Melinda’s POV
It had been a long day.
A good day, maybe. But long all the same.
The twins were in bed, finally. Elena had demanded three stories, two glasses of water, and at least one dramatic reenactment of how “Daddy James” caught her when she tripped at school that afternoon. Elijah, quieter, had only asked if James would still be here next week.
I told them yes.
And I meant it.
Now I sat at the edge of my bed, running my fingers over the spine of a notebook I hadn’t touched in months. The one I used before everything fell apart. When I still believed in love and legacy and permanence.
I flipped it open.
Inside were old plans. Designs I’d dreamed of launching when Andrew and I were still building the firm. Concepts for community centers, modern-day sanctuaries for women and chi
