"Daddy, look! That T-Rex moved!" Leo exclaims, pointing excitedly at the animatronic dinosaur that just roared and swung its head toward our table.

"I see it, buddy," Ethan replies, his face alight with genuine pleasure at our son's excitement. "Pretty realistic, isn't it?"


"Not really," Leo says critically, surprising us both. "Real T-Rex had feathers. And its arms couldn't move like that."

Ethan laughs, shooting me an impressed look. "You've raised a dinosaur expert."

"He corrects the museum guides," I admit with a smile. "It's slightly embarrassing."


The dinner is going well—Leo thrilled with the dinosaur-themed restaurant, Ethan and I falling easily into the roles of proud parents enjoying a family outing. It's moments like these when our arrangement feels most natural, when I can almost forget the complicated web of lies and revenge that brought us together.

"Mrs. Knight? I thought that was you."


The voice cuts through my momentary contentment like a knife. I look up to find Vivienne Knight approaching our table, elegant as always in a tailored navy dress.

"Mother," Ethan greets her, standing to kiss her cheek. "What a surprise."

"I'm having dinner with the hospital board," Vivienne explains, gesturing to a private dining room visible through glass doors. "I saw your family as I was passing and couldn't resist saying hello to my grandson."

Leo beams at being acknowledged. "Hi, Grandma! Did you see the dinosaurs?"

"I did," she replies warmly. "Very impressive. Though not as impressive as your knowledge about them, I'm sure."

Leo launches into an enthusiastic explanation of why the restaurant's dinosaurs aren't scientifically accurate, while Vivienne listens with remarkable patience.

"Would you like to join us?" Ethan offers when Leo pauses for breath.

"Thank you, but I should get back to my meeting," Vivienne declines. "I just wanted to tell you that your father is in town. He's asking to meet Leo."

Ethan's expression tightens almost imperceptibly. "Is he?"

"He is your father, Ethan," Vivienne says quietly. "And Leo's grandfather. Whatever issues exist between you two, they shouldn't prevent Leo from knowing his family."

I watch this exchange with interest, noting the tension in Ethan's jaw, the careful neutrality in Vivienne's tone. There's clearly a complicated history here—one that wasn't covered in my research on the Knight family.

"We'll discuss it later," Ethan says finally. "Not here."

Vivienne nods, accepting the deflection. "Of course. Enjoy your dinner." She turns to me with a warm smile. "Olivia, you look lovely as always. Perhaps we could have lunch next week? There's a charity event I'd love your help with."

"I'd be delighted," I reply automatically, though the prospect of being further entangled in Knight family philanthropy wasn't part of my original plan.

After Vivienne returns to her meeting, Ethan remains quiet, his earlier good mood dimmed by the mention of his father.

"Are you okay?" I ask softly while Leo is distracted by the approaching dessert cart.

Ethan glances at me, surprise flickering across his face at my genuine concern. "Fine," he says shortly. "Just... family complications."

"I understand those," I reply, the words more honest than I intended.

He studies me for a moment, as if seeing something new. "Yes, I suppose you would."

The moment is interrupted by Leo's excited gasp as a dinosaur-shaped ice cream sundae is placed before him, complete with chocolate spikes and candy eyes.

"This is the best restaurant ever!" he declares, diving in with enthusiasm.

Ethan's mood lightens as he watches our son enjoy his treat. "We should bring him to the Natural History Museum this weekend," he suggests. "They have a new exhibit on feathered dinosaurs he might enjoy critiquing."

"That sounds perfect," I agree. "Though we might need to apologize to the curators in advance."

We share a genuine laugh, the earlier tension dissipating. This is becoming dangerous—these moments of real connection, of shared parenting and inside jokes. They make it harder to remember that our marriage is a business arrangement with an expiration date, that Ethan might still be an enemy rather than an ally.

As we finish dinner and head home, Leo falls asleep in the car, exhausted from his exciting day. Ethan carries him up to the penthouse and helps me tuck him into bed, the two of us moving in the synchronized dance of parents who've been doing this together for years rather than weeks.

In the hallway outside Leo's room, we pause, suddenly awkward without our son as a buffer between us.

"Thank you for tonight," I say quietly. "Leo loved it."

"I enjoyed it too," Ethan admits. "It felt... normal."

Normal. Such a simple word for something I haven't experienced in five years. Normal family dinner. Normal parental pride. Normal conversation that isn't layered with schemes and revenge.

"Yes," I agree softly. "It did."

Ethan steps closer, his eyes intent on mine. "Olivia, I've been thinking. This arrangement between us—it's working well for Leo. He's happy, settled. But I wonder if perhaps we should consider..."

My pulse quickens. "Consider what?"

"Making it more real," he finishes, his voice dropping lower. "For ourselves, not just for him."

The suggestion hangs between us, loaded with implications. Is he proposing we turn our paper marriage into a genuine relationship? Share a bedroom instead of living separate lives under one roof?

"Ethan," I begin, uncertain how to respond. This wasn't part of the plan. This complicates everything.

"You don't have to answer now," he says quickly. "Just... think about it. We're compatible in many ways. We parent well together. And there's clearly an attraction between us."

He's not wrong. The chemistry has been there from the beginning, simmering beneath the surface of our business-like interactions. But acting on it would be a mistake—wouldn't it?

"I need time," I say finally. "This is... unexpected."

"Of course," he agrees, taking a step back. "Take all the time you need. I just wanted you to know where I stand."

He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my cheek—chaste but lingering, his hand resting lightly on my waist. "Goodnight, Olivia."

"Goodnight," I whisper as he turns and walks toward his bedroom.

Alone in the hallway, I press my fingers to the spot where his lips touched my skin, confusion and unwanted desire warring within me. This is a complication I didn't anticipate—Ethan developing genuine feelings for me, and worse, me responding to them.

In my suite, I try to refocus on tomorrow's board vote, on the surveillance of Diana and Cassandra, on the revenge plan I've spent five years crafting. But my mind keeps returning to Ethan's words, to the possibility of making our marriage "more real."

What would that mean for my plans? For Leo? For my heart, which I've kept carefully guarded since the night I lost everything?

My phone buzzes with a text, mercifully pulling me from these dangerous thoughts. It's from my investigator: "Found something. Diana Morgan made large wire transfer to offshore account today. Same account received funds from Maxwell Pierce yesterday. Something big happening."

This is it—the counter-move I've been anticipating. They're planning something to block tomorrow's vote, something that requires significant funding.

I need to be prepared. Whatever they throw at me tomorrow, I can't let it derail the acquisition. It's the first step in my larger plan—gaining control of part of Morgan Group, establishing a foothold that will eventually allow me to reclaim everything that was stolen from me.

As I review contingency plans and financial projections late into the night, I push thoughts of Ethan to the back of my mind. The revenge I've worked toward for five years must take priority over these unexpected feelings.

Yet as I finally drift toward sleep in the early hours of the morning, it's not the board vote or Diana's schemes that fill my dreams, but Ethan's blue eyes and the gentle press of his lips against my cheek.

A dangerous distraction indeed.