."

"Yeah, yeah," Xavier grinned, "I'm the second-worst driver in the world."

"Why second?" Annika murmured sleepily, eyes closing. "Who's the worst?"

Of course, it was Annika herself—who once, during a driving lesson, knocked over traffic cones, panicked, and refused to go back, never getting her license.

Xavier said, "My star, my Annika will always be number one."

Whether she heard him or not, Annika dozed off, the gentle motion of the car and the wine lulling her to sleep.

When they got home, Xavier carried her inside. Since she'd overindulged and couldn't exactly shower, he gently undressed her and wiped her down with a warm cloth. The house was warm, and her cool skin felt soothing beneath his fingertips.

A few times, Xavier nearly lost control; it was torture. But he didn't want to make her uncomfortable or wake her, so he held back. Once he'd dressed her and tucked her in, he took a cold shower. When he climbed into bed, he wrapped an arm around her waist. She murmured, "Ah, so cold."

Xavier chuckled softly. After a cold shower, how could he be anything but chilly? Still, he moved away a bit, letting his body warm up before pulling Annika close again.

—

When Annika woke the next morning, Xavier was already gone. The spot beside her was cool, meaning he'd left a while ago. Checking her phone, she saw it was nine o'clock.

She shot up, puzzled why her eight o'clock alarm hadn't gone off. When she checked, it had been turned off. Annika, who prided herself on her reliable memory, was positive she'd set it. After a moment, she called Xavier.

"Did you turn off my alarm?"

"Yeah," Xavier replied, his voice barely audible over the background noise. "I turned it off so you could sleep in."

Annika clenched her fists. "Did it ever occur to you that I set that alarm for a reason? Maybe I actually needed to get up?"

There was a pause before Xavier said, "Oh, sorry. I just thought maybe it was a glitch since you never get up before eleven."

Annika gritted her teeth. "Did you forget we're supposed to visit my dad today?"

"My dear Annika," Xavier sighed, "I haven't forgotten. That's why I came to the office early to handle some things. I've sent Rayan to wait for you at the door. You head there first, and I'll be no more than half an hour late."

Annika instinctively wanted to ask if he'd actually show up, but she held back. Never mind. She hung up, got ready quickly, and opened her closet. From among the high-end coats, she chose a cream wool coat she'd bought herself; it wasn't pricey but was super comfortable and warm. She paired it with cashmere wide-leg pants and a bright blue scarf—her father once told her a pop of bright color in winter gave a lively look.

Once ready, Annika left the house. At the door, she found a food container. The moment she opened it, she recognized the meticulous handiwork of their housekeeper. A note was tucked inside.

"Mrs. Parker, Mr. Parker mentioned you had an early start today, so I packed some breakfast for you. Safe travels."

Annika smiled slightly, folded the note carefully, and put it in her pocket before grabbing the breakfast and getting into Rayan's car.

Inside, a faint cinnamon scent lingered. Annika noticed but didn't comment. Instead, she asked, "Is Xavier really busy today?"

Rayan hesitated, then nodded. "Mostly dealing with PR stuff. It's a busy time."

"Did something happen that needs PR?" Annika asked.

Rayan couldn't say much, so he replied vaguely, "Nothing major. Mr. Parker will deal with it."

Seeing his reluctance, Annika decided not to push, figuring it was company business.

By the time Annika reached the care home, it was ten forty-two. In the hallway outside her father's room, she spotted a familiar woman on the phone, looking a bit annoyed. Seeing Annika, the woman ended the call and faced her.

Annika approached, greeting, "Mom."

Ocean Watkins, Annika's mother, was forty-five but looked well-maintained, exuding an elegance straight out of an old movie. Annika had inherited her mother's beauty and was considered even more striking.

Despite this, her relationship with her mother was nowhere near as close as the one with her father. Ocean and Annika's father, Andrew, divorced when Annika was ten—Andrew's constant involvement with the Parker family was a life Ocean no longer wanted. She chose to leave, and Annika stayed with her father, who continued to send Ocean a generous portion of his income after the divorce.

When Annika was eleven, Ocean remarried and had a son, Timothy. Since then, interactions between Annika and her mother dwindled to birthdays or holidays, often with Timothy in tow. Whenever Annika tried to connect with Ocean, Timothy's cries would draw Ocean away, leaving Annika feeling like an outsider watching her mother dote on another child.

Even now, those memories still stung.

Since Andrew's accident, Ocean rarely visited the care home, so this was the first time Annika had seen her mother here.

"Mom, what brings you here today?" Annika asked first.

Ocean seemed put off. "Are you implying I don't visit your father enough?"

"I didn't mean it that way," Annika replied. She considered saying more, but let it go. "Let's go see Dad."

"Your father's asleep," Ocean said, sitting down on a bench by the room. "I need to talk to you about something. Sit down."

Annika pressed her lips together but complied.

Ocean's gaze swept over Annika's outfit, and she sighed with clear disapproval. "Annika, you're Xavier Parker's wife now, married to the CEO of Parker Group, a figure in high society. Why dress like a teenager? Look at that wool coat—it has no shape. And those pants…" She shook her head. "Annika, you're not a schoolgirl anymore. Dressing isn't just about being comfortable; it's about presenting yourself. In this outfit, who's going to recognize you as Mrs. Parker?"