Too Late For His Love

lar empire. For ten years, I was his secret weapon, the gh

-eyed intern, Cassidy, the m

ve-year-old son from his priv

e orchestrated a car crash that left me paralyzed on an ope

rrow. I heard him give the order: "Keep her alive. If

me, that I was just anoth

a genius always has

go. As the military helicopter lifted off with my son and me, I ga

ttle bird. I was tak

pte

ry

polished mahogany of his private jet. He didn' t shout. He didn' t even raise his voice. He just leaned across the table, h

is she,

o had become his obsession, to be sent away. A quiet transfer to a European subsidiary, a generous severance, a clean break.

s a

ke," I said, my own voice trem

sharp. This wasn' t the Blake I knew. The man I' d loved for ten years, the man I' d built an empire for f

close I could smell the expensive whisk

alked to the back of the cabin where our five-year-old son, Jagger, was s

, stirring from his sleep

d dread, thick and suff

el smile playing on his lips. He reached down and smoothly unb

ening hum, but in that moment, all I could h

I whispered, my

arm. With his other hand, he reached for the handle of the jet' s door

pierced through the engine noise. He reached for

he code I' d written, the empire we' d built, the billions i

begged, tears streaming

dangerously calm. "You have until I count to thr

tiny apartment, fueled by cheap coffee and love. I was the architect, the genius behind the code that would become

me one night, his arms wrapped around me as we looked o

is secret weapon, his ghost in the machine. "Davenport Dynamics," he' d announced at the first press conference

ve up my name, my recognition, my o

e' s fragile ego in a way my quiet competence never could. He called her his

rs. He was showing her a sketch, and she was looking up at him with wide, worshipful eyes. The intimacy o

from his desk, replacing it with a sleek, minimalist sculpture. He claimed it was for

Tw

agger was screaming now, his small body struggling against h

he do this? How could he look at his own son, his ow

ke!" I shrieked, my

s words a death sentence to the love I once had f

"Tell me, and we can go back to how things were. You, me, Jagg

o reason with the monster wearing my husband' s face. He wouldn'

n'

hre

ved towards

ds tearing from my throat. "I sent h

smile returned. He casually tossed a whimpering J

t, his voice crisp and authoritative.

I ceased to exist. I crawled over to my son, gathering his trembling body

ife together. All of it erased in a single, terrifying mome

empire, Avery. Everything I have is yours." But that empire was bu

bought her extravagant gifts, showered her with attention, treated her like a fragile doll. He indulged her every wh

. Blake and Cassidy, tangled together in the sheets of our marital bed. Her head was thrown ba

. He told me. He said y

d. I switched off the phone, a strange calm settling over me. I sat in the sterile airport lounge, waiting for m

self-worth, for the sake of a marriage that had become a prison. I had told mysel

s wr

ly constant the burning intelligence inside my own head. Blake was my first lo

m

hatch I never thought I' d need. It was an offer to join a top-secret government initiative, Project Chimera, a 20-year quantum computing project in a remot

n simple: if I ever activated th

y in my arms, his face stained with tears

avenport wanted his little bir

take every