The Weight of the Past
Back in his penthouse overlooking Puget Sound, Graham shrugged out of his jacket and let it drop onto the couch. He poured himself a drink, even though it was far earlier than he normally would. Below, the city lights blurred into streaks as he paced the room.
Six years.
He had told himself Harper would understand why he left. He had convinced himself there would be time to fix everything later—after the company succeeded, after he proved himself, after he became someone worth staying for.
But seeing her again—seeing those boys—made every excuse crumble.
He opened his laptop, typed in the password to a folder he hadn’t accessed in years, and scrolled through old photos. Harper laughing in the passenger seat on a road trip. Harper in pajamas flipping pancakes. Harper wrapping her arms around him as he sketched blueprints.
Then he found a photo he’d forgotten—a faint image of a positive test she once held beside her face, smiling nervously.
Something cold settled deep inside him.
She had been pregnant when he left.
His phone buzzed.
A message from his assistant, Rowan:
“I think I found her. Sending the address.”
Graham stared at the glowing screen.
Whatever waited at that address would change everything.
