"Daddy, are we there yet?" Leo's voice pipes up from the back seat for what must be the tenth time in the past hour.

"Almost, buddy," Ethan replies with remarkable patience. "Just a few more minutes."


I glance over at him, impressed by his calm demeanor despite Leo's endless questions during our two-hour drive from Manhattan. Parenthood reveals aspects of people you'd never see in a boardroom or social setting—like Ethan's seemingly infinite patience with our son's excitement.

"You said that ten minutes ago," Leo points out with the impeccable time awareness only children possess when they're eager to arrive somewhere.

"Well, this time I really mean it," Ethan says with a wink in my direction. "Look, you can see the ocean now."


Leo presses his face against the window, his eyes widening as the sprawling blue expanse comes into view. "Wow! It's so big!"

The Hamptons estate appears moments later—a magnificent property set on several acres of manicured grounds with the Atlantic Ocean as its backdrop. The main house is an elegant Shingle Style mansion that manages to be both imposing and welcoming, with wide porches and multiple gables creating a silhouette against the clear blue sky.


"Welcome to Windward," Ethan says as we pull through wrought iron gates that open automatically at our approach. "The Knight family summer home for three generations."

"It's beautiful," I say honestly, taking in the pristine grounds and the classic architecture. This place speaks of old money and tradition—a stark contrast to the ultra-modern penthouse in Manhattan.

As soon as the car stops in the circular driveway, Leo is struggling with his seatbelt, eager to explore. "Can I see the beach? Please, please, please?"

"First we need to get settled," I remind him, helping him with the stubborn buckle. "Then we can explore."

The front door opens before we reach it, revealing an older man in casual but impeccable attire. "Mr. Knight, welcome back," he greets Ethan warmly. "It's been too long."

"Thank you, Howard," Ethan replies, shaking the man's hand. "May I introduce my wife, Olivia, and our son, Leo."

"Mrs. Knight, Master Leo," Howard nods respectfully. "A pleasure to welcome you to Windward. Mrs. Knight senior arrived an hour ago and is on the back terrace."

Vivienne is already here—a detail Ethan conveniently failed to mention when he proposed this "family weekend" yesterday. I shoot him a questioning look, which he answers with an innocent shrug that doesn't fool me for a second.

"Grandma Vivienne is here?" Leo asks excitedly, already racing past Howard into the house. "Where's the back terrace?"

"Leo, don't run—" I begin, but he's already disappeared into the house.

"I'll show the young master the way," Howard offers with the hint of a smile, following Leo at a more dignified pace.

Left alone in the foyer with Ethan, I raise an eyebrow. "You didn't mention your mother would be joining us."

"She invited herself when she heard we were coming," Ethan explains, looking genuinely apologetic. "I couldn't exactly say no—it is technically her house too."

"A detail you also failed to mention," I observe, taking in the elegant surroundings—antique furniture, oil paintings of seascapes, fresh flowers in crystal vases. "You made it sound like this was your private retreat."

"The Hamptons house has always been a family property," Ethan admits. "Though my parents rarely use it these days—they prefer their place in Palm Beach. I thought it would be good for Leo to experience the beach, and..." he hesitates, "I wanted to share this place with you. I have good memories here."

The simple admission disarms me. This isn't just a luxury vacation home to Ethan—it's a place of personal significance that he wants to share with Leo and me. Another step in building our family narrative, whether real or for appearance's sake.

"Well, we shouldn't keep your mother waiting," I say, softening slightly. "And I should rescue Leo before he talks her ear off about dinosaurs."

Ethan laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "She'll love it. Mother always wanted grandchildren—she'd given up hope I'd ever provide them."

We find Vivienne and Leo on the back terrace, a stunning space overlooking manicured gardens that lead down to a private beach. Leo is already mid-explanation about why Triceratops is superior to Stegosaurus, while Vivienne listens with what appears to be genuine interest, a glass of white wine in hand.

"Ah, there you are," she greets us, rising to kiss Ethan's cheek and then, to my surprise, mine as well. "I was just getting a paleontology lesson from my brilliant grandson."

