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Her absence at the office meant the guys had to take on parts of her workload—either with help from their assistants or by handling things themselves. Only now are things starting to settle, the chaos easing slightly, but I know it will take time before everything runs as smoothly as it did under her supervision.

Even so, what we miss is her—not as an employee, but as a person.

We already have six people who were involved in the plan to sabotage the jet. Colt has been working nonstop to gather proof that the person we suspect is truly responsible. I could have made him pay even without evidence—and Colt agreed—but the others didn’t, so we’re still working on it.

I know this revenge won’t bring Irina back, and I don’t believe it will help her wherever she is now. But maybe it will take the edge off the anger that has been steadily growing since that moment.

And the guilt… the guilt will stay with me for the rest of my life. Every time I see her empty desk, every time I instinctively reach for my phone to call or text her and reality hits instantly, every time I check on her brother and her parents, making sure they’re okay, asking if they need anything. I apologized to them—for not protecting her well enough. She dedicated her entire life to my company, to me… and I was completely careless with her safety, blinded by concern for a woman who didn’t think twice before going on a date with another man.

And while Irina was losing her life because of me, I was standing there, having a stupid conversation, fueled by the jealousy I felt when I saw those pictures of Thalia with John.

As for Thalia…

I haven’t seen her since that night. I know nothing about her anymore. We haven’t spoken, not even once.

I said everything that needed to be said. The rest fell back into place. Each of us moved on with our own life, our own wants, our own direction. I made sure her image remained intact, that she kept her job. Beyond that, there’s nothing left to add.

I took care of her parents, because I haven’t forgotten the horrors Thalia went through as a child—how she practically raised and educated herself, how much she suffered because of them. Even now, as an adult, they kept terrorizing her, even tried to publicly drag her name through the mud for a few filthy thousand dollars.

When I went to see them—together with Colt and the others, because since that night they’ve turned into my shadow, watching my every move and trying to keep me from snapping, which drives me insane—we saw the place Thalia once called “home.” We all froze, unable to move or say a word for a few long seconds. That was, until her parents showed up and were immediately recognized by Zayn.

They won’t bother her again. That won’t erase the memories, but maybe their absence will make them fade, if only a little. Neither she nor Sierra know about our visit—and they don’t need to. Thalia is being watched around the clock, Ryan personally making sure no one ever harasses her again, without invading her privacy, of course.

The media has been shut down again—crushed. Some agencies closed, others left without websites, without a single article ever published. Some were even bought by Colt and turned into whatever he felt like.

Once again, there’s no trace left of any story about us.

As for the news involving my father and Thalia’s mother… whatever happened there will be addressed. But not now. Not during the holidays.

Soon.

Because I don’t have much patience left.

And I want to know if my mother was disrespected in any way.

I’ve just arrived at my parents’ house. They’re downstairs in the living room with the Thomases, while I came upstairs to leave the luggage in my room.

The guys will arrive tonight from London, they’re already on the jet.

Every year, we spent the holidays together at our parents’ place. Since they and the Thomases live in separate houses but share the same property, we move back and forth between them, drifting from one home to the other like we always have. And if I stop for a moment and really think about it, the idea of buying that land and turning it into a shared property probably started here, in this place.

I have no problem living alone—in fact, I enjoy it. But there’s a quiet kind of comfort in knowing my brothers are close. Maybe it gives me peace, knowing no one is ever truly alone while I’m constantly gone, moving from one country to another for work.

And at this point, it’s obvious they’re all my brothers, whether or not we share the same blood.

We’ve known each other forever. We show up for every personal milestone, every holiday, and nothing ever shakes the trust between us. I could hand my life over to any of them without hesitation, and I know they’d do the same for me.

“Baby, everything good?” my mom asks, opening her arms as she meets me halfway down the stairs.

“Son, we’re glad you managed to finish your meetings and arrive a day earlier,” my dad adds from his seat at the table.

I was supposed to land in New York tomorrow morning, but one of our partners went on a surprise trip arranged by his wife, so the meeting was pushed forward by a day.

“All good,” I tell my mom with a small smile, wrapping my arms around her.

“You look exceptional, Ethan,” Maya—Liam, Zayn, and Sierra’s mother—says when it’s her turn to hug me. “And you smell incredible,” she adds with a laugh.

A quiet chuckle leaves me as I hold her for a moment longer.