The private jet soared through the sky, cutting through clouds like whispers too fragile to hold. Bianca sat quietly, arms folded loosely across her chest as the hum of the aircraft droned on. Kayden sat across from her, deeply immersed in something on his tablet, barely sparing her a glance. She didn't mind—his silence was a relief.
She wasn't in the mood for his cocky grins or dry sarcasm.
As she stared out the window, watching the endless stretch of blue sky slowly morph into the greys of New York, her mind wandered—straying back to the brunch. Not the food. Not the laughter around the table. But her.
Mrs. Preston.
Among all the overly groomed women who wore pearls like armor and clutched their husbands like trophies, Mrs. Preston had been different. There was warmth in her eyes, a softness in her voice that made Bianca feel—safe. Seen. Like she wasn't completely out of place.
Bianca smiled faintly, recalling the moment they had drifted from the group, walking barefoot on the beach while the men got busy with business talks. The sun had been kind, the waves gentle. Mrs. Preston had looped her arm through Bianca's like they were old friends.
"You don't have to play their game to survive in this world," she'd said.
"You just have to learn the rules... and know when to break them."
Before they parted, she had slipped a card into Bianca's palm and whispered, "Call me anytime, dear. Trust me… you're going to need a friend in this circle."
Bianca had kept the card.
She hadn't thought much of it until now. But as they descended into a city filled with expectations and eyes, it felt like a lifeline.
The car ride from the airport was painfully silent.
Kayden didn't even look at her when they slid into the back seat of the waiting black SUV. He simply adjusted his sunglasses, tapped away on his phone, and muttered something to the driver.
Bianca didn't ask questions.
She had grown used to the space between them. How he could go from vulnerable to distant in the blink of an eye. The charm he wore like a mask around others always seemed to fall away when they were alone—as if she reminded him of something he couldn't control. Or didn't want to feel.
She let her gaze drift to the city streets as they blurred past. New York was colder than she remembered. Or maybe it was just her.
She sighed and leaned her head against the cool glass. She was glad the honeymoon was over. Or whatever that trip was supposed to be. Pretending had drained her. She was tired of his mixed signals, tired of the games.
She was so done. Done with the silence that hung between them like an invisible wall. Done with pretending she was okay when every part of her wanted to scream.
But as the minutes stretched on, her thoughts turned inward. And no matter how hard she tried to push them away, they kept creeping back. Liam.
Was he still in New York? Was he out there somewhere, nursing his own wounds, trying to make sense of everything that had happened between them? Was he still obsessed with her, or had he finally let go? The thought of him, of his presence in the city, sent a cold shiver down her spine. He had warned her, hadn't he? "Sooner or later, the truth would come out." His words echoed in her mind, like a persistent drumbeat she couldn't shake.
Bianca clenched her fists, the fabric of her seat seeming to tighten around her like the grip of a memory she couldn't escape.
The words were still fresh, still haunting. She could almost hear his voice, low and bitter, as he'd spoken them at the wedding. The way he'd stared at her.
Her pulse quickened at the thought. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was teetering on the edge of something dangerous. Something that would bring everything to light—the secrets, the lies, the betrayal.
She pressed her fingers to her temple. But the thoughts never went away. They never did.
Her mind drifted to Naomi. How could she have been so blind? She had been so wrapped up in her own turmoil, too focused on what was right in front of her to notice the quiet jealousy simmering beneath the surface.
Naomi—her supposed best friend, the one who had always been there, the one she trusted more than anyone else. How could she not see what was happening? Naomi had known about Liam.
The thought of it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Naomi had let Liam into the wedding,under a different name all for the sake of playing her little game of sabotage. How could she not have known? Had she been that naïve, that oblivious to Naomi's feelings?
Had Naomi been jealous of her all along? Bianca's breath hitched at the thought. It seemed impossible, but now that she thought about it, everything made sense.
Bianca squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, as if trying to block out the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Betrayal. Anger. Sadness.
And now, all of it was unraveling, one thread at a time.
Her heart pounded in her chest as the car rolled closer to kayden's house—now her home. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She wanted to escape the suffocating reality that her entire world had been turned upside down—and she had nobody to turn to. Not Naomi, not Liam, and certainly not Kayden, with all his quiet arrogance and confusing behavior.
But what could she do? She was trapped. Her life had been hijacked by people who didn't care about her, by secrets that she couldn't control. No matter how much she wanted to fight it, she was still stuck in this gilded cage, surrounded by people who wanted something from her, and she had no idea how to break free.
A sharp pain pierced her chest. She rubbed her palm over it, hoping to soothe the ache, but it only grew more intense.
No, she couldn't let herself think like this. She had to keep moving forward. She had to survive.
The drive dragged on, though it wasn't particularly long. Just quiet. The silence between them wasn't heavy anymore—it was hollow, like echoes in an empty room. Everything that needed to be said had already been buried beneath the weight of pretense. Bianca looked out at the fading palm trees, the island now just a memory she wished she could erase.
The streets began to look more familiar as the car made its way through Manhattan, gradually pulling her out of the spiral of her thoughts. But the unease in her chest didn't ease—it only pressed deeper.
She glanced sideways at Kayden. He was staring out the window, jaw tight, fingers tapping lightly against the door. He hadn't said a word since they landed. Not even a comment about the weather or the driver's choice of music. The silence between them wasn't just quiet—it was loaded. Tense. And far too loud in her ears.
It was always like this. One moment, he was soft—almost kind. The next, he became distant, unreadable, as though he regretted letting his guard down. The whiplash exhausted her. It made her wonder if she was losing her mind… or if he was simply playing a game she didn't know the rules to.
She blinked and turned her face back to the window, watching as the scenery turned cleaner, richer—clear signs that they were approaching the gated part of the city. Her fingers unconsciously reached for her wedding ring, turning it slowly around her finger.
Was this what forever looked like?
The thought made her stomach twist.
Just ahead, the familiar black iron gates of Kayden's estate came into view.
The gates of Kayden's estate slowly rolled open.
The moment the car pulled into the driveway, something in Bianca's chest tightened. There was an unfamiliar SUV parked just outside the main entrance. Sleek. Expensive. But definitely not one of Kayden's usual fleet.
And then she saw her.
A tall, poised woman stood beside the car—arms crossed, lips tight, sunglasses resting like a crown. She looked like someone who had never begged for anything in her life. A woman used to being obeyed. Not asked.
Bianca blinked.
Kayden's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"…Is that—?" she started to ask.
But Kayden had already opened the car door.
He didn't answer.
Bianca's heart thudded as she stepped out, the cool air biting at her skin. The woman turned fully then, removing her sunglasses slowly, revealing sharp hazel eyes that flicked between Bianca and Kayden like they were under inspection.
"Kayden," she said simply, voice like silk over steel.
"I thought we should talk."
Bianca felt the shift in Kayden's posture. Not fear. Not surprise.
But… tension.
And just like that, she knew: this was his mother.
The storm had arrived.