JULIAN'S POV
I drove fast—too fast—through Vancouver's empty streets at midnight with Avery in my passenger seat and someone's threat burning a hole in my phone.
"Where are we going?" Avery asked again, gripping the door handle as I took a corner harder than necessary.
"My lake house. Two hours north. No neighbors. No cameras." I checked the rearview mirror for the third time. "No one watching us."
Someone had photographed us through our kitchen window. Had our phone numbers. Was threatening to expose us.
The lawyer in me knew we should go to the police.
The man in me knew that would destroy everything faster than any blackmailer could.
Because the photo showed the truth: I looked at my stepdaughter like I wanted to devour her.
And once the police saw that, questions would follow. Investigation. Diane would find out. The legal community would crucify me. Avery's reputation would be shredded.
No. We needed to figure out who was doing this quietly. Privately.
Before our world exploded.
"What if it's Derek?" Avery said suddenly. "He knows where we live. He was angry when I broke up with him."
"Maybe." I'd already considered that. "But Derek's a trust fund brat who throws tantrums. This feels calculated. Professional."
"Then who?"
"I don't know." That was what terrified me. "But someone's been watching us long enough to get that photo. Which means they know more than what they showed us."
Avery went pale. "How much more?"
I thought about every moment between us over the past week. The study confrontation. The kitchen almost-kiss. Me standing outside her bedroom door at 2 AM like a lovesick stalker.
If someone had cameras, they had everything.
"Enough to destroy us," I said quietly.
The lake house appeared through the trees—a modern cabin I'd bought years ago as an escape from city life. Diane had come here twice, complained about the isolation, never returned.
It had become my sanctuary.
Now it was our hiding place.
I killed the engine. Silence pressed in around us, broken only by cricket sounds and our breathing.
"We're safe here?" Avery asked.
"As safe as anywhere." I grabbed our emergency bags from the trunk—I'd thrown together clothes and toiletries in three minutes while Avery stood guard. "No one knows about this place except Marcus and Diane."
"And you trust them?"
Did I? Marcus was my best friend, but I'd been lying to him for years about my feelings. And Diane...
Diane was in Milan, oblivious to the fact that her husband and daughter were falling apart without her.
"I don't trust anyone right now," I admitted.
Inside, I flipped on lights and checked every window. All locked. All curtained. The lake house had security cameras I'd installed last year—I pulled up the feed on my phone.
Empty driveway. Dark woods. No cars following us.
For now.
"Julian." Avery's voice made me turn. She stood in the middle of the living room, hugging herself, looking young and scared and so beautiful it hurt. "What are we going to do?"
I didn't have an answer.
The smart play was damage control: figure out who sent the message, pay them off or threaten legal action, then go back to our separate lives and never speak of this again.
But looking at her now—really looking, without guilt or fear stopping me—I knew the truth.
I didn't want to go back to separate lives.
I wanted her.
God help me, I wanted everything.
"First, we figure out who's targeting us," I said, forcing myself into lawyer mode. "Then we neutralize the threat."
"And after?"
"After... I don't know."
She stepped closer. "Yes, you do. You're just scared to say it."
"Of course I'm scared." My voice came out rough. "Someone has evidence that I'm in love with my stepdaughter. That I've been looking at you like—" I cut myself off.
"Like what?"
"Like you're mine."
The words hung between us, dangerous and true.
Avery closed the distance until she stood right in front of me. "What if I want to be yours?"
"Don't." I backed away, hitting the wall. "We're here to hide from a blackmailer, not—"
"Not what? Finally admit what we both want?" Her eyes flashed. "Someone's trying to destroy us for feelings we haven't even acted on. Maybe we should stop running from each other and start running toward something."
"You don't know what you're saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying." She pressed her palm against my chest, right over my racing heart. "We have two choices, Julian. We can keep pretending and let this secret eat us alive. Or we can face it."
"Facing it means losing everything."
"Pretending means losing each other."
Her logic was flawed—we'd never had each other to lose. But my body didn't care about logic. It cared about the heat of her hand through my shirt. The smell of her shampoo. The way she looked at me like I was her whole world.
"I'm trying to protect you," I said desperately.
"From who? The blackmailer? Or from yourself?"
Both. Neither. I didn't know anymore.
My phone buzzed. We both jumped.
Another unknown number. Another message.
I opened it with shaking hands.
