Page 76 of Based on You

I'd been afraid since long before Elena died. I'd built an isolated life around not needing things, around not expecting fragile things to stay, because things did not stay. Elena had died. The company she'd built with me was still running, the closest thing I had to proof that something lasts, and even that company wasn't mine alone.

I'd held Lara at a safe distance and called it honesty. I'd sat across from Violet for two full years and said nothing. I'd kissed her and then deflected every vulnerable conversation that might have made the relationship real. And the second she'd finally given me a reason to leave, I'd taken it in both hands.

I wanted to unlearn it. I didn't know if that was even possible for me anymore. But I knew I wasn't interested in being the version of me that lay frozen in bed and just let it be over.

I got up, took a quick shower, and dressed in a sharp suit.

I marched down the hall and knocked on Olivia's bedroom door.

The night before, I'd come home late from the office, knocked on her closed door, and told her to dress properly tomorrow. She was coming with me to work. She hadn't even asked why. She'd just looked at me a long moment and said okay.

She opened the door now in a black dress, her dark hair loose and her bag slung over her shoulder. She looked at me. I looked back at her.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Yes."

We left the house.

Manuel was already waiting at the curb. We got into the town car and drove the whole way to Beckett Media without talking. Olivia looked out her window, and I looked out mine, and the heavy silence between us was contemplative, and neither of us needed to fill it.

When we got to the building, Alice from HR met me in the grand lobby. She'd been covering the assistant desk for the past several days, quietly handling the schedule and the calls without complaint, without asking why the previous arrangement had so abruptly ended. She told me the conference room was ready and the attendees were already inside waiting. All I needed to do was walk in.

I nodded and said okay.

I looked at Olivia. She looked back at me.

We rode the private elevator up.

The meeting was in the small, glass-walled conference room on the forty-seventh floor. When I pushed the heavy door open, I saw Violet at once.

She was already seated at the polished table, wearing slate slacks and an oatmeal blouse, her dark hair pulled into a severe knot at the back of her neck. The professional woman who'd sat outside my office door for two full years. I looked at her now. She looked back at me and said nothing.

Olivia took a seat in the far corner of the room.

I sat down at the head of the table.

Devika was already there, along with two senior members of the publishing team, and Marisol sat at the far end. One of the corporate lawyers had his papers laid open. They all looked at me, expectant.

"Thank you all for coming today," I addressed the room. I looked at Violet. "Before we proceed. Do you want to tell them yourself?"

She looked at me a long, tense moment. Then she looked around the room.

"I'm V.M. Ashby," she said.

The room went dead still.

"I've been V.M. Ashby for years. I kept it private because I wasn't ready for it to be otherwise." She held her chin level. "I'm here today to sign the publishing contract with Beckett Publishing. Under my real name."

Devika's mouth fell open, then closed. One of the senior publishing team members sat back in his chair. Marisol looked at the table, then the ceiling, then back at me in disbelief.

The corporate lawyer slid the thick contract forward across the wood.

Violet read it. Every page, front to back, unhurried, her left hand resting flat beside the dense text as she moved through it. When she finished, she picked up the silver pen and signed.

Violet Paige.

The second she set the pen down, the room erupted. Devika said something about the platform numbers. One of the publishing team members exclaimed they'd been trying to find her for months. Marisol started talking about accelerating the launch timeline.