Chapter 10 - Midnight Ledger
The clock on my office wall clicked silently toward midnight.
Outside, the crickets sang their steady southern tune through the open window, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth into the room. Maya, Chloe, and Zoe were tucked safely in their beds upstairs, dreaming of fairy tales and playground slides.
Downstairs, the front door clicked open.
Declan walked into my office without knocking. He wasn't wearing a suit anymore; he had changed into a simple black t-shirt and jeans, his sleeves rolled up, looking less like a Wall Street titan and more like the man I had fallen in love with a decade ago, before ambition and cold boardrooms built walls between us.
In his hand, he held my laptop.
"The board call is open," he said quietly, placing the computer on my desk. The screen glowed with a grid of grim, unsmiling faces belonging to the senior directors of Hawthorne Enterprises—men and women who had spent the last week waiting for Declan to stumble.
On the edge of the desk sat the notarized papers. Next to them lay my black fountain pen.
I looked up at Declan. "You're risking your entire legacy on whether I sign this tonight."
"My legacy isn't a stock ticker or a board seat, Cassidy," he said, pulling out the leather chair beside mine and sitting down. "It's standing right upstairs. And the only way I keep it is if you choose to let me."
I reached out, my fingers wrapping around the cool metal of the pen.
Across the screen, Arthur Vance’s voice crackled through the speakers. "Mr. Hawthorne, the clock is running. Do you have the necessary documentation for the trust succession?"
Declan didn't look at the screen. He kept his eyes locked on mine.
I pulled the document toward me, uncapped the pen, and signed my name at the bottom of the page in a clean, decisive stroke. Then, I slid the papers across the desk toward Declan.
He picked up the pen, signed his name beside mine, and pressed the encrypted upload button that transmitted the certified paternity and trust documents directly to the legal vault in Manhattan.
On the screen, Arthur Vance’s expression shifted from tense professional neutrality to sudden, absolute shock. "Documents received, verified, and logged. The Hawthorne trust succession is secured. Congratulations, Mr. Hawthorne."
A collective murmur rippled through the board grid on the monitor before Declan reached out and snapped the laptop lid shut, cutting off the corporate world entirely.
The silence that followed in the room was heavy, warm, and absolute.
Declan let out a long breath, resting his elbows on the desk and burying his face in his hands for a brief moment before looking back up at me. A slow, genuine smile—one I hadn't seen in five years—spread across his face.
"So," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Does this mean I'm allowed to stay in the guest cottage tomorrow?"
May you like
"Only if you promise to mow the lawn," I replied, a small smile breaking through my own defenses as I reached across the desk and let my hand rest over his. "And no corporate takeovers before breakfast."
Declan turned his hand over, interlocking his fingers tightly with mine. "Deal."