Unknown: Running won't help. I know about the lake house too. I know everything, Julian. Every dirty thought. Every forbidden touch. Every lie you've told Diane.
My blood went ice-cold.
Below the message was another photo. This one taken an hour ago—Avery and me running to my car, emergency bags in hand, looking exactly like what we were: two people fleeing into the night together.
"Oh God," Avery whispered, reading over my shoulder. "They followed us."
The next message came immediately:
Unknown: Here's the deal. $500,000 by Friday, or every photo, every message, every piece of evidence goes to Diane, your law firm, and every news outlet in Vancouver. You'll be finished. Both of you.
My hands clenched around the phone. "This isn't random. Someone's been planning this."
"Who would want to destroy you this badly?"
"I don't know. But they've been watching for weeks at least. Maybe months." My mind raced through possibilities. "Someone at the firm? A disgruntled client? An ex—"
I stopped.
"What?" Avery demanded.
"Diane's ex-boyfriend. Before me. He was... angry when she chose me. Threatened legal action over some business deal." I'd handled it quietly, paid him off to go away. "Robert Chen."
Avery's eyes went wide. "That's my mom's maiden name. Is he related to us?"
"Distant cousin. He was obsessed with Diane. When she married me instead of him, he sent threatening emails for months before I got a restraining order."
"That was six years ago. Why come after you now?"
"Maybe he's been watching us this whole time. Waiting for ammunition." The pieces clicked into place with horrible clarity. "He's a private investigator. He'd have the skills. The patience. The connections."
"So what do we do?"
I looked at her—this brave, fierce woman who'd somehow become my entire world—and made a decision that would either save us or damn us.
"We don't pay him." My voice came out cold. Calculated. "We destroy him first."
"How?"
"By giving him exactly what he wants." I pulled her close, ignoring every warning bell in my head. "He wants evidence of our relationship? Fine. We'll give him something so explosive, so undeniable, that when we expose him for blackmail and stalking, no one will believe anything he says."
"I don't understand."
"We fake evidence. Create a timeline that shows his harassment started first. Make it look like he's targeting me out of jealousy and fabricating inappropriate photos." I was thinking like a lawyer now, building a case. "Then we go to the police, file charges, and bury him before he can touch us."
It was risky. Insane. But it might work.
Avery stared at me. "You'd do that? Risk everything?"
"To protect you?" I cupped her face, finally letting myself touch her the way I'd wanted to for six years. "I'd burn the world down."
Her breath hitched. "Julian—"
My phone rang. Not a text this time. A call from the unknown number.
I answered, putting it on speaker.
"Hello, Julian." The voice was distorted, digitally altered. "I hope you're enjoying my little game."
"Who are you?"
"Someone who's been waiting a very long time to watch you fall." The voice laughed. "You have until Friday. Pay up, or everyone knows your dirty secret. And trust me—I have enough evidence to destroy you both."
"You won't get away with this."
"I already have. Face it, Julian. You lost the moment you looked at your stepdaughter and decided she was worth more than your marriage."
The line went dead.
Avery and I stood in the silent lake house, the weight of our situation crushing down on us.
"We're trapped," she whispered.
I looked at her—at this woman I loved more than my career, my reputation, my life—and made a choice.
"No," I said firmly. "We fight."
Then my phone buzzed one more time.
Another photo. This one was different.
It showed Diane—my wife, Avery's mother—getting out of a car in Milan with a man's arm around her waist. They were kissing. Not a friendly peck. A deep, passionate kiss.
Below it, one message:
Unknown: Your wife's been keeping secrets too. Maybe you're not the only monster in this family.
Avery stared at the photo, her face going white. "Mom's cheating?"
I looked at the evidence of Diane's affair and felt something crack open inside me.
Relief.
Because if Diane had moved on, if she'd found someone else, maybe—just maybe—we weren't the villains in this story.
Maybe we were just two people trying to find happiness in impossible circumstances.
"Everything just changed," I said quietly.
Avery looked up at me, questions in her eyes.
And I kissed her.
Finally.
After six years of wanting and waiting and fighting myself, I pulled her close and kissed her like I was drowning and she was air.
She melted into me, her hands fisting in my shirt, kissing me back with desperate hunger.
We broke apart gasping.
"We can't—" she started.
"I don't care anymore," I said against her lips. "Let them destroy us. You're worth it."