I was the last one to leave my office that night. The lights in most of the building had already gone dark, leaving only the hum of the AC and the faint reflection of the city across the glass walls. I sat there for a moment, staring at the blank screen of my laptop before finally shutting it.

Tomorrow.

The Meridian Development Initiative officially kicked off tomorrow — the biggest bid of my career, and, if we pulled it off, the kind that could redefine my future at Gray & Milton. But that wasn't the only thing on my mind.

I was going up against him.

My father-in-law, Charlie George Moreau. The man who made Moreau Dynamics what is is right now. The same man who looked me in the eye and told me once, in his usual calm but cold tone, "You'll never be good enough for my daughter or my company."

I exhaled slowly, grabbed my briefcase, and switched off the lights. No matter how many times I told myself it was just business, the thought of facing him tomorrow sat like a stone in my chest.

The drive home blurred by faster than I expected. Maybe I was too deep in my thoughts to notice the traffic lights or the city noise.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, her car was already parked. A small smile tugged at my lips before I even stepped out.

The moment I opened the front door, I was greeted by the sound of laughter, Val's soft and Aline's bright. Duchess was lounging on the couch like the queen she thought she was, tail flicking lazily as if to say finally.

Val was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, hair loose, wearing one of my old shirts again, the blue one that was already halfway hers.

As soon as she saw me, she sprang up.

> "Welcome home, husband!"

Her voice was music, warm and familiar. She walked up, wrapped her arms around my neck, and kissed me before I could even respond.

I chuckled against her lips. "That's one way to say hi."

"Best way," she murmured, still smiling as she pulled back.

Aline waved from the couch. "Welcome back, sir!"

"Hey, Aline," I said, smiling at her before nodding toward the smug feline beside her. "And Duchess, as always, pretending she doesn't care."

Aline giggled. "She does care. She was staring at the door ten seconds before you walked in."

"Yeah, sure," I said, shaking my head with a grin. "Psychic cat."

Val reached for my briefcase before I could even put it down. "I've got it."

"Val—"

"Nope. You've been at work all day. Go shower. Then we'll talk after dinner."

I raised a brow. "So bossy."

She smiled. "You married me, remember?"

"Right," I said, fighting a laugh. "Must've missed that fine print."

She gave me a playful shove toward the hallway.

In the shower, I let the hot water run longer than usual. I didn't realize how much tension I'd been holding until it started melting away. For a moment, I just leaned against the tiles, eyes closed.

And then I heard it — her voice, soft and teasing from the doorway.

"Don't take too long in there, husband. You might make me think you fell asleep."

I turned just enough to see her leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, grin perfectly wicked.

"Or," I said, "you could join me. Problem solved."

She laughed, that low, warm laugh that always disarmed me, and shook her head. "Tempting. But dinner first."

When I came out, she was already setting the table.

Apparently, she'd waited.

"I thought you'd have eaten already," I said, drying my hair with a towel.

"Nope," she said, glancing up at me. "Didn't feel like it." Then, with a small smile: "Figured I'd wait and eat with you."

My chest tightened just a little. "You're too good for me, you know that?"

She tilted her head. "I know."

Dinner was quiet in that comforting way only home could be. We talked about Aline's new obsession with baking videos and Duchess's ongoing war with the vacuum cleaner. She asked about my day, and I gave her the watered-down version — spreadsheets, numbers, meetings. The usual.

But when we got to bed later, I knew she wasn't done asking.

She dropped her phone on the nightstand as I walked in and patted the space beside her.

> "So… how was today, really?"

I sat down, running a hand through my hair. "You know. The usual," I said, half-grinning. "Meetings, coffee, existential dread."

She giggled, the sound soft and effortless. "That bad?"

I shrugged. "Depends. Tomorrow's the pre-proposal conference. I'm trying not to overthink it."

Her expression softened instantly. "Ah, the big one."

"Yeah."

She paused. "My dad mentioned it today."

That caught me off guard. "He did?"

She nodded, eyes flicking to mine. "Said the government's expectations are sky-high this year. You're probably going to have a hard time going up against Philip Rodriguez."

"Philip who?"

> "Rodriguez. Project Director for Moreau Dynamics."

I frowned. "Oh."

She hesitated, and I felt it. That tiny pause, the carefulness in her tone. It wasn't like her. Val never filtered her words with me; she said what she thought, how she felt, always. But this? This was her choosing restraint. And that told me more than anything else could — that even in her honesty, she was walking a line now. A line neither of us had drawn, but both of us could see.

"He's… good at his job," she said carefully, "but he's also smug, and—" she made a small face, "—anger issues. Like, throw-a-clipboard-at-your-assistant kind of issues."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Sounds charming."

> "Oh, he's a delight."

The mood eased, the air between us lighter again.

"But," she added, her tone softening, "you're smarter than he is."

I chuckled. "You're only saying that because you love me."

She met my eyes and shook her head slowly. "No. I'm saying that because it's true. You're the smartest person I know, Kai. You always have been."

Her voice was steady, sure, that same tone she used when she was stating facts.

I smiled a little. "You mean except for those times you beat me in school."

She grinned. "You only beat me twice out of eight semesters. Once because I was sick, and once because I let you."

I laughed. "You what?"

"Let you," she said, trying to keep a straight face. "It was cute watching you gloat."

"I did not gloat."

> "You absolutely did."

"False. I was… celebrating intellectual equality."

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Sure, husband."

There was a pause, one of those comfortable ones that didn't need filling. Then she said softly, "I'll be rooting for you, you know."

"I know."

She leaned in and kissed me, slow and unhurried, the kind that didn't ask for anything, just said everything.

When she finally pulled back, she whispered, "You've got this."

I smiled, brushing a thumb along her jaw. "With you around, I'd better."

We talked a little longer, about everything and nothing. Her laugh, her warmth — it made the world outside our walls disappear.

But when she finally fell asleep beside me, her breathing even and soft, I stayed awake for a while longer.

Because today had been love, laughter, and peace, but tomorrow?

Tomorrow was the start of a war.

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To be continued...

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