flash
The apartment was deathly quiet after the front door clicked shut. My mother’s venomous parting words still hung in the air, but they were nothing compared to the cold weight settling in my chest. Savannah was in our bedroom, the door closed, likely curled up in the dark. / Chapter 20 / 20

Chapter 20 - The Unwritten Page

The digital clock on our bedside table read 11:59 PM as we finally walked back into our bedroom in the San Diego penthouse.

City lights glittered across the harbor like a sea of diamonds, reflecting off the floor-to-ceiling windows.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I glanced at it—just a routine alert from the corporate server confirming the international design awards our firm had just swept for the new public library project.

I tossed the phone back onto the charger, not caring about notifications, emails, or schedules.

Savannah walked out of the walk-in closet, wearing a soft silk robe, her dark hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She looked at me, a playful, knowing spark in her eyes.

"What are you thinking about, CEO Miller?" she teased, crawling into bed beside me.

I pulled her close, resting my chin against her hair, breathing in the scent of lavender and vanilla.

"I'm thinking about the fact that we have ninety-eight million dollars, an international architecture firm, a wonderful son, and a foundation that's going to save thousands of lives," I smiled into the dark. "And I'm thinking... what should our next adventure be?"

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I stepped past the door frame, my leather shoes clicking softly against the linoleum floor.

I stepped past the door frame, my leather shoes clicking softly against...

The screech of the chopper’s rotor blades vibrated directly through the freezing slate beneath my spine. The blinding white vortex of snow kicked up by the downdraft burned my eyes, but I forced my lids open, locking my gaze onto the amber visor of the rescue specialist dropping out of the sky.

The screech of the chopper’s rotor blades vibrated directly through the...

Daniel stepped toward the bed, his polished leather shoes squeaking against the pristine hospital linoleum. He reached for the tray table, his fingers brushing the edge of the papers. His voice was low, coated in a practiced, corporate calm that made my stomach churn worse than the spiked blood pressure.

Daniel stepped toward the bed, his polished leather shoes squeaking agai...

Savannah laughed softly, her hand tracing a gentle circle over my chest.

"Wherever we want, Christopher," she whispered, turning off the bedside lamp and plunging the room into peaceful, secure darkness. "The rest of the book is completely unwritten."

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