"I hope he's not overwhelming you," I say, noting the sparkle in Leo's eyes that indicates he's in full dinosaur enthusiasm mode.

"Not at all," Vivienne assures me. "It's refreshing to hear someone so passionate about something. Most of my social circle can only muster that level of excitement about stock prices or real estate values."

The observation is surprisingly self-aware coming from a woman who epitomizes old money sophistication. Perhaps there's more depth to Vivienne Knight than I initially gave her credit for.

"Leo, why don't you and I go check out the beach while your mother gets settled?" Ethan suggests. "We might find some interesting shells."

"Can we swim?" Leo asks hopefully.

"Not today, buddy. The water's still too cold. But we can wade a little if you want."

This compromise satisfies Leo, who races back into the house to change into more appropriate beach attire, Ethan following with an indulgent smile.

Left alone with Vivienne, I brace myself for polite but probing questions about my background—the standard mother-in-law interrogation I've been expecting since our marriage.

"Wine?" she offers instead, gesturing to the chilled bottle in an ice bucket.

"Please," I accept, taking the seat across from her.

As she pours, Vivienne studies me with those perceptive eyes so like her son's. "You seem surprised I'm here," she observes.

"Ethan didn't mention you'd be joining us," I admit, seeing no point in pretense.

"Ah," she nods, handing me the glass. "That's my son—always trying to manage situations without full disclosure. A trait he gets from his father, I'm afraid."

The comment about Jonathan Knight carries a hint of old frustration. "You and your husband have different approaches to... disclosure?" I probe gently.

Vivienne's smile turns wry. "Jonathan believes in strategic information sharing—revealing only what serves his immediate purpose. It's made him successful in business but less so in personal relationships." She takes a sip of wine. "Including his relationship with Ethan."

This confirms my observations about the tension between father and son—a dynamic I've noted but haven't fully understood.

"They seem... distant," I venture.

"That's a diplomatic way of putting it," Vivienne agrees. "They've been at odds since Ethan took over as CEO five years ago. Jonathan expected his son to be a figurehead while he continued pulling the strings from retirement. Ethan had other ideas."

"And implemented them successfully," I note, having researched Knight Industries' impressive growth under Ethan's leadership.

"Very successfully," Vivienne confirms with unmistakable pride. "Which only made Jonathan more resentful. He can't argue with the results, but he hates that Ethan achieved them by dismantling many of his pet projects and legacy systems."

This insight into the Knight family dynamics is valuable—both for my understanding of Ethan and potentially for my larger plans. Though increasingly, I find myself more interested in the former than the latter.

"And where do you stand in this conflict?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Vivienne considers the question, swirling her wine thoughtfully. "I support my son," she says finally. "Even when I don't fully understand or agree with his decisions." Her gaze meets mine directly. "Like his sudden marriage to a woman none of us had met before."

And there it is—the probe I was expecting, delivered with elegant directness.

"You must have had reservations," I acknowledge.

"Naturally," Vivienne admits. "Ethan has always been deliberate in his decision-making. This whirlwind marriage seemed completely out of character."

"And now?" I ask, meeting her gaze steadily.

"Now I see what he saw," she replies simply. "A remarkable woman who challenges him intellectually, cares deeply for their son, and handles herself with grace under pressure. Whatever your past may be, Olivia, your present actions speak well of you."

The assessment catches me off guard—both in its generosity and its subtle acknowledgment that she suspects there's more to my story than the official version. Before I can formulate a response, Leo comes bounding back onto the terrace in swim trunks and a t-shirt with a dinosaur print, Ethan behind him in casual clothes I've never seen him wear before—khaki shorts and a faded Harvard t-shirt that reveals more of his athletic physique than his usual business suits.

"We're going to the beach now!" Leo announces. "Daddy says there might be horseshoe crabs!"

"Have fun," I reply, grateful for the interruption. "Don't go in the water past your knees."

