[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-2603221E34AF-90":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},90,4,"Chapter 4: The Mango Cake on the Counter","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">His voice was a jagged blade of fury.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Think playing house with William Graham is clever? Do you honestly think you can make me jealous with that stunt?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He let out a cold, hollow laugh. \"Don't forget who pulled you out of the fire when those terrorists had a knife to your throat. You’re nothing without me.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">I gripped the phone, my jaw set. Silence was my only weapon.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">In the background, Sabrina Cole’s saccharine voice drifted through the line: \"Roman, hurry up! The cake won't cut itself!\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman hummed a soft, placating sound in her direction before returning to me. \"We’ve got joint drills coming up, Sabrina and I. Once it's over, I'll clear up the public rumors. Stop being dramatic. Be a good girl and wait at home tonight. I’m bringing your favorite—mango cake.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">My thoughts drifted to the ghosts of our past.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman Armstrong hadn't always been this cold iron. He’d joined the military after the top brass caught sight of him at our press conference. I’d fought him on it then. His heart was in research; stepping into the military meant walking away from that dream forever. But he’d gone behind my back, pleading his case to the General.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Afterward, he’d wrapped his arms around me, his eyes rimmed with red. \"Genevieve, I won’t let you live a life of struggle. I want to earn my stripes, to build a future where you don’t have to want for anything.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He’d discarded his dream for me, burying himself in brutal, endless training. Our lives grew distant, splintered by conflicting missions. When the first rumors of him and his little protégé cropped up, he’d driven seven hours through the night to our field hospital, begging for forgiveness, swearing it was all a misunderstanding. He’d promised he’d fix it, told me not to overthink it.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">I’d begged him to make us public. He’d claimed it would ruin his image, that the higher-ups would lose faith in him. It wasn't the right time. He swore I was the only one.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">I chose to trust him. I chose to wait.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Then came Sabrina Cole.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She was the ultimate \"little white flower,\" fragile and innocent. She’d gotten caught in a scuffle during a mission, stumbled into the water, and Roman had plucked her out. She’d spent the rest of the night shivering in his arms.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">By morning, the rumors were a wildfire.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman hadn't said a word to defend me.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The phone call clicked dead. I stared at the blank screen for a heartbeat, my pulse slow and steady. I didn’t waste energy on tears; I picked up the phone and dialed HR. If I was going abroad, I was burning every bridge to Roman Armstrong first.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">I didn't expect him home that night. I certainly didn't expect him to walk through the front door with Sabrina Cole trailing like a shadow at his heels.\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272923917]