After the housekeeper left, Annika sat alone at the dining table. Her tears splashed into her food, turning every bite salty and warm. By the time she met up with Emma Sanchez that afternoon, Emma could tell right away she'd been crying. Her face grew serious.

"What happened?" Emma asked, her voice tight with worry. "It's not worth getting worked up over someone like Lina Turner. If you're really that fed up, I'll go with you to her place and we'll rip that stupid necklace to shreds!"

Annika, her eyes still puffy, forced a smile. "It's not about her," she sniffled. "My housekeeper is leaving. She cooked the most amazing meals, and I won't get to eat like that anymore."

Emma studied Annika for a long moment. There were a million things that could make Annika cry—Xavier's favoritism toward Lina, the crap the Parker and Turner families put her through, years of bottled-up frustration. But it was this one tiny thing that finally broke her.

Emma sat down across from her. "Annika, remember that therapist I told you about? Did you ever go see them?"

Annika dodged the question. "I'm not crazy. Why would I go to a therapist?"

Emma gave her a worried look. "You don't have to be messed up to see a therapist. If something's eating at you and you don't know who to talk to, that's literally what they're there for."

"No way. Just thinking about therapists makes me feel better," Annika said stubbornly. She'd hated hospitals and doctors since she was a kid. The mere thought of a needle could cure any symptom—she honestly felt like she could suit up for a football game afterward.

Seeing Annika's walls go up, Emma let it drop. Instead, she asked, "You're going to see your dad tomorrow, right? Is Xavier coming with you?"

Annika nodded, then shook her head, finally admitting, "I'm not sure."

He always went with her before, but a couple of times he ditched her for Lina. It really got to Annika. Even though Xavier promised it wouldn't happen again, Annika wasn't so sure he'd actually follow through.

Wanting to get Annika's mind off Lina, Emma switched gears. "Why don't we go pick up some sweaters for your dad? It's getting chilly, and he's always been sensitive to the cold."

Annika agreed, and as they left the café, they bumped right into Nash Sanchez.

"Annika, fancy meeting you here," he said with a grin.

Annika was startled to see him. Recovering, she asked, "You're back?"

"Yeah, I got back last night and picked up Lina from the Parker estate," Nash said.

Annika's mind immediately went to Xavier—had he not taken Lina home yesterday? Catching her expression, Nash added, "Annika, I owe you an apology."

"For what?"

"I'm the one who asked Xavier to go with Lina to her prenatal check-up. I didn't give you a heads up, and it caused problems between you two. I'm really sorry."

His genuine apology threw Annika off a little. There were plenty of reasons she and Xavier argued, and it wasn't just about Lina's appointments. She still couldn't quite put her finger on the real issue.

After a beat, she replied, "It's fine. We fight for sport."

Nash, always the charmer, chuckled. "As long as you're not still mad at him."

"We should head out," Annika said, and with a nod from Nash, she and Emma walked on.

Emma glanced back at Nash. He was tall and lean, with a boyish face thanks to those bangs, giving him this sweet, wholesome vibe. From certain angles, he reminded her of that British actor, Tom Holland.

Turning back to Annika, Emma whispered, "I swear, Lina Turner doesn't know how lucky she is. She's got a husband like that, and she's still chasing after someone else's man."

"But Nash has nerve," Emma went on, "being her backup plan all those years and still marrying her. And now he's acting all noble about it."

Nash had known Annika and Lina since they were kids. His family wasn't as big name as the Parkers or Turners, but they still ran in the same circles, so they'd cross paths a lot growing up. He'd always had a thing for Lina, trailing after her even though she was always brushing him off, calling him a pest and doing everything to avoid him.

Emma met Annika in high school, and since they were friends, she ended up seeing Nash around a lot—always chasing after Lina just to get shut down.

Emma had once said to Lina, "Nash is actually a pretty decent guy. He's cute, he's polite. You don't have to treat him like crap."

Lina had shot back, "You don't think it's annoying having someone constantly there, someone you can't get rid of no matter what you do? Don't people have any pride? How can someone be that shameless?"

Emma could only say, "Because he likes you."

That's love for you—makes people lose all shame.

Emma and Lina were actually close once—until that fateful English class. The teacher had everyone pick an English name. Emma and Lina both went with "Cindy." Since Emma was older and taller, people started calling her "Big Cindy" and Lina "Little Cindy."

Lina kept quiet at first, but later she was ranting to everyone, "Why do I have to be Little Cindy? I'm prettier and richer. Emma is just some country bumpkin—she doesn't even deserve a name like Cindy."

Word got back to Emma, and they had a huge blowout. Annika tried to play peacemaker, telling Lina to apologize. Lina wouldn't, accusing Annika of siding with Emma, and then she ran off crying to find Bowen Flores.

In the end, Bowen dragged Lina to apologize to Emma, gifts in hand, and admitted he'd been spoiling Lina rotten.

Emma had told Annika at the time, "Lina is so freaking lucky. How does she have all these people falling over themselves to spoil her? Most people can't even find one person like that in a lifetime, and she's got two—one of them being her own brother. It's just... enviable."

Years later, Annika finally understood how heavy those words were. Yeah, it was enviable. Somewhere along the line, she realized all she could ever do was look up and envy Lina Turner.

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.