"I'll watch him," Ethan assures me, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder—a casual gesture of intimacy that feels increasingly natural between us.

As they head down the path toward the beach, Vivienne and I watch them go—father and son, dark heads bent together as Ethan points out something in the garden, Leo's excited response carrying back to us on the breeze.

"He's wonderful with Leo," Vivienne observes. "I wasn't sure how Ethan would adapt to fatherhood, given his own complicated relationship with Jonathan. But he's taken to it naturally."

"Yes," I agree softly. "He has."

"And how are you adapting?" Vivienne asks, her tone gentle but penetrating. "To this new life, this instant family?"

The question cuts closer to my core than she could possibly know. How am I adapting to this life that was supposed to be merely a means to an end but is increasingly becoming something I value for its own sake?

"It's been... an adjustment," I admit carefully. "But a good one, overall."

Vivienne nods, seeming to understand more than I've said. "Family is complicated," she observes. "Especially when it forms in unconventional ways."

Before I can respond, Howard appears to inform us that our luggage has been taken to our rooms and to ask about dinner arrangements. The conversation shifts to practical matters, and the moment for deeper revelations passes.

As I follow Howard upstairs to freshen up, I find myself in a spacious suite overlooking the ocean. The decor is classic Hamptons luxury—white linens, pale blue accents, weathered wood furniture that speaks of casual elegance. A door connects to a smaller room that has been prepared for Leo, complete with a basket of beach toys and children's books thoughtfully placed on a window seat.

Another door leads to what is clearly Ethan's personal space—a bedroom that feels lived-in despite its perfect order. Framed sailing certificates hang on one wall, photographs of younger Ethan with friends on another. A bookshelf holds an eclectic collection—business texts alongside philosophy, classic literature, and surprisingly, science fiction. This is a glimpse of Ethan Knight beyond the billionaire CEO persona—the private man few people get to see.

I'm examining a photograph of teenage Ethan on a sailboat when I hear the suite door open.

"Finding anything interesting?" Ethan asks, leaning against the doorframe with an amused expression.

"Just getting to know my husband better," I reply, replacing the photo. "You were quite the sailor."

"Still am, when I find the time," he says, entering the room. "Which isn't often these days. Where's Leo?"

"I thought he was with you," I reply, immediately concerned.

"He's with Mother," Ethan assures me quickly. "She's showing him the shell collection in the library. Apparently, some of them are 'almost as old as dinosaurs,' which earned her instant credibility."

I relax, smiling at Leo's predictable fascination with anything ancient. "Your mother is very good with him."

"She's always wanted grandchildren," Ethan says, moving to stand beside me at the bookshelf. "I think she'd given up hope."

"Because you were too busy building an empire?" I suggest lightly.

"Because I never met anyone I could imagine building a family with," he corrects, his gaze steady on mine. "Until now."

The simple statement hangs between us, loaded with implications neither of us is quite ready to address directly. Our marriage may have begun as a contract, but something undeniable is growing between us—something that complicates my revenge plans in ways I never anticipated.

"Ethan," I begin, not entirely sure what I'm going to say.

"You don't have to respond to that," he interrupts gently. "I just wanted you to know where I stand. The rest is up to you, in your own time."

His consideration—his willingness to give me space while making his own feelings clear—touches me deeply. This is so far from the cold business arrangement we initially agreed to, yet it feels more right than I care to admit.

"Thank you," I say simply. "For understanding that this is... complicated for me."

"Complicated is fine," Ethan replies with a small smile. "As long as we're figuring it out together."

Before I can respond, Leo's voice echoes down the hallway, calling for both of us to come see the "super old shells" Grandma Vivienne has shown him. The moment breaks, but something has shifted between us—an acknowledgment of deeper feelings, of possibilities beyond our original agreement.

As we head downstairs together, Ethan's hand brushes mine—a small contact that sends warmth through me despite its brevity. These moments are becoming more frequent, more meaningful, and increasingly harder to dismiss as irrelevant to our arrangement.

And that terrifies me almost as much as it thrills me.