The kids were still snuggled under their blankets when Peter became awake. A cold spot on the bed reminded him again—Bennie hadn't come home last night.
His stomach churned as he rose, every minute of sleep erased by dread.
He checked his phone.
Nothing.
No call. No text. Just silence.
Peter tried not to panic. Maybe her phone died. Maybe she needed space. But it felt like a lie.
He redialed her number. Once. Twice. Three times.
Voicemail.
He started texting:
"Where are you?"
"Please at least let me know you're okay."
"The kids are worried they keep asking for you."
Nothing.
He tried Bih next. Her voice came through on the second ring.
"Bih. Is Bennie with you?"
A pause. "Yeah… she's fine," Bih replied, too quickly. "Just overwhelmed, you know? She needed some time."
"Where is she?" Peter pressed. "Can I talk to her?"
"She's… sleeping right now. I'll tell her you called."
But Bih's tone didn't sit right. She sounded like someone trying to sound calm—and failing.
Peter hung up and clenched his fists. His mind spiraled.
He fed the kids breakfast, tried to keep his hands from shaking while pouring juice. He wiped off the juice off Anna's chin and helped Sandra tie her shoes. All the while, his heart felt like it was being wrung out.
By noon, he couldn't sit still.
He left the kids in the care of his oldest son. And took a cab.
First he checked her parents' place, a rundown duplex at the other side of town. Her mother opened the door half an inch before shaking her head. "Haven't seen her in months, Peter."
He drove past places they used to go—parks, the corner café, the little daycare Bennie loved. He even circled the alley behind the youth center she once volunteered at.
Then decides to go to Bih's place, but she wouldn't let him in under the pretext Bennie was tired. "Catch a breath and go home please Peter" she said.
By the time he got back home, the sun was dipping low.
Desmond looked up at him with big brown eyes.
"Did Mom run away from us?"
The words shattered Peter's chest.
He looked at his son, barely able to breathe. "No, Des. She's just… trying to figure things out."
But inside, he was crumbling.
He stood in front of the mirror later, looking at the man he had become—dark circles under his eyes, jaw set in desperation.
He had no choice.
If Bennie wouldn't fight for them, he would.
Bennie opened her eyes slowly, her body cocooned in silky sheets. For a moment, she forgot where she was.
Then it hit her—the high-rise, the sprawling suite, the warm scent of maple drifting from the kitchen.
She sat up, startled, heart racing.
Nothing had happened.
She was fully clothed. Her shoes neatly by the door. But the weight in her chest hadn't lifted.
Brian was in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with disarming ease. He turned, smiled. "Morning. You slept like a rock."
Bennie ran a hand through her hair. "What time is it?"
"Almost ten. Relax. No kids screaming. No stress."
She frowned. "I should've gone home."
"You were barely breathing last night, Bennie," he said, bringing her a plate. "Sit. Eat."
The food smelled divine. Her stomach rumbled in betrayal.
She ate quietly, "I need a new executive assistant. High-level. You'd manage my schedule, communications, travel. You'd have full access. And you'd be paid six figures."
Bennie choked. "That's insane. I was a nanny."
"You were the nanny. To a billionaire's family. You know how to manage chaos. And I trust you."
She looked at him hard. "Why are you doing this?"
His smile softened. "Because I see you, Bennie. I see the strength no one else does. And because—frankly—I need someone who doesn't lie to me. You're not afraid to challenge me. That's rare."
Her thoughts tangled. The kids needed her. They needed food, stability.
And this job… it could change everything.
Brian slid a small card across the table. Thick paper, a gold stripe across the top. His name and number embossed.
"Come see the office. No pressure. But you deserve more than this chaos you're in."
She picked up the card. Her fingers trembled.
"Thank you."
Brian stepped back, watching her carefully. "Take your time."
Bennie dressed and headed home in silence.
As she stood at the door, she took out her wedding ring and wore it again.
Peter had already left home before she returned.
He needed a job. Any job. Even if it meant swallowing every last ounce of pride.
He shaved, dressed in his cleanest shirt, and took the bus to Thompson Airlines headquarters, the massive glass building that used to feel like a mountain he'd climbed.
Peter once worked there on a contract basis, before prison stripped it all away. He'd been a rising aeronautical technician, working on prototypes—then one mistake, one wrong person, and he lost it all.
He entered the building, nerves flooding his spine.
A young receptionist barely looked up.
"I'm here to see someone in HR. About… any job," Peter said, voice tight.
She gave him a form. "They're not hiring for engineers."
"I'll take anything," Peter said.
She raised an eyebrow but didn't argue.
An hour later, he was called into a small office by a manager who barely looked twenty-five. The man flipped through Peter's file and scoffed.
"Felony conviction. No references. You're overqualified for janitorial or mere cleaning work."
Peter nodded, eyes burning.
"I'll take anything."
The man smirked. "There's an opening in mechanical services. Hangar floor."
It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't even technical. It was oil under fingernails and sweat-soaked shirts.
But it was something.
"I'll take it," Peter repeated.
Outside, the sky was already bleeding into dusk. He stood there a moment longer, watching planes lift into the clouds like dreams he once had.
But when he stepped toward the bus stop, he paused.
He needed money now. For the kids. They needed to go back to school.
He turned back toward the building—toward the executive wing.
He didn't care if it was humiliating. He'd ask for a loan. A small advance. Anything.
As he stepped inside the lobby again, two tall men exited an elevator behind him. Peter stepped aside to let them pass, but froze when he heard a familiar voice.
Brian.
"—I gave her the suite on the 34th floor. She was in shambles. Poor thing hadn't slept in days."
Peter ducked behind a column, heartbeat pounding.
The second man laughed. "You're taking in strays now?"
Brian's voice dropped. "She's not a stray. She's gold. I'm
offering her an EA position next week. Her name's Bennie. Once she's onboard, I'll have everything I need."
Peter's knees buckled.
Bennie.
Brian was talking about Bennie