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I reach over, placing my hand over his. “Max, look at me. Your parents love you. They wouldn’t want you to suffer. My coming into your life isn’t replacing her. We’ll both show them there’s still light left. Just take a breath, baby. It’s going to be okay.”

We arrive at the house to find a masterpiece of architecture. It must’ve been a beautiful place to grow up with the wrap-around porch and windows all facing the river. He wasn’t kidding, though. There are Christmas wreaths hanging from each window and a large one with a big red bow on the front door. I swallow down my sorrow for all this family has had to endure.

Inside, we find his parents in the formal sitting room. His mother, Alaina, is thin and pale. I can only imagine the devastation a missing child inflicts on you physically and mentally. His father, Arthur, stands by the fireplace, looking as if he’s carved from the same stone as the mantle.

“Mom, Dad,” Max starts, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. He keeps his hand firmly in mine, but he doesn’t mention the ring hidden beneath. “This is Cassidy.”

The silence is heavy. My nerves jump beneath my skin. Alaina looks at me, her gaze drifting to my pink hair, and for a second, I see the flicker of a reprimand in her eyes. As if my brightness is too loud for this house of mourning.

I decide not to wait for the awkwardness to settle. I let go of Max’s hand and walk straight toward the towering evergreen in the corner. There’s no point ignoring the ten-foot elephant in the room. It’s magnificent, draped in vintage glass ornaments and tinsel that has dimmed with time.

“Mrs. Wilde,” I say softly, turning back to her with a genuine smile. “This tree is breathtaking. You must have spent years collecting these ornaments. It makes the whole room feel so warm.”

Max freezes, his breath catching in his throat. I’m sure he expected me to be weirded out or that we’d pretend it wasn’t there.

Instead, I see Alaina’s shoulders drop an inch. “We leave it up for Isla,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “She missed Christmas. We’ll celebrate each of them when she gets back.”

“It’s beautiful,” I reply, walking to stand beside her. “I hope I can be here to help celebrate.”

She moves a little closer, and I take it as a small victory and press on. “Max tells me she’s the heart of this family.” I pause, worried I may have taken this a step too far.

Alaina gives a half-hearted smile.

“I hope it isn’t an imposition, but would you happen to have any pictures of her you could share with me? I work alongside Max at the agency now, and... well, I’d like to be able to see her face clearly when we’re scouring the net for clues. It helps to have a person in mind, not just a profile.”

The change in the room is instantaneous. Arthur’s stern expression cracks, and Alaina’s hand flies to her chest. For years, people have likely avoided Isla’s name around them, treating her memory like a wound they should have gotten over already. It’s what motivates me to work with people, those who have been victimized. Particularly the cold cases where they feel forgotten. To have someone walk in and ask to see her, to join the fight for her, is a lifeline they probably weren’t expecting.

“You... you’re looking for her too?” Alaina asks, her eyes filling with what I hope is a spark of hope.

“Yes, ma’am. Every single day,” I promise.

Max moves to stand behind me, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back. I can feel the tension draining out of him, replaced by a profound sense of relief. He looks at his parents, then back at me. I’m not offering solutions, but hopefully a shared commitment to answers. I’m praying that’s enough.

Max keeps his hand clamped over mine, his thumb tracing the edge of my engagement ring. I know he’s replaying the last four hours. The way the dust seemed to settle.

“I’ve been such a fool, Cass,” he says, his voice thick as we hit the open highway. “I thought I was protecting them by keeping my distance, avoiding the hard conversations. I limited talk about Isla to updates on my search. I thought if I showed them I was happy, it would be like telling them I’d forgotten her.”

He shakes his head, a self-deprecating shadow crossing his face. “But seeing them looking through those photo albums with you tonight, watching my mother sharing that story about Isla and the stray cat...” He’s blinking back tears now. I grasp his hand, trying to stay strong for him. “I’ve spent over a decade trying to find her on the dark web but forgot to look for her in the people who loved her most.”

I lift his hand to my lips. “You three have been doing the best you can through your grief. I still struggle when I think of my dad. But your parents just want to keep Isla alive, the only way they know how.”

“Next week,” he murmurs. “Next week we’ll tell them we’re getting married. And then we start preparing a guest suite at our house. Because they aren’t staying in that morgue forever. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

I smile, hoping that could be possible one day. However we can support his parents, we’ll do it. Even if it’s just keeping Isla’s existence front and center.

As Max leads me through the club, his hand firm on the small of my back, I realize how much has changed since the first night I worked here. The colorful lights of The Devil’s Playground pulse with a different energy tonight. Possibly because it’s no longer a temporary sanctuary, but a place where we can relax with our friends.

We’re both dressed in our finest. Max is wearing a sharp charcoal three-piece suit that makes me drool. His normal casual uniform has been replaced, bringing out the dominant alpha billionaire who rules our bedroom. He even donned a chunky, expensive watch. Not sure what it is about men and big wristwatches. Probably just their ability to draw my eyes to their strong arms and hands.

The floor-length silk gown Max had delivered to me for the event is breathtaking. I never imagined wearing something so beautiful. It’s the color of a midnight sky. Its hue a stark, elegant contrast to the vibrant pink of my hair.

Not to mention this ring.

I’d gotten ready at Max’s… I mean, our home on the Potomac. It’s going to take a really long time for that to sink in. I’d planned to find an updo I could replicate from Pinterest. Yet one kiss along my neck was all it took to fold like a house of cards when he asked if I’d wear it down.

The club is packed with members and guests, particularly Max’s inner circle. His Billionaire Boys Club is out in full force. Gianni is holding court, mingling throughout the place like the enigmatic club owner he is, while Broadie and Poppy share a quiet laugh, snuggled into one another in the VIP lounge. Devon Sly, Derek Hart, and Becket Ryan are sharing stories over scotch and cigars, looking like a mixture of careless good-nature and devil-may-care recklessness.

Ben and his wife, Grace, wave us over, their smiles so friendly and warm. “Cassidy, you look absolutely stunning.”