Page 84 of The Broken Keys

It’s early, though. She’s probably still asleep after the emotional beating I put her through yesterday. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s exhausted from carrying the weight of confusion and pain I created.

I’m going to tell her about Julian Everhart. It’s the name I was born with before I became Jaxon Crowne. She needs to know about the enemies who’ve been hunting me for decades.

I want her to know the reason I gave her the beach house. I need her to understand my heart has belonged to her since the moment she challenged me on our first date.

She deserves the truth. Not my version of protection that must seem like I’m keeping her at arm’s length. How can it not appear that way? It’s how I’ve constructed our relationship.

My rigid walls have to feel like rejection. Today she’ll get honesty and the freedom to decide if loving me is worth the danger that comes with it.

My phone buzzes. It’s a text from a blocked number, confirming the surveillance team is positioned around her house. This message is from Axel.

I’m not apologizing for putting security on her. If she chooses me, she needs to understand this is what safety lookslike in my world. If she doesn’t choose me, at least I’ll know she’s protected from threats she doesn’t even know exist.

The drive to my office takes twenty minutes through empty morning streets. Los Angeles at this hour is suspended between night and day, quiet and full of possibility.

I used to love this time of morning for its solitude and clarity. Now I just want to get through the day fast enough to see her as soon as I can.

Natalie and Quinn are already in my office when I arrive at seven-thirty. Their laptops are open and coffee cups are in their hands. Steam rises from the hot liquid in the mugs.

I gesture to their drinks. “Careful with those. Otherwise, it’s going to burn your tongue.”

Quinn jumps in first. “Jaxon, we’re capable of knowing how hot our drinks are.”

“Of course you are.” My cheeks heat. “I was just making conversation.”

I set up for our review. Quinn queues the quarterly projections, numbers that decide who rises and who folds.

Expansion blueprints sprawl across three continents, each awaiting my signature to shift markets. Three merger proposals sit waiting, billions disguised as PDFs.

It’s a typical morning in the empire I built, measured in decimals and ruled by restraint. Every decision is a calculated detonation. Every win is another reason to fight for what I’ve already lost.

The problem is my mind refuses to cooperate today. My thoughts keep drifting to Livianna waking up, probably wondering if I really meant what I said about her future being with Cash.

“Jaxon?” Quinn’s voice breaks through my distraction. “Did you catch the question?”

“No. I’m sorry, please repeat it.”

She exchanges a glance with Natalie that carries obvious concern. “I asked about the Singapore acquisition timeline.Do we move forward now or wait for the regulatory review to come back?”

“Move forward. We’ve delayed long enough.” The words come out edged with frustration that has nothing to do with Singapore. “I’m tired of waiting for perfect conditions that’ll never come.”

Natalie’s eyebrow arches, but she doesn’t comment on the obvious subtext bleeding through my answer. We work through the agenda with the efficiency I’ve built my reputation on.

Market analyses project volatility next quarter across several continents. Investment portfolios need rebalancing. Risk assessments lay out scenarios where ventures either multiply our capital exponentially or crater spectacularly.

The rhythm is familiar and usually satisfying—power, money, and control measured in data points and strategic decisions. Today is different. I just want to be done.

My phone lights up on the table between us. I never look at my phone during meetings. Ever.

It’s a rule I’ve maintained for over a decade because it keeps business sacred and sets boundaries everyone respects. But this time, my hand moves before I can stop it.

Quinn and Natalie both freeze mid-sentence. They’re staring at me like I’ve just announced I’m retiring and moving to a monastery. They know this means something significant because I’ve never broken this ritual before.

The screen shows a preview that makes my pulse spike.Mon Trésor.

I unlock my phone and read the full message while my pulse races through my veins.

Mon Trésor:I’m sure you got my message and I understand why you haven’t responded. Can we meet? I need to talk to you. Just us. I need to explain why I never told you about Callum. I just want you to understand how I feel about